Tag Archives: r.a. lafferty

November 16, 1968 We contain multitudes (November 1968 Galactoscope)

by Robin Rose Graves

A school for young wizards: What could possibly go wrong!

I wanted to like last year's City of Illusions, but the book fell flat. However, I saw the potential in Ursula K. Le Guin as a writer. Her ideas in the book were good, it was the execution that was lacking, so with her latest book out, A Wizard of Earthsea,I figured I’d give her another try.

A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula Le Guin

Ged is an ambitious young wizard with a hunger for knowledge and power. The book follows his journey from childhood into adulthood, first starting when he attends a school for wizards. There he learns the basics of magic, makes friends and a rival. He also unleashes a dark being that wants him dead, but thanks to magic protection around the school, he is safe for the time being.

It isn’t until Ged graduates and becomes a practicing wizard for various villages that he really learns the hard lessons of magic. Now outside the protection of school, he is pursued by the dark being, eventually forced to turn and fight it, putting his skills to the ultimate test.

Fantasy as a genre doesn’t excite me as an adult, as it is often too whimsical and too escapist, too detached from our own world. A Wizard of Earthsea managed a careful balance, with an attention to the laws of magic and how it is able to be used. Wizards can only use so much magic at a time, and overexerting oneself or attempting a spell higher than one’s skill has physical consequences, causing wounds to appear on the body. Throughout the book, we see Ged test these limits, only to end up in lengthy recovery each time. Eventually, he does go too far and ends up permanently scarring himself.

I liked the concept of true names: learning the true name of a creature, plant, object or place is the key to all spells in this world. Even people have true names that they keep secret, instead using an alias in day to day life. While Ged is the main character’s true name, and the narrative refers to him as such, in dialogue he is called “Sparrowhawk” by other characters. I loved the intimate moments of friendship when true names were exchanged, showing a great amount of trust between characters.

Ged makes a compelling main character, with his distinctive flaw being his own hubris. Time and again, he tries magic that is way above his level only to be hurt. He attempts to raise the dead, despite knowing that it can’t be done, and suffers the consequences. It's because of his hubris that a dark creature is brought into the world who specifically hunts him, creating the main conflict of the book. But we’re shown that he has other values. He isn’t greedy. When he fights the dragon, his only motivation is duty to the town he serves. When the dragon offers him some of his treasure as a reward, he declines. Most of the time when Ged overexerts his magic, it isn’t in pursuit of fame. Ged truly wants to help people, even when it’s past his capabilities.


You know it's a good book when there's a map

With this book, I finally saw what I knew Le Guin was capable of as a writer. She's always created compelling unique worlds readers want to immerse themselves in, but now her writing can back up her ideas. Maybe because this is her first foray into juvenile fiction or perhaps she is simply growing as a writer.

I look forward to what she writes next.

Four stars.



by Victoria Silverwolf

Tomorrow and Yesterday

The latest Ace Double (H-95, two quarters and a dime at your local drug store paperback rack) contains one novel looking forward in time, and one collection glancing backwards at the author's recent career.

The Man Who Saw Tomorrow, by Jeff Sutton


Cover art by Jack Gaughan.

We begin with a brilliant mathematician from California sneaking around through a remote area of Wisconsin, ready to kill a man. We cut away from this scene to find a government agent from Washington, D.C., in Los Angeles, preparing to assassinate the richest man in the world.

Why all this homicidal intent?

Flashbacks tell us what's going on. John Androki is a fellow who shows up out of nowhere. He convinces a rich guy that he can predict exactly how stocks will move up or down in the future. The millionaire sets him up with some cash in exchange for the information. Androki goes on to not only be the wealthiest person on Earth (yep, he's the intended target of the government assassin) but to wield immense political power all over the world.

Our protagonist is Bertram Kane, a brilliant mathematician (yep, he's the guy stalking a man in Wisconsin) who is working on a theory of multiple dimensions. He's a widower who's having an on-again off-again affair with Anita Weber, an art professor. His buddy is Gordon Maxon, a professor of psychology.

Maxon is convinced that Androki can perceive the future (hence the novel's title.) He calls him a downthrough, a word that's new to me. Kane isn't convinced, but when Weber dumps him for the incredibly rich and powerful Androki, he becomes suspicious.

Things get scarier when other mathematicians working on multiple dimensions are murdered. Coincidence, or is Androki arranging for their deaths? And is Kane next on the list?

You may figure out the main plot gimmick, which explains why Kane is out to kill a completely innocent man. (The government assassin's motive is less mysterious. Androki is changing America's relations with other nations in ways the United States government doesn't like.)

Basically a suspense novel with a science fiction gimmick, the plot creates a fair amount of tension, although parts of it are talky. There are quite a few murders along the way, and a pretty grim ending.

Three stars.

So Bright the Vision, by Clifford Simak


Cover art by Gray Morrow.

Four stories, dating from 1956 to 1960, by a noted author appear in this volume.

The Golden Bugs


Cover art by Ed Emshwiller.

First printed in the June 1960 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, this lighthearted yarn starts with a huge agate appearing in a guy's yard, along with the tiny critters mentioned in the title. Chaos ensues.

The Noble Editor gave it a lukewarm review when it first appeared, and that's fair. It's a pleasant enough bit of gentle comedy, but hardly profound.

Three stars.

Leg. Forst.


Cover art by Ed Emshwiller again.

The April 1958 issue of Infinity Science Fiction is the source of this oddly titled (and odd) story.

An elderly fellow collects stamps from alien worlds, piling them up in his rat's nest of a home. Some of the stamps are actually made up of living microorganisms. When mixed with broth made by an overly friendly neighbor, they jump into action and start organizing the guy's messy collection.

There's a strong resemblance to the previous story, which also had tiny creatures helping folks at first, but going a little too far. This one is a lot stranger than the other one, and a little more complex. (I haven't mentioned the role played by stuff that the old man receives from an alien pen pal, or what the weird title means.) Interesting for its eccentricity, if nothing else.

Three stars.

So Bright the Vision


Cover art by Edward Moritz.

The August 1956 issue of Fantastic Universe supplies the story that gives the collection its title.

At a future time when Earth is in contact with several alien worlds, the only thing of value humans can supply is fiction. Other beings don't make up things that aren't true, and they're fascinated by the concept.

The fiction is created via programmed machines, with a little human input. Writing by hand (or pencil, pen, or typewriter) is considered old-fashioned, and even vulgar.

The plot follows the misadventures of a so-called writer who has fallen on hard times. His machine is on its last legs, and he can't afford a new one. A fellow writer's secret leads to a sudden decision.

Much of the story consists of discussions of the importance of fiction. The automated fiction machines seem intended as a dark satire of uninspired hackwork. It's clearly a heartfelt work, and the author manages to convey his passion.

Four stars.

Galactic Chest


Cover art by Ed Emshwiller yet again.

This yarn comes from the pages of the September 1956 issue of Science Fiction Stories.

A newspaper reporter investigates some odd events. There's the sudden, seemingly merciful death of someone suffering from a terminal illness. A scientist's papers are rearranged, giving him the clue he needs to complete his work. The reporter suggests, in a joking article, that these and other happenings might be the work of brownies. He's not too far off the mark.

Once again we have small beings helping humans. This time their efforts are entirely benign, unlike the golden bugs (who ignored people completely, and only worked for their own goals) and the microorganisms from the alien stamp (who went a little too far in their effort to organize things.) This is a sweet, simple little story, benefiting from the author's own experience as a newspaperman.

Three stars.

The title story is definitely the highlight of the collection. As a whole, that bumps the book up to three and one-half stars.



by Gideon Marcus

Mission to Horatius, by Mack Reynolds

There's no question that Star Trek is a bona fide phenomenon. Now in its third season (and so far, quite a good season it is), it is a universe that has launched several dozen fan clubs, most with their own 'zines, many with Trek-fiction included. Professional tie-in merchandise is booming, too, from the AMT model kits of the ships in the show, to Stephen Whitfield's indispensable The Making of Star Trek, to Gold Key's dispensable comic book.

The latest release is the very first (that I'm aware of) professional original Trek story, Mission to Horatius by none other than SF veteran Mack Reynolds. That a familiar name should be tapped to write Trek tales is not a surprise. Episodes of the show have been written by SFnal talents Norman Spinrad, Ted Sturgeon, Robert Bloch, Harlan Ellison, Jerome Bixby; and James Blish has written two collections of episode novelizations (well, noveletizations).

So how does Reynolds' effort rate? First, let's look at the story:

The Enterprise has been out on patrol so long that ship's stores are low and the crew is beginning to suffer from "cafard". This malady is a kind of isolation sickness that can lead to mass insanity. Before the ship can return to starbase, however, it receives a distress call from the Horatius system just beyond the Federation.

There are three Class M planets in the system, all inhabited by pioneers who don't want to be Federated. They are the primitive society of Neolithia, which operates in bands and clans; the theological autocracy of Mythria, controlled by a happy drug called "Anodyne" (a la "Return of the Archons"); and the Prussian military state of Bavarya. This world is the most dangerous, as they have designs on conquering the Federation, and they are building an army of clones ("Dopplegangers") toward that end.

Uncertain as to from which planet the distress signal originated, Kirk leads a landing party composed of his senior officers to each planet in turn. Meanwhile, the strings on Uhura's guitar break one by one, and Sulu's pet rat gets loose. Cafard causes 40 crew members to be put in stasis. It's not a happy trip. But in the end, it's a successful one when Kirk finds the that Anna, the daughter of "Nummer Ein" on Bavarya, summoned the Enterprise to thwart her father's nefarious scheme,

Well. There's quite a lot wrong with this book. Reynolds makes serving on the Enterprise feel like the worst duty in the galaxy. Maybe this is realistic, but from what we've seen, the crew isn't this unhappy. As for "cafard", if our nuclear submarine crews don't suffer from such issues, I can't imagine a crack Starfleet crew would.

Reynolds' characterizations are only cursorily accurate. Indeed, Mission feels more like a lesser story in his Analog-published United Planets series of stories, featuring a decentralized set of worlds with every kind of government imaginable. There's an undertone of smugness as Kirk destroys one society after another—first by beaming down an anodyne-antidote into the Mythran water supply (if Scotty can manufacture ten pounds of the stuff in ten minutes, why can't he synthesize new strings for Uhura?), and then by destroying all five million dopplegangers on Bavarya…who may well have been sentient beings.

And finally, McCoy staves off cafard by making the crew believe that Sulu's rat has Bubonic Plague, and that it must be killed to save the ship. The rat does not have a happy ending.

Most eyeroll inducing passage: "Anna, womanlike, had been inspecting Janice Rand's neat uniform. Now she responded to the bows of the men from the Enterprise. She was perhaps in her mid-twenties, blond, and, save for a slight plumpness, attractive."

(emphasis added)

Even accepting that the target audience is on the younger side (given that the publisher is Whitman), this does not really excuse all the problems with Mission to Horatius. Moreover, the stirring introduction seems to have been written for an entirely different story!


There are pictures by Sparky Moore. They are adequate, but the characters don't look too much like our heroes.

Two stars.



by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

In the run up to Christmas, I received a special treat through my letterbox: a second Orbit anthology for 1968. Will it do better than #3?

Orbit 4

Orbit 4 Cover
Cover by Paul Lehr

Windsong by Kate Wilhelm
Starting with the series’ most regular contributor, Wilhelm’s story concerns Dan Thornton, an overworked executive. He is trying to solve the problem of an armored computer that should be able to act as a policeman. However, it cannot cope with the stress of unexpected situations. To get solutions he has been working with the psychologist Dr. Feldman to see if his dreams yield any ideas but, instead, he keeps dreaming about Paula. She was a free-spirited “windsong” from his teenage years, a person who could instantly analyse patterns to understand the world in ways others could not.

I have been noticing a pattern emerging with Wilhelm’s writing. She wants to experiment with form and content but rarely manages to deliver a strong balance between the two. In this case it is the style that works well, using the dream sessions in a way that would please the New Wave, but the actual plot leaves something to be desired, not really travelling anywhere fast and engaging in some obvious cliches.

Evens out at Three Stars

Probable Cause by Charles L. Harness
Harness recently returned from his parental leave and is back to writing, getting an even warmer reception this time around. Using his legal background, he brings us the discussion of a supreme court case, one where the constitutionality of a conviction depends on an interesting question. If a search warrant is granted based on a psychic reading, does this violate the fourth and\or fifth amendments?

Whilst some of the arguments here do not make much sense to me, I am neither a lawyer nor an American. As such, I am happy to bow to Harness’ knowledge of constitutional jurisprudence. What I question is the length of it all. At over 60 pages, this is the second longest story to yet grace the pages of Orbit. But it is just some justices sitting in a room discussing a piece of legal theory. This might be worth a vignette, but I needed more to justify a novella.

Two Stars

Shattered Like a Glass Goblin by Harlan Ellison
Rudy has finally gotten out of the army on medical, only to find his fiancée Kris in a marijuana-drenched squat in downtown LA. Is he just not “with it” anymore? Or is something more sinister going on?

If this was from an older writer, I would assume it was a crass attempt to be relevant. With Ellison I am willing to assume he is in earnest in writing a hippy horror story. It is not entirely clear if what we see really happened or if it just a massive drug trip, but that actually makes it work better for me.

Four Stars

This Corruptible by Jacob Transue
This is an author of which no information is given, nor one I've heard of before. Is it perhaps a pseudonym?

Thirty-five years ago, scientists Paul and Andrew departed on bad terms. Whilst the former went into seclusion, the latter became vastly wealthy. Andrew now seeks out Paul after learning of his new discovery, the ability to renew a person’s life.

This reads like a middling story from 15 years ago. Whilst some horrifying imagery raises it up, it is pulled back down by lechery.

Two Stars

Animal by Carol Emshwiller
A strange animal is kept in the city by its keepers. What could it be?

This is a stylistic piece that will depend on your tolerance for this kind of prose:

It was said, on the second day, that he did not look too unhappy. A keeper of particular sensitivity brought him both a grilled cheese sandwich and a hamburger so it might be seen what his preferences were, but still he ate nothing.

This reader was unhappy, feeling nothing.

One Star

One at a Time by R. A. Lafferty
In Barnaby’s Barn, McSkee tells tall tales. But what if they are true?

I feel about Lafferty’s writing the way Superman does about Kryptonite. As such, I struggle with him at the best of times. This one I found it impossible to read. I don’t like bar-room frames or tall tales, I was confused by the style and was generally perplexed throughout.

A subjective One Star

Passengers by Robert Silverberg
In an interesting take on the Puppet Masters concept, Earth has encountered strange creatures called passengers. They can “ride” anyone, at any time, with no way to detect or stop them. Once a Passenger leaves a person, the memory goes. Our narrator wakes up to find he slept with a woman whilst he was ridden. However, upon exercising in Central Park he believes he has found her, even though she doesn’t remember him.

Anyone who has read Silverberg of late knows of his strange recurring writings about young women, so I will not belabour the point here. Your rating will probably result from how you balance the concept against this tendency. I come down in the middle.

Three Stars

Grimm's Story by Vernor Vinge
The planet Tu is a world that contains almost no metals. Whilst some technologies, such as pharmaceuticals, hydrofoils and optics, have been able to develop, others, such as heavier than air flight, have not.

It is on this world that Astronomy student Svir Hedrigs is approached by Tatja Grimm, the science editor of Fantasie magazine. She has a dangerous mission for Hedrigs, to stop the destruction of the last complete collection of Fantasie.

In less skilled hands this could easily have been contrived and fannish. Instead, Vinge spins a fascinating intricate plot and fully imagined world, touching on a number of interesting themes with complicated characters. It stumbles a little at the very end, stopping it from gaining a full five stars, but still very good.

A high four stars

A Few Last Words by James Sallis
Hoover is beset by bad dreams. He decides to head to Doug’s coffee shop where we learn from them why the cities are now so empty.

Well written and atmospheric, appealing to this sufferer of parasomnia.

Four Stars

Continuing a steady Orbit
Once again, Orbit contains some of the best and worst of SF for me. This issue more than most, though, is going to be a subjective one. So much is based on style that it cannot help but appeal to personal taste. I know others have considered Animal among the best and Grimm’s Story among the weakest. Whatever your tastes, I think there will be something in here for you to chew on.


The Hole in the Zero by M. K. Joseph

The Hole in the Zero Cover
Cover by Terry James

This completely passed me by on first release but an ad for it from the Science Fiction Book Club in last month’s New Worlds was enough to convince me to get it. But was it worth me trialing a membership from them?

The so-called “end of the universe” is an area where physical laws as we know them break down. Sometimes this abstract nothingness recedes, sometimes it expands and swallows galaxies, leaving impossible creations in its wake. The Warden Corps have been set up at its current edge to monitor and explore the strange phenomena.

Among those who come to the current planetoid of the Warden Corps is Helena Kraag. Whilst the daughter of one of the richest men in the galaxy, she has become withdrawn from people since the loss of her mother. At first, she attempts to look straight into the nothingness and loses her sense of identity. In spite of this she still travels with the rest of the crew into this impossibility.

Unfortunately, their Heisenberg shields fail as they enter. As you can probably guess, things start to get strange.

Now, you might expect this to just then be a kind of surreal trip, a la Alice in Wonderland or Phantom Tollbooth. However, what Joseph produces is a kind of fractured character exploration. As we move through these different bizarre situations we learn more about each of the members of the crew and gain understanding of what motivates them.

There are so many delicious details. Initially this looks like it is going to be some kind of 19th Century comedy of manners, but we soon learn this has been carefully set up. Rather it is a kind of conditioning, one to allow the fliers to maintain a solid form of identity. Even when it feels like I am reading the lyrics to I Am The Walrus, there is clear intent and structure behind it.

Joseph is also a master of language and you feel yourself getting knowledge and beauty within the surreality. For example:

Everything and nothing had both happened and not happened; time was as broad as it was long; space was neither here nor there; the loop of eternity threaded itself through the eye of zero.

This kind of sentence could have been gibberish. But the way he phrases it and following the scenarios we have gone through, I absolutely understand what he is getting at.

I could go through all the characters and scenarios to explore the meaning behind it, but I think it is better to take the journey yourself. As Helena says, it is “like falling through the hole in the zero.” It may not be something that is at once fathomable but it is a new experience worth having.

Although primarily known as a poet, he clearly understands science fiction well and has an affinity for it (see, for example, the poem "Mars Ascending"). Here is hoping for more such forays.

Four Stars



by Tonya R. Moore

Moondust by Thomas Burnett Swann

Moondust by Thomas Burnett Swann takes place in and around the ancient city of Jericho. Swann’s Jericho is a poverty-ridden city ruled by the Egyptians, its denizens apprehensive about the steady approach of the Wanderers, a flood of former slaves absconding from Egypt. 

Bard ekes out a meager existence in this city with his mother and beautiful younger brother Ram. Ram is stolen one night and replaced by an unbecoming changeling. Bard accepts the fat, ugly Rahab and comes to think of her as a sister until years later when an elusive, feline creature known as a fennec arrives. Rahab then magically transforms into a beautiful woman with wings and disappears one night.

Determined to rescue Rahab, Bard enlists the aid of his friend, Zeb. Together they track Rahab down to the underground city, Honey Heart, where the fennecs rule as gods and Rahab’s kind, the People of the Sea along with beautiful human males–including the long lost Ram– are docile slaves to the fennecs. Bard and Zub must now find a way to wrest Rahab from the insidious control of the fennecs and make it out of Honey Heart alive.

Moondust is a highly imaginative and reasonably interesting story but I did not—could not bring myself to enjoy it. At first, I couldn’t quite put my finger on what bothered me about this novel. Then it finally occurred to me. This book has no soul, no humanity. Moondust feels like a book written from the clinical lens of a white Westerner who thinks he’s better than the people he’s writing about.

Apparently, people living in poverty must always be dirty and have very little regard for personal hygiene. If humans own slaves, those slaves must be black. What else could they possibly be? Beautiful women are nothing but whores. Fat people are ugly, and the Israelites had very big, very ugly feet. 

I believe these small details were meant to add color to the story’s world, but obviously originate from a place of thinly veiled disdain.

The main character, Bard, is not one with whom I could sympathize. His little brother is stolen—kidnapped in the dead of night. Even though Bard bemoans the loss, not once does it occur to the self-absorbed nincompoop to go looking for his five-year-old sibling. Instead, he magnanimously accepts the supposedly fat, ugly changeling named Rahab left in his brother’s place as a sister and simply carries on with his life as if that makes any sense.

Years later, when Rahab literally sheds her “ugly” skin and becomes a beautiful creature of a woman, she then becomes a harlot. What else could she possibly become?

When Rahab disappears, summoned back to the underground city of Honey Heart by the fennec, Chackal, Bard immediately enlists the aid of his friend, Zeb and races off in search of his beloved sister. This raises the question of why he was so desperate to save the sibling unrelated by blood–who left voluntarily–but had possessed no inclination to go off in search of his biological brother, Ram. 

Once Bard and Zeb descend into Honey Heart, the story loses all coherence for me. The contrived mish-mash of magic, ancient Eastern culture, and biblical myth falls short of a finely woven tale. Moondust merely rankled.

If I’ve learned anything from Swann it’s that you can learn the history and possess infinite academic knowledge of a culture but your words aren’t going to touch anyone if you can’t actually feel the soul—the humanity of the people.

Three Stars



by Jason Sacks

One Before Bedtime by Richard Linkroum

What an odd novel. One Before Bedtime is part mad scientist novel, part social satire, part speculative fiction, and part self-centered character rationalization.

I'm not sure this is a good book, per se, but is certainly odd.

See, in a way, this book is all about the social satire. It's about Jeff Baxter, a kid just home from Vietnam, where he's seen some stuff, man, and who has gone back to work at his a pharmacy in his small midwestern town. Jeff just has one minor problem: his skin is in rough shape and he needs for it to clear up so his girlfriend can be happy. Thankfully (perhaps), the pharmacist turns out to be a tinkerer. Cortland Pedigrew has his own set of chemicals and other tools in the basement of the pharmacy. Pedigrew invents a pill which can clear Jeff's skin.

There's just one problem. The pill somehow turns Jeff's skin from White to Black.

And there the troubles begin.

Because Jeff's girlfriend, Peggy, is a bit of a militant and freedom fighter. She walks around everywhere barefoot and speaks at rallies for Black rights and sings folk songs and reminds one of someone like Joan Baez in her steadfast commitment to the hottest social issues of the day. (She probably wouldn't have cared about Jeff's skin, either, but the poor guy was too self-deluded to notice.)

As the story goes on, Jeff, Peggy and several other characters find themselves mixed up in campus protests, urban riots, and unreasonable hatred. Along the way they're forced to see their own prejudices – often reflexive and instinctive – and, well, pretty much stay the same people they were before the events in this book start.

On top of all the oddball problems I've just described, this 168-page quickie is written from different perspectives. We get no fewer than four different approaches to this character's story, each exceeding the previous one in its banality and strange affect. I kept wondering, over and over, how dumb these characters are, how stuck in their idiotic ways they are so they can't actually see the world differently than they did before their loved one was turned black?

Of course, that's also all part of author Linkroum's goal here, I'm sure. It's clear from his approach that he's interested in exploring the idea that racism is arbitrary and simple-minded, that mere skin color is not a diffentiator of the worth of a person, and that our present great national troubles are as absurd as his chracters all act here.

If only Mr. Linkroum had been more satirical, more biting in his humor. Instead the plot of One Before Bedtime all feels a bit undercooked, a bit bland and a bit too on-the-nose for it to really work for me.

I tried looking up Richard Linkroum in my collection of science fiction mags and found no other examples of his work. This is despite the fact that the book was published in hardcover by J.P. Lippincott, a reputable publisher. Finally I was tipped that there's a TV producer who goes by Dick Linkroum who might be our author here.  That makes sense because One Before Bedtime reads like a bad episode of the old Twilight Zone: a bit undercooked and way too preachy.

2 stars.





[October 6, 1968] Snail on the Slope? (November 1968 Amazing)


by John Boston

Suspicions confirmed—this November Amazing names as Editor Barry N. Malzberg, who was listed last issue as Associate Editor.  Sol Cohen is now merely the Publisher.  Oddly, though, the editorial is by Harry Harrison, now listed as Associate Editor (though most likely gone).  Go figure, or just say it’s more Sol Cohen chaos.

Johnny Bruck is back as the cover artist; this one (from Perry Rhodan #109, published in 1963) looks even more cliched and perfunctory than his earlier covers, making me wonder if they are really getting worse, or if I am just getting more tired of them.


by Johnny Bruck

“New” is sprinkled across the cover wherever possible to distract from the fact that once again, reprints dominate.  Four new short stories take up 36 pages, just under 25% of the magazine. And the prize: “plus stories by: RAY BRADBURY (Winner of the Aviation Space Writers Association’s Top Award). . . .” Does Bradbury need that kind of boosting? 

One of the new stories, interestingly, is a collaboration between Harlan Ellison and Samuel R. Delany.  When Delany appeared with a novel excerpt in the issue before last, his name was misspelled about half the time; this issue, it’s misspelled “Delaney” everywhere—on the cover, on the contents page (twice), on the first page of the story, in the book review column.  Well, small mercy, it’s spelled right in the blurb for the story. 

There are worse production botches, discussed when I get to them.

Harrison’s editorial, Science Fiction and the Establishment, is superficial and banal: the Establishment doesn’t like SF, it’s a problem all over, but it’s starting to get better, someday it will be gone.  The book review column continues interestingly but incestuously, with James Blish as William Atheling reviewing Larry Niven, and Samuel R. Delany reviewing Blish.  Leon E. Stover contributes another in his “Science of Man” series, discussed below.

Despite all the above kvetching about the magazine’s presentation, the good news is that the new short stories are as interesting a batch as we’ve seen in Amazing for a while, and the reprints are all readable or better, unlike many of their predecessors. 

Power of the Nail, by Harlan Ellison and Samuel R. Delany

Ellison and Delany’s Power of the Nail reads like what Ellison was publishing in the SF magazines around 1957, polished up by a smoother writer.  Robert Zagaramendo and his wife Margret are Ecological Observers on the planet Saquetta, and boy howdy is Margret pissed: “You promised me better than this, somewhere.” Robert’s not too thrilled either, especially with Margret.  Bickering is constant.

Saquetta features the Saquettes, mole-like aliens who are not at all cute, but have the interesting trait of being reincarnated when they die naturally, which is most of the time.  But the vibrations of the “phase-antenna of the automatic ecology equipment” that the humans are burying in various locations draw the Saquettes away from their usual hideouts to places where they are vulnerable to attack by giant predatory birds, called molloks because that’s what the Saquettes scream when they’re being hunted.


by Dan Adkins

After further conflict with his wife, including a near-rape, Robert sets up “ecology equipment” near an especially large Saquette colony, complete with lurking molloks, and goes back later to find, as expected, hundreds of dead Saquettes.  He builds little round coffins for them and nails them together, then goes back and tells Margret that they’re going home—and shortly, suffers a terrible and fatal punishment that is not clearly explained, though one may surmise it is related to the operation of the "automatic ecology equipment."  (Compare David H. Keller's The Doorbell if you've ever read it.) In the moral universe of the story, it’s obviously because he decided to sacrifice hundreds of Saquettes in order to escape an emotionally intolerable situation.

It's a very vivid and readable story, which goes some way towards compensating for its ultimate obscurity.  Three stars.

The Monsters, by David R. Bunch

The formerly prolific David R. Bunch, who has not appeared in Amazing since Sol Cohen took over, is back with The Monsters.  It’s short as usual for Bunch, and on a familiar theme: the need to harden one’s small children against the brutalities of life by brutalizing them pre-emptively.  (See Bunch’s earlier story A Small Miracle of Fishhooks and Straight Pins, Fantastic June 1961, and thence to Judith Merril’s annual “year’s best” volume.) Here, the threat the children are to be prepared for is a bit trite, but the writing is brisk and economical.  Three stars.

Try Again, by Jack Wodhams

Jack Wodhams is new to me, though the Journeyer-in-Chief has not thought highly of his work in Analog.  His Try Again is surprisingly good.  Pyler, a psychiatrist, is having a session with the precocious five-year-old Tommy, who says he has lived before and remembers it.  But this isn’t quite the same life as before, since with adult memories he acts differently the second time around.  Tommy is much burdened by his knowledge of future events and the question whether he could do anything about them (it’s 1935, Mussolini has just invaded Ethiopia; and Tommy knows what comes later).  Shortly he is kidnapped to Germany.  An alternative history, even worse than the real one, is telegraphically unfolded.  Tommy, who has disappeared from the plot after his interrogation, reappears at the terrible end.  Four stars—maybe a bit crude, but powerful.


by Jeff Jones

The reading experience is undermined at the end by Amazing’s production values, or lack of them.  The story stops on page 29 in the midst of a sentence with no “continued on” notice, and the reader is left to rummage through the magazine to find the rest of the text on page 138.

This Grand Carcass, by R.A. Lafferty

R.A. Lafferty’s This Grand Carcass is, typically, told in high Tall Tale mode, and it is also clearly a moral tale, though the precise moral may be a bit obscure.  Mord comes to Juniper Tell offering to sell a device cheap that will allow Tell to “own the worlds.” So why is he selling it?  He’s dying. Tell bites and is the new owner of Gahn, for Generalized Agenda Harmonizer Nucleus, which soon enough is outdoing and dominating all the other “general purpose machines.” Shortly, it is a full partner with Tell (in Tell and Gahn—get it?). 

Before long, Tell, like Mord, is almost, er, gone, and Gahn (whose power inputs have been revealed as dummies) candidly admits: “I use you.  I use human fuel.  I establish symbiosis with you.  I suck you out.  I eat you up.” So Tell sells Gahn on to the next high-rolling sucker.  Moral, did I say?  Machines are the Devil?  Anything that makes humans’ work too easy is damnation?  Something along those lines, I’m sure.  This is not one of Lafferty’s best; it is simultaneously obvious and vague and less deliciously absurd than Lafferty at his best.  But it’s amusing enough, good for three stars.

The Dwarf, by Ray Bradbury

In Ray Bradbury’s The Dwarf (Fantastic, January/February 1954), Mr. Bigelow, a dwarf, visits the carnival daily, forks over his dime at the Mirror Maze, and heads straight for the mirror that makes him look large.  Aimee, a carnival worker, hangs out in the booth with ticket-seller Ralph when her business is slow.  She is sympathetic to Mr. Bigelow’s plight.  Ralph isn’t, and makes fun of him, and of her.  Aimee discovers that Mr. Bigelow makes a living writing detective stories, which reveal his inner torments.  Ralph plays a nasty trick on him, proving that Ralph is nasty, which we already knew.


by Sanford Kossln

Rather abruptly, end of story.  Or is it?  There’s no “Continued on . . .” at the end.  As with Try Again, I rummaged through the magazine, but found no loose piece of the story.  So I checked the original 1954 Fantastic . . . and there’s an entire page of text at the end that is omitted from this reprinted version.

No rating, since the full text doesn’t actually appear in the magazine.  It’s not one of Bradbury’s better stories to my taste, but it’s a whole lot better complete than truncated.  Sheesh.

The Traveling Crag, by Theodore Sturgeon

The Traveling Crag, from the July 1951 Fantastic Adventures, is a silly confection by Theodore Sturgeon—a non-trivial category of his ouevre.  On the other hand, silliness by Sturgeon is more palatable than that from less accomplished hands.

Cris is a literary agent with an assistant, Naome, who is obviously in love with him, though he is oblivious.  Cris has received a story, The Traveling Crag, from an unknown, Sig Weiss, which “grabs you by the throat, shakes your bones, puts a heartbeat into your lymph ducts and finally slams you down, gasping, weak, and oh so happy,” and incidentally makes a lot of money fast.  But Weiss sends no more stories.  Cris visits to find out why, and the local storekeeper warns him, “Meanest bastard ever lived,” a judgment Weiss lives up to in the flesh.


by Lawrence (L. Sterne Stevens)

When Weiss finally submits another story at Cris’s urging, it begins: “Jets blasting, Bat Durston came screeching down through the atmosphere of Bbllzznaj, a tiny planet seven billion light-years from Sol.” This is the beginning of a notorious subscription ad that ran in Galaxy, headlined YOU’LL NEVER SEE IT IN GALAXY!, designed to distinguish Galaxy’s policy from that of lowbrow pulp magazines like . . . Fantastic Adventures and Amazing Stories.  So to perpetrate this in-joke, Sturgeon must have convinced not only Galaxy editor H.L. Gold, but also Fantastic Adventures editor Howard Browne, to allow it.

But I digress.  The point is that Weiss has turned in a bunch of crap, continuing his mean-bastard performance.  Meanwhile, Cris meets Miss Tillie Moroney, who is offering a reward for an “authentic case of devil into saint,” and eventually tells him a story—“a science fiction plot”—about a humanoid race that has developed the ultimate weapon, one of which has apparently been lost on Earth for thousands of years.  And she wants Cris to get Weiss to write another blockbuster story and then find out how and where he wrote it.

So Weiss produces another story that makes everyone cry, and Cris and Tillie head out to see him, but Naome the assistant contrives to get there first, and the ultimate weapon, a small object found after a rockslide, proves to have been the key to Weiss’s transformation, but it gets triggered, and one of Tillie’s blouse buttons emits communications from the humanoids, who explain to them all telepathically that the ultimate weapon was one that stops useless conflict, and now a reaction is propagating through the atmosphere to bring the weapon’s benefits to all the world (it’s science!), and by the way Naome has paired off with Weiss, and Nick with Tillie.  “Outside, it was a greener world, and all over it the birds sang.”

It's all just Too Much, but rendered so smoothly as to disarm even the house misanthrope’s ire.  Three stars for this feat of making fatuity charming.

He Who Shrank, by Henry Hasse

“Years, centuries, aeons, have fled past me in endless parade, leaving me unscathed, for I am deathless, and in all the universe alone of my kind.  Universe?  Strange how that convenient word leaps instantly to my mind from force of old habit.  Universe?  The merest expression of a puny idea in the minds of whose who cannot possibly conceive whereof they speak.  The word is a mockery.  Yet how glibly men utter it!  How little do they realize the artificiality of the word!”

Yes!  Rave on!  Here is a fine specimen of the peak of cosmos-spanning rhetoric occasionally reached by early (pre-Campbell) SF, and what follows lives up to it in naïve grandeur.  It is the first paragraph of He Who Shrank, by Henry Hasse, a novella from the August 1936 Amazing.

The plot is essentially that of The Man from the Atom run backwards.  Atoms are solar systems and galaxies are molecules, and the Professor has devised a substance (called Shrinx!) that will reduce humans to subatomic dimensions so they can explore the sub-universes.  When his unnamed assistant is unenthusiastic about making this one-way trip, the Prof stabs hin with the needle.  As he shrinks, the Prof drops him onto a block of Rehyllium-X (sic!), where he descends into a microscopic scratch on its surface and is chased around by a germ, fearsomely portrayed by illustrator Morey.


by Leo Morey

Soon enough, our hero finds himself surrounded by luminous masses—nebulae!—and then, as he shrinks further, stars and planets.  He alights on one occupied by gaseous intelligences, shrinks further to a planet of cave-dwellers, and then (in a powerful passage) to a planet of machines gone out of control.  Their birdlike creators have fled to the world’s moon, as their mechanical heirs maniacally tear down the remains of their civilization and remake the world closer to their circuits’ desire. 

Our hero continues downward, or smallward, through universes he cannot bring himself to recount except in the most summary form (“Suns dying . . . planets cold and dark and airless . . . last vestiges of once proud races struggling for a few more years of sustenance . . . [etc.]”) But then . . . he is mysteriously attracted to a tiny, distant spark of yellow, which on approach proves to be circled by planets including a tiny blue one that twinkles invitingly, so he approaches, descends, and finds himself in . . . Cleveland!

Well, actually, he lands in Lake Erie, flooding much of Cleveland as well as nearby Toledo.  Upon attaining dry land, he is accosted by aircraft shooting at him, which he finds annoying.  He is bundled into a vehicle and taken to Cleveland, to a building where scientists assemble to interrogate him, but are unable to understand his thoughts, though he can read theirs.  He is not impressed by them, or humanity.  He escapes and flees into the countryside, where he is drawn to an isolated house occupied by a writer, of science fiction of course, who is sufficiently enlightened to be capable of receiving his thought, and to whom the shrinking man tells his tale before continuing his apparently endless and by now wearisome voyage.

In one sense this is an odd story for Amazing to reprint, since it appeared in the 1946 anthology Adventures and Time and Space, edited by Raymond J. Healy and J. Francis McComas—one of the oldest stories in the book, and the only one from Amazing.  That book is so well known that stories included in it are much more likely to be familiar to current Amazing readers than most of Sol Cohen’s other reprints.  I read that anthology when I was a kid and wondered what this old-fashioned story based on scientific nonsense was doing in the company of Heinlein, Asimov, et al.  But I’m younger than that now and can better appreciate its hokey majesty.  Four stars, allowing for its age.

Henry Hasse (b. 1913) began publishing SF in 1933; this is his third published story.  Aside from it, he is best known for collaborating with Ray Bradbury on a few minor early stories.  None of his other work, which has appeared sporadically over the decades, has garnered the recognition that this story has. 

One side note: This story presents a very early occurrence of what later was named Tuckerization, after its heavy use by Wilson Tucker: giving fictional characters the names of real members of the SF community.  The Cleveland writer to whom the shrinking man tells his story is named Stanton Cobb Lentz, obviously a reference to Stanton A. Coblentz, a prolific SF writer mainly of the late ‘20s and ‘30s, whose work is nowadays most charitably described as quaint. 

The Last Day, by Richard Matheson


by Robert Kay

In Richard Matheson’s The Last Day (Amazing, April/May 1953), the Sun is about to destroy Earth (it’s swollen and red and much too hot).  Protagonist wakes up after the last night, which he and friends have spent in drunken, lustful, and/or senselessly destructive pursuits.  He decides this approach to the end is unsatisfactory, and after wrestling with his conscience reluctantly heads to his parents’ house (shooting an attacker en route).  He has avoided this visit for years because of his mother’s excessive piety.  But on this final hot day, she’s cool, and they hang out waiting for the end.  The editor blurbs: “Waxing philosophical is like waxing a floor; it is powerful easy to fall on your face while trying it.” Matheson does not.  Four stars, mainly for keeping just on the right side of bathos as he renders the conventional sentiments.

Science of Man: War Is Peace, by Leon E. Stover

Leon E. Stover is back with another of his “Science of Man” articles, War Is Peace, written in his usual dogmatic style.  He takes on the likes of Konrad Lorenz (of On Aggression), arguing that aggression is not a mode of behavior that we must sublimate or otherwise redirect, but a goal-directed extension of human social organization.  He says: “The ethologists have nothing to offer that can improve on what Karl von Clauswitz said of war in the 19th century: that it is an extension of politics carried on by different means.” And he concludes: “There is no magic solution to be found in animal behavior studies, psychology, or biology.  Do not be misled.  The only solution is better politics.  But we have to know that to want it.” Well, maybe—he has no suggestions for how we get there in practice.  But Stover recounts much entertaining anthropological lore along the way.

Three stars.

Summing Up

Well, that wasn’t bad at all.  The new material is lively and interesting, and even the reprints are all readable or better, with nothing grossly stupid or incompetent.  Admittedly, that shouldn’t be the standard, but in Sol Cohen-world it does make a difference.  This issue is a magazine that one might actually purchase for enjoyment and not as a duty, a change not to be sneezed at.  Can it continue?



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




[June 10, 1968] Froth and Frippery (July 1968 Galaxy)


by Gideon Marcus

A little goes a long way

Science fiction has a reputation for being a serious genre.  In tone, that is–it's still mostly dismissed by "serious" literary aficionados. Whether it's gloomy doomsday predictions or thrilling stellar adventure, laughs are usually scarce.

There is, however, a distinct thread of whimsy within the field.  Satire and farce can be found galore.  For instance, Robert Sheckley was a master of light, comedic sf short stories in the '50s (he's less good at it these days).  In moderation, fun/funny stories break up a turgid clutch of dour tales.

On the other hand, when you put a bunch together, particularly when only one of them is above average…

You get this month's issue of Galaxy.

You're too much, man


by Jack Gaughan

Before we get to the stories, in his editorial column Fred Pohl reminds Galaxy readers to submit proposals for the ending of the Vietnam War…in 100 words or fewer.

It makes me want to send something like this (with apologies to Laugh-In:

How I would end the War in Vietnam, by Henry Gibson.

"I would end the War in Vietnam by bombing the Vietnamese.  I would bomb them a lot.  When there are no more Vietnamese, we would win."

Thank you.

A Specter is Haunting Texas (Part 1 of 3), by Fritz Leiber


by Jack Gaughan

The lead piece is the beginning of a new serial by one of the old titans of science fiction.  It tells of one Christopher Crockett de la Cruz, an actor from a space colony orbiting the moon.  He has come down to Earth to ply his trade, a very risky endeavor as even lunar gravity is uncomfortable for him.  De la Cruz requires an integrated exoskeleton to get around.  That plus his emaciated, 8-foot frame makes him look like nothing so much as Death himself.  A handsome, well-featured Death, but Death just the same.  (Hmmm… a handsome, gaunt actor–I wonder on whom this character could be based!)

As strange as De la Cruz is, the situation on Earth is even stranger.  He makes touchdown in Texas, now an independent nation again in the aftermath of an atomic catastrophe in the late '60s.  Its inhabitants have all been modified to top eight feet as well (everything is bigger in Texas, by God's or human design), and they claim sovereignty of all North America, from the Guatemalan canal to the Northwest Territory.  And over the Mexicans in particular, who not only are excluded from the height-enhancing hormone, but many of whom are forced to live as thralls, harnessed with electric cloaks that make them mindless slaves.

Quickly, De la Cruz is embroiled in local politics, unwittingly used to spearhead a coup against the current President of Texas.  Along the way, the descriptions, the events, the setting are absurd to the extreme–from the reverence paid to "Lyndon the First", father of the nation, to the ridiculous courtships between De la Cruz and the two female characters.

It shouldn't work, and it almost doesn't, but underneath all the silliness, there is the skeleton of a plot and a fascinating world.  It doesn't hurt that Leiber is such a veteran; I've read froth for froth's sake, and this isn't it.  I'm willing to see where he goes with it.

Three stars.

McGruder's Marvels, by R. A. Lafferty


by Joe Wehrle, Jr.

The military needs a miniaturized component for its uber-weapon in two weeks, but the regular contractors can't guarantee delivery for two years.  The colonels in charge of procuring reject out of hand a bid that will provide parts for virtually nothing and almost instantly.  It is only when they start losing a global war that they grasp at the seemingly ludicrous straw.

Turns out the fellow who made the bid used to run a flea circus.  Naturally, now he's into miniaturization.  His parts really do work, and they really are cheap, but as can be expected, there's a catch.

If I hadn't known this story was written by Lafferty, I'd still have guessed it was written by Lafferty.  After all, he and whimsy are old companions.  It's more of an F&SF fantasy than SF, but it at least has the virtue of being memorable.  Three stars.

There Is a Tide, by Larry Niven


by Jeff Jones

The best piece of the issue is this one, featuring a new Niven character (the 180-year-old space prospector Louis Wu) in a familiar setting (Known Space).  This is set later than the rest of the stories, past the Bey Schaeffer tales, contemporaneous with Safe at Any Speed somewhere close to the year 3000.

Wu has gotten tired of people, and so he has gone off in his one-man ship to explore the stars.  His motive is fame–he wants to find himself a relic of the Slavers, the telepathic race of beings who ruled the galaxy and died in an interstellar war more than a billion years ago.  In a far off system, his deep radar pings off an infinitely reflective object in orbit around an Earthlike world.  Assuming it's a Slaver treasure box, kept in stasis these countless eons, he moves in for the salvage.  But a new kind of alien has gotten there first…

Once again, Niven does a fine job of establishing a great deal with thumbnail, throwaway lines.  In the end, Tide is a scientific gimmick story, the kind of which I'd expect to find in Analog (why doesn't Niven show up in Analog?), but the personal details elevate the story beyond its foundation.

It's funny; I read in a 'zine (fan or pro, I can't remember) that Niven writes hard SF that eschews characterization.  I think Niven writes quite unique and memorable characters and hard SF.  It's a welcome combination.

Four stars.

Bailey's Ark , by Burt K. Filer

by Brock

Now back to silliness.  Atomic tests have caused the oceans to flood the land.  After a few decades, only a few mountaintop communities are left, and soon they will be inundated.  Fourteen humans have been chosen to be put into cold storage for 1500 years, to emerge when the waters have receded.

All the animals have died, except for a few caged specimens, and no effort has been made to preserve them through the impending apocalypse.  It's up to one wily vet to save at least one species by sneaking it into the stasis Ark without anyone noticing.

Everything about this story is dumb, from the set up to the execution.  Its only virtues are that it's vaguely readable and that it's short.

Two stars.

For Your Information: Interplanetary Communications, by Willy Ley

This is a strange article which never quite makes a point.  The subject is sending messages from points around the solar system, but ultimately, Ley presents just two notable things:

1) A table of interplanetary distances (available in any decent astronomy book, and without even a convenient translation of kilometers to light-seconds/minutes/hours).

2) The assertion that satellites, artificial or natural, will be necessary as communications relays as direct sending of messages from planetary surface to planetary surface is prohibitively power-intensive.  It is left to the reader's imagination as to why that would be.

Sloppy, rushed stuff.  Two stars.

Dreamer, Schemer, by Brian W. Aldiss

Two captains of industry vie for control of a city.  One offers a collaboration; the other takes advantage of the offer, double crosses the offerer, and leaves him penniless.  When the double-crosser gets second thoughts, he subjects himself to a "play-out", a sort of mind trip where he gets to recreate and re-examine his decision in a fantasy world scenario.  The double-crossed, coincidentally, engages in a "play-out" at the same time, for the same reason.

This concept was done much more effectively more than a decade ago in Ellison's The Silver Corridor.  Two stars.

Factsheet Six, by John Brunner


by Jack Gaughan

A callous capitalist comes across "Factsheet Five", a rudely typed circular that details all the horrible injuries caused by the defects in various companies' products.  This and the prior Factsheets have had harmful impacts on the companies listed, from financial loss to outright bankruptcy.  The capitalist, who has his own industrial empire (and attendant quality-control issues), wants to find the author of the Factsheets so he can get inside knowledge to make a killing in the investor market.

Of course, we know who will be featured in Factsheet Six…

This is the kind of corny, Twilight Zone-y piece that shows up in the odd issue of F&SF.  I was sad to find it here.

Two stars.

Seconds' Chance, by Robin Scott Wilson


by Brand

Ever wonder who cleans up after the James Bonds and Kelly Robinsons of the world, settling insurance claims, smoothing diplomatic feathers, etc.?  This is their story.

Their rather pointless, one-joke-spread-over-too-many-pages, story.

Two stars.

When I Was in the Zoo, by A. Bertram Chandler


by Vaughn Bodé

Here's a shaggy dog story, told White Hart style, about an Aussie fisherman who gets abducted by jellyfish aliens, exhibited in a zoo with a collection of terrestrial animals, and then seduced for professional reasons by one of the lady jellyfish.

Frankly, I'm not quite sure what else to say about it other than it's the sort of tale you'd expect from A. Bertram Chandler writing a White Hart story–competent, maritime, Australian, and forgettable.

Three stars.

2001: A Space Odyssey, by Lester del Rey

The issue ends with a review panning 2001 as New Wave nihilism, meaningless save for the vague suggestion that intelligence is always evil.  This is a facile take.  It's possible 2001 is what I call a "Rorschach film", like, say, Blow Up, where the director throws a bunch of crap on the screen and leaves it to the viewer to invent a coherent story.  However, there are enough clues throughout the film to make the film reasonably comprehensible.  Moreover, there is a book that explains everything in greater detail.

I'm not saying 2001 is perfect, and I imagine those who had to sit through the longer, uncut version enjoyed it less (save for Chip Delany, who apparently preferred it.  I'll never know which I would have liked best, since the director not only trimmed down the film after release, but burned the cut footage!) But it is a brilliant film, extremely innovative, and it's worth a watch.

Starving for a bite

After eating all that cotton candy, with only the smallest morsel of meat to go with it, I am absolutely famished for something substantial.  Thankfully, I'm about to hop a Boeing 707 for a trip to Japan, where not only the food will be exquisite, but I can catch up on all the 4 and 5 star stories recommended by my fellow Travelers in earlier months.

Stay tuned for reports from the Orient!






</small

[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.






[March 16, 1968] In Distant Lands (March Galactoscope)


by Cora Buhlert

Protests in Poland

Student protests have been erupting all over Europe and even the otherwise nigh impenetrable iron curtain cannot stop them.

Student protests in Poland, 1968
Protesting students run from the police in Warsaw, Poland.

The latest country to be rocked by student protests is Poland. The protests were triggered when a production of the play Dziady (Forefathers' Eve) by Adam Mickiewicz, Poland's most celebrated poet, was pulled from the Warsaw National Theatre because of alleged anti-Soviet tendencies. In response, students protested against the cancellation of the play and censorship in general. More than thirty students were arrested during the initial protests in Warsaw and two of them were expelled from the University of Warsaw. The fact that both expelled students happened to be Jewish suggests that Anti-Semitism, which has been rearing its ugly head in Poland again in recent years under the guise of Anti-Zionism, may have played a role.

The Polish students, however, were not willing to give up and announced another protest for March 8. The authorities responded with violence and pre-emptively arrested several student leaders. Nonetheless, the protests spread to other Polish cities.

Buddha is a Spaceman: Lord of Light by Roger Zelazny

Lord of Light by Roger Zelazny

Roger Zelazny, of Polish origin himself, is one of the most exciting young authors in our genre and has already won two Nebulas and one Hugo Award, which is remarkable, considering he has only been writing professionally for not quite six years.

My own response to Zelazny's works has been mixed. I enjoyed some of them very much (the Dilvish the Damned stories from Fantastic or last year's novella "Damnation Alley" from Galaxy) and could not connect to others at all (the highly lauded "A Rose for Ecclesiastes"). So I opened Zelazny's latest novel Lord of Light with trepidation, for what would I find within, the Zelazny who wrote the Dilvish the Damned stories or the one who wrote "A Rose for Ecclesiastes"?

The answer is "a little bit of both" and "neither". Lord of Light is not so much a novel, but a series of interconnected stories, two of which, "Dawn" and "Death and the Executioner", appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction last year. To make things even more disjointed, the stories are not arranged in chronological order either.

The novel starts with the resurrection of Mahasamatman, Sam to his friends, who may or may not be a god. Sam is not happy about his resurrection, because he was pulled back into bodily existence from a blissful, Nirvana-like bodyless existence that was supposed to be a punishment, the only way of executing one who is functionally immortal. We gradually learn what brought Sam to this place, namely his rebellion against the gods of his world who keep the population downtrodden and oppressed .

Initially, Lord of Light appears to be a fantasy novel, but we eventually realise that the novel is set on a distant planet in the far future and that the gods and demigods we meet are the crew of the Earth spaceship Star of India, which landed here eons ago, while the demons are the original inhabitants of the planet. The human crew mutated themselves to better survive and reincarnate themselves in new bodies via mind transfer to become immortal. They rule over their descendants with an iron hand as self-styled gods. Sam, however, will have none of this and launches a rebellion.

Fantasy and science fiction have been drawing from European religion, mythology and history for decades. In Lord of Light, however, Zelazny draws on Hindu and Buddhist religion and mythology. The spaceship crew turned gods are based on Hindu deities, while Sam is based on Siddhartha Gautama a.k.a. Buddha.

Indian culture is popular right now and Indian influences can be seen in fashion, interior design, music (the Beatles have just embarked on a meditation sojourn in India) as well as in the yoga studios springing up in the big cities. Therefore, it was only a matter of time before Indian influences would appear in science fiction. Especially since it would be silly to assume that only white Christian westerners get to travel to the stars. There is a Christian character in Lord of Light, by the way; the ship's former chaplain Renfrew embarks on a crusade against the self-styled Hindu gods and their worshippers.

The Beatles in India
The Beatles arrived in India for a meditation retreat last month.

It is a refreshing change to read a science fiction novel where eastern rather than western culture and religion dominate the far future. Nonetheless, something about Lord of Light bothered me. As a child, I spent time in South East Asia, mainly in Singapore, but also in Bangkok, because my Dad was stationed there as an agent for the Norddeutscher Lloyd and DDG Hansa shipping companies. And while I cannot claim to know a lot about Hinduism and Buddhism (though two war-battered Buddha statues guard my home), I know enough to realise that Zelazny gets a lot of things wrong.

Fullerton Building in Singapore
Singapore as it looked when I lived there: The General Post Office a.k.a. the Fullerton Building, which was brand-new at the time. I understand Singapore has been modernising rapidly since gaining independence.
C.K. Tang Ltd. in Singapore
The C.K. Tang Ltd. department store in Singapore, where my mother and I enjoyed shopping back in the day.

Of course, Zelazny isn't the only person to rather liberally adapt mythology into fiction. For example, The Broken Sword by Poul Anderson, Marvel's The Mighty Thor comics or The Ring of the Nibelungs by Richard Wagner are all liberal adaptions of Norse mythology and yet I am not bothered by them. However, hardly anybody worships the Norse or the Greek gods anymore, whereas Hinduism and Buddhism are living religions with some 255 and 150 million worshipers respectively. And borrowing from a living religion as someone who is not an adherent feels disrespectful in a way that turning Norse gods into superheroes does not.

I for one would love to see more science fiction and fantasy that draws on non-western culture and mythology. However, I would prefer to read works written by authors who actually come from the culture in question rather than by a Polish-Irish Catholic from Ohio. India is a country of 533 million people. Surely, some of them write science fiction and I hope to eventually see their take on Indian mythology and history rather than Zelazny's.

Interesting and well written but disjointed and somewhat disrespectful to half a billion Hindus and Buddhists.

Three and a half stars

Looting the Pharaohs: Easy Go by John Lange

Easy Go by John Lange

I don't just read science fiction and fantasy, but am also fond of mysteries and thrillers. This is how I came across John Lange, who burst onto the scene two years ago with the heist novel Odds On and followed up with the spy thriller Scratch One last year. Both novels are notable for their tight writing and clever plots, as well as their evocative – and as far as I can tell accurate – description of locations deemed exotic by the average American reader. There even is the occasional science fiction element, e.g. the heist in Odds On is planned using a computer program.

Lange's latest novel Easy Go contains all the elements that made his previous works so enjoyable. This time, Lange takes us to Egypt, where an American archaeologist named Harold Barnaby has made an exciting discovery, a seemingly innocuous papyrus which contains an coded message revealing the location of a heretofore undiscovered royal tomb. This discovery could gain Barnaby academic accolades – or a whole lot of money. Barnaby chooses the latter and decides to rob the tomb. However, the timid academic needs help and finds it in Richard Pierce, a journalist and old war buddy of Barnaby's who has the connections and the plan to pull off the heist of the century.

Cairo 1968
These days, Cairo is a bustling modern city, which does not remotely look like the set of a Hollywood sword and sandal epic, contrary to popular belief.

The novel follows the usual beats of a heist story. A team of specialists is assembled and a carefully plotted plan is executed, while fate keeps throwing wrenches at our protagonists, especially since the Egyptian authorities turn out to be not nearly as stupid as Pierce and Barnaby assumed. We have seen this sort of story before in movies like Ocean's Eleven, Topkapi or the TV-show Mission Impossible and yet Lange brings a unique flair to the well-worn plot via his knowledge of Egyptology and his vivid descriptions of bustling modern day Egypt (which contrary to popular belief does not look like the set of a Hollywood sword and sandal epic). The building of the Aswan Dam and the moving of the Temple of Abu Simbel play a notable role.

Moving Abu Simbel
The marvelous of moving the Abu Simbel temple to save it from sinking into the rising waters of the Aswan Dam.

But who is John Lange? Rumour has it that he is a medical student at Harvard who is writing under a pseudonym in order to finance his tuition. Rumour also has it that Lange is working on a bona fide science fiction novel about a deadly plague from outer space, which is expected to come out next year. I can't wait.

An fun caper thriller which will make you want to book a trip to Egypt.

Four and a half stars



by Victoria Silverwolf

Tuning Up the Orchestra

I recently read a quartet of new works of speculative fiction. They range from so-called Hard SF, dealing with science and technology, to New Wave experimentation. Like the movements of a symphony, they offer varying contents, moods, and tempos. Let's grab copies of the program notes and find some good seats before the music begins.

First Movement: Andante


Anonymous cover art.

Out of the Sun, by Ben Bova

An American fighter plane traveling at three times the speed of sound over the Arctic Ocean suddenly breaks apart. The same thing happens to two other aircraft of the same kind. The military calls in the fellow who designed the special metal alloy from which the planes were constructed. He has to figure out what's wrong before more lives are lost.

This is a very short book with plenty of white space. I suspect it was intended for younger readers. (Unlike most so-called juveniles, however, all the characters are adults.) There are some violent deaths, but never described in any detail. The closest thing to sex in its pages is the hero taking a woman out to dinner.

This problem-solving story wouldn't be out of place in the pages of Analog. (Fortunately, it lacks John W. Campbell's quirky obsessions.) It moves at a moderate pace, but is never very exciting. You might be able to predict the main plot gimmick before it's revealed, if you've been keeping up with recent developments in technology.

The writing is very plain and simple. You could easily finish the book in an hour. A longer version, with more fully developed characters, would be welcome.

Two stars.

Second Movement: Adagio


Cover art by Robert Korn.

The God Machine, by Martin Caidin

This one starts with a bang. The narrator, having survived multiple attempts on his life, allows a woman with whom he's been having an affair to enter his room. She immediately offers her body to him, thrusting herself at him wantonly. Instead of reacting the way you'd expect, he knocks her unconscious with the butt of his pistol.

No juvenile novel here!

A long flashback tells us how he got into this situation. The narrator is a mathematical genius. The government contacts him while he's in high school, offering to pay for the best possible college education. In return, they want him to work on a hush-hush project.

It seems that millions of dollars of taxpayer money have been spent constructing a facility deep inside a mountain in Colorado. In terms of secrecy and security, it's the equivalent of the Manhattan Project. The goal? To build a super-powerful computer, one that can come up with its own ideas of how best to prevent a nuclear war.

The computer can also directly communicate with human beings through the use of alpha waves in their brains. Add in the fact that, along with the rest of its vast knowledge, it understands a lot about hypnosis, and you can see where this is going.

When the machine decides that the narrator has to be eliminated, things seem hopeless. He can't trust anybody. The computer itself is protected by lasers, electricity, and radiation. It's got its own secure atomic power generators, so you can't just turn it off. What's a fellow to do?

Other than the opening and closing scenes, most of the book moves at a leisurely pace. In sharp contrast to Bova's slim volume, this tome is well over three hundred pages. It could benefit from some judicious editing; I learned more than I really needed to know about the narrator's life before he becomes the computer's target.

Two stars.

Third Movement: Scherzo


Cover art by Richard Powers.

The Reefs of Earth, by R. A. Lafferty

As soon as you take a look at the table of contents for the author's first novel, you know you're in for something different.

Not only are the chapter titles weird, they form a poem. There are lots of other little bits of verse throughout the book as well. Usually, these are poems that the six children (or seven, if you count Bad John) use to work magic, particularly to kill people.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, and I'm confusing you. Let me start over.

Some time ago, two married couples came to Earth from another planet. They're doomed to succumb to Earth sickness. They had a total of six children (or seven, if you count Bad John) among them. Because these offspring were born on Earth, they won't get the sickness.

What's this Bad John nonsense? I hear you cry.

Well, he died at birth, but he's still around. Only certain Earth folks, such as an American Indian and a drunken Frenchman, can perceive him. He's insubstantial and can pass through walls and such, but the other children are emphatic that he is not a ghost.

I have no idea why he's called Bad John. Another of the kids is just named John.

This gives you a tiny hint of how eccentric this book is. I would be hard pressed to provide a coherent plot summary. It has something to do with the children plotting to kill everybody on the planet. Meanwhile, one of the adults is blamed for a murder he didn't commit.

The narrative style is that of a tall tale or a shaggy dog story. The mood might be described as serious whimsy. There's a lot of violence — the basic plot, if there is one, involves an ax murder — but only the Earth people seem to care very much about it. It's not exactly a black comedy, but it treats death in an offhand fashion.

Although they're from another planet, the characters are more supernatural than alien. (They're called the Puka, and the allusion to the Pooka from Celtic myth seems intentional.)

It may be labeled as science fiction, but this is a fantasy novel, and a very strange one at that. How much you get out of it will depend on whether or not you're willing to let the author take you on a dizzying journey with no particular destination in kind.

Four stars.

Fourth Movement: Allegro


Cover art by Harry Douthwaite.

The Final Programme, by Michael Moorcock

As editor of a remarkably transformed version of the venerable science fiction magazine New Worlds, the author proves himself to be the guiding light of the British New Wave. This book shows he can write the stuff, too.

It first appeared as three separate stories in New Worlds. I'm not sure how much has been added to it, if anything, or how substantially it's been revised, if at all. It's more coherent as a whole rather than in bits and pieces, but it's still somewhat episodic.

Jerry Cornelius is a rock star, a brilliant scientist/philosopher, and as quick with a gun as James Bond. He's also a snappy dresser. We'll get a lot of detailed descriptions of his mod outfits throughout the book.

Jerry gets involved with some folks who want to get their hands on microfilm kept secure in the fortress home of his late father. Complicating matters is the presence inside the house of Jerry's sinister brother Frank and his beloved sister Catherine.

(The relationship between Jerry and Catherine may remind you of a certain controversial story that recently appeared in a groundbreaking anthology.)

Things get pretty wild at this point, from a bloody assault on the fortress to a secret underground base built by the Nazis to the novel's truly apocalyptic climax.

I should mention another character who plays a vital part in the story. Miss Brunner (no first name ever given) is an enigma. At first, she seems to be nothing more than one of the conspirators who work with Jerry. She soon turns out to be a most peculiar sort of person indeed.

I'd say Miss Brunner is actually the heart of the novel, more so than Jerry himself. She's always several steps ahead of everyone else, and has an agenda of her own that doesn't become clear until the end of the book.

The author's style is usually surprisingly traditional, no matter how bizarre the plot. The mood combines frenzy with the feeling that things are falling apart all over, and that maybe this is a good thing. At times, I felt that Moorcock was amusing himself at the expense of the reader. It's worth a look, but you may wonder what it's all supposed to mean.

Three stars.



by Gideon Marcus

Ace Double H-48

The Youth Monopoly, by Ellen Wobig

Rod Dorashi is a vagabond, a member of the wretched working class of Metropolis, staying out of trouble so as not to be squashed by the draconian dictator Korm.  Yet he risks all to take in an old man, hit by a car, in his last hours of life.  The dying man presses a packet of seeds upon Rod, promising that they are the secret to eternal life.

Enter Bey Ormand, a slick powerful man who is the founder and ruler of Trysis–a paradisical resort and the sole purveyor of the distilled essence of the forever seeds.  For a lordly sum, they turn back the clock for their customers by five years.  Seemingly without motive, Ormand picks up Rod and adds him to his select coterie of multi-centenarians.  The troupe then acts as little dictators, forcing all invitees, whether petty princes of a Balkanized America, or faded stars and starlets, to grovel at their feet.

Despite an instinct for rebellion, Dorashi never quite revolts.  Instead, he sticks with the sadistic Ormand and his band for centuries.  When they leave (almost without notice), the wrap-up is many pages of explanation: turns out Ormand et. al. were not very old humans but actually very old aliens, and the goal of the project was to siphon off the wealth of the Earth–something they've done time and again.

The whole thing reads like a long, unpleasant cocktail party, and the framing of the ending is not at all condemnatory.  It merely is.

I applaud new author Wobig for their first publication, but I found The Youth Monopoly a difficult, and ultimately unrewarding, read.

Two stars.

Pictures of Pavanne, by Lan Wright

On the dead planet of Pavanne, light years from Earth, reside 'The Pictures'.  This tremendous tapestry, carved from native rock by unknown aliens countless eons ago, are the most beautiful sight in the galaxy.  And, of course, capitalism being what it is, the Harkrider corporation has secured the license to the their viewing.  Now, Pavanne is a pleasure planet that specializes in relieving every wealthy guest of their money, pouring it into the coffers of the half-robotic, entirely wizened Jason Harkrider.

Enter Max Farway, one of humanity's leading artists.  Driven by the need to prove himself, exacerbated by the twisted, diminutive and sterile body he was born with, Farway resolves to tackle the hardest subject of art: The Pictures themselves.  And so, he travels to Pavanne with his beautiful, recently widowed step-mother, and his much put-upon agent, in time for the conjunction of the alien planet and the brighter of its two suns–when the artifact achieves its highest, and most ineffable level of beauty.  But once he steps foot on Pavanne, Farway finds himself in a power struggle with the planet's venal warlord, with Harkrider's assistant, Rudolph Heininger, a wild card in the conflict.  At the heart of it all are the unknown predictions of the murdered mathematician Damon Wisehart, whose calculations suggest something terrible is soon to occur involving Pavanne and its extraterrestrial art.

For a good portion of the reading, I admired author Wright's juxtaposition of the petty and irritable Farway, along with the thoroughly disgusting Wisehart (and his twisted twin daughters), with the unearthly beauty of The Pictures.  As Farway slowly grows up under the ministrations of his gentle step-mother, I looked forward to a piece that was largely philosophical, eschewing the fetters of the typical Ace Double.  This is largely discarded at the end, as things wrap up suddenly and with much action, but without much heart.

Perhaps a more satisfying book remains to be published by a different press.  As is, I give it three stars.



Need more science fiction?  The next episode of Star Trek is on TONIGHT! You won't want to miss it:

Here's the invitation!



[January 16, 1968] Worthy programming (February 1968 Galaxy)


by Gideon Marcus

On the small screen

A few weeks ago, President Johnson signed into effect the Public Broadcasting Act.  Its purpose, among other things, is to turn a decentralized constellation of educational stations and program producers into a government-funded network.  It's basically socialism vs. the vast wasteland.

Given the quality of programming I've seen produced by National Education Television, particularly on independent station KQED-San Francisco (e.g. "Jazz Casual" and "The Rejected"), I am all for this move.  Indeed, I've recently come across a show that has really sold me on public television.

NET Journal is a series on political matters of the day.  In December, they had a program that showed the results of a week-long workshop in which 12 affluent young men and women of a multitude of ethnicities lived together and discussed their prejudices.  What they determined was surprising to them, and maybe to us.  As we saw in the film Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, even in the most bleeding heart liberal, there is prejudice; and it's not just directed from whites to minorities.

This week, we caught an interview with four journalists in Saigon.  Recently, LBJ and General Westmoreland have been cheerleading the effort in Vietnam, saying that the three-year commitment of half a million troops is bearing fruit.  The South Vietnam-based journalists dispute this rosy view.  They say progress has been slow, that the South Vietnamese army is hopelessly corrupt and must be reformed from the head down if it is to operate effectively without American support, and that we are not engaged in "nation-building" because there is currently no nation.  The elections are meaningless so long as there be no real choices to be made, so long as bribes and payoffs accomplish more than the rule of law.

Withering stuff.  Next week, the program will be on draft-dodgers.

On the small page

Galaxy Science Fiction is also an exellent, long-running source of information and entertainment.  This month's issue is a particularly good example.


by Jack Gaughan

A Tragedy of Errors, by Poul Anderson

Anderson has established a reputation for producing some of the "hardest" SF around, laden with astrophysical tidbits.  On the other hand, his quality varies from sublime to threadbare.  Luckily, his latest novella lies far closer to the former end of the scale.

Tragedy takes place in what appears to be the far future of his Polysotechnic League history.  The loose interstellar confederation of planets became an empire and subsequently went into decline a la the worlds in H. Beam Piper's Space Viking universe and Asimov's Foundation setting.  I really like these "after the fall" stories of folks trying to patch a polity back together, maybe better than it was before.


by Gray Morrow

This particular story is the tale of Roan Tom, Dagny, and Yasmin, the crew of the merchant-pirate Firedrake.  Their ship is in desperate need of repairs, and the only planet within range of the married trio is a Mars-sized world around a swollen orange sun.  Luckily, said world was once a human colony of the Empire and thus may have the resources needed to fix a starship.

Unluckily, the planet has been recently plundered by pirates, and the inhabitants do not take kindly to strangers–especially ones that call themselves "friends."

There's a lot to like about this riproaring tale of aerial maneuvers, overland evasion, and fast-talking diplomacy.  For one, two of the main characters are women, and highly competent ones at that.  Moreover, it is an ensemble cast, with each of the three coming into the spotlight for extended periods of time.

There is also a mystery of sorts, here…or several, really, all woven together: how does this undersized planet have an atmosphere?  Indications are that this is a young world, but why, then, does the dense planet have so little surface metal?  And why is the star so unstable, prone to devastating solar storms that play hell with the planet's weather?  Solving this astronomical puzzle proves key to addressing the Firedrake crew's more immediate problems.

Of course, you have to like detailed explanations of stellar and planetary parameters and phenomena.  I personally love this sort of thing, but others may find their eyes glazing.  On the other hand, there's plenty to enjoy even if you decide to let the science wash over you.  The sanguine antics of Roan Tom, the determined toughness of Dagny, the more refined and tentative brilliance of Yasmin.  These are great characters, and I'd like to see more of them.

Four stars.

The Planet Slummers, by Terry Carr and Alexei Panshin

A pair of young thrift store bargain hunters are, in turn, scooped up by a pair of alien specimen collectors.  I think the story is supposed to be ironic, or symbolic, or something.

Forgettable.  Two stars.

Crazy Annaoj, by Fritz Leiber


by Jack Gaughan

Ah, but then we have the story of a different couple: a superannuated trillionaire and a dewy (but flinty) eyed young starlet.  There's is a love fated for the ages, but not the way you might think.

Just a terrific tale told the way only Leiber (or maybe Cordwainer Smith) could tell it.

Five stars.

Street of Dreams, Feet of Clay, by Robert Sheckley


by Vaughn Bodé

Imagine moving to the city of the future: clean, architecturally pleasing, smog-free, crammed with creature comforts.  Now imagine the city is run by a computer brain…with the personality of a Jewish mother.

Bob Sheckley is Jewish, so I suspect he didn't have to strain his imagination much for this one.  Droll, but a little too painful and one-note to be great.

Three stars.

For Your Information: Epitaph for a Lonely Olm, by Willy Ley

This is a pretty dandy story about a sightless cave salamander that lives its whole life in the water, thus eschewing the amphibian portion of its nature.  Thanks to this creature, we have the concept of "neoteny"–the retention of juvenile traits for evolutionary advantage.  The blind, pale beast also ensured the fame of Marie von Chauvin, a 19th Century zoologist.

Four stars.

Sales of a Deathman, by Robert Bloch


by Jack Gaughan

How do we combat the exploding birth rate?  By making suicide sexy, thus exploding the death rate!

Bloch's modest proposal would be better suited to a three line comedy routine than a several-page vignette.  Three stars.

Total Environment, by Brian W. Aldiss


by Jack Gaughan

Crammed into a ten-story self-contained habitat, 75,000 persons of Indian descent live a life of increasing desperation and squalor.  At first, we are given to believe that the settlement is a natural response to the crushing pressure of overpopulation.  As it turns out, the Ultra-High Density Research Establishment (UHDRE) is actually a deliberate experiment in inducing psychic abilities through exposure to unique pressures.  Just 25 years ago, the site had a population of only 1500.  Now, teeming to bursting, the hoped-for psionic adepts are appearing–and an empire in a teapot is arising on UHDRE's Top Deck to take advantage of them.

Aldiss writes a compelling story.  One thinks it's just the second coming of Harrison's Make Room!  Make Room! until it isn't.  In some ways, this actually hurts the story, causing it to lose focus.  On the other hand, the setting is so well-drawn, and the situation suspenseful enough, that it still engages and entertains.

Four stars.

How They Gave It Back, by R. A. Lafferty


by Gray Morrow

The last mayor of Manhattan finds The Big Apple isn't worth the bother, now that it's degenerated into a ruined, gangland state run by a quintet of bandits.  Thankfully, the original owners will buy it back–for its original fee.

Again, this might have made a humorous short bit.  As is, you see the punchline from the first words (the title and illo help), and the slog isn't worth the ending.

Two stars.

The Big Show, by Keith Laumer


by Wallace Wood

Last up, a frothy adventure featuring a TV star recruited to infilitrate the last cannibal island in the South Pacific to thwart a nefarious Soviet scheme.  This is yet another in the recent spate of stories involving total sensory television in which hundreds of millions viscerally experience the lives of actors.

Unlike Kate Wilhelm's or George Collyn's spin on the subject, Laumer doesn't do very much with the gimmick.  Instead, it's another of his midly amusing but eminently forgettable yarns.

Two stars.

Summing up

Despite a sprinkling of clunkers, the latest Galaxy delivers the goods.  Two good novellas, a fine nonfiction piece, and an excellent Lieber short would have filled F&SF nicely.  So just pretend that the other stories don't exist and enjoy the good stuff.

And then tune in to NET Journal the next few weeks while you wait for the next issue!





[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.





[August 14, 1967] She Does Everything For Me (Orbit 2 by Damon Knight)


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

After a mammoth twenty-four-and-a-half-hour Parliamentary session (the longest in 16 years) the Medical Termination of Pregnancy Bill, more commonly called “The Abortion Act”, proceeded through its third reading before the summer recess. Meaning it will be going for final vote in the autumn.

This has been a change that has been long campaigned for and fiercely fought over. The existing law in the UK is over 100 years old and states:

Every woman, being with child, who, with intent to procure her own miscarriage… [or] of any woman, whether she be or be not with child, [by any] means whatsoever…shall be guilty of felony, and being convicted thereof shall be liable… to be kept in penal servitude for life

This extremely restrictive law allows only where a medical professional considers the mother’s life to be in immediate danger or a risk of severe mental and physical impairment.

This is a very high bar has forced numbers of women to be stuck between to choosing to keep unwanted and\or dangerous pregnancies to term, or make use of an illegal “backstreet abortion” which can also be hazardous, without trained medical professionals around

These have been featured as plots in many major works of fiction lately, such as Ken Loach’s adaptation of Neil Dunn’s Up The Junction or big screen hit Alfie.

Still from Alfie of pain from backstreet abortion
Still from Alfie of a relevant scene

There are many objectors to reform, with objections to the new law including claims it will give Doctor’s a carte-blanche to euthanize infants, women claiming rape later as a means to have promiscuous sex without birth control, a method for genocide of the disabled by the back door, and other extreme claims.

The most dramatic moment in the debate came where the Bill’s sponsor David Steel brought out a seven-week-old half-inch fetus and said:

To talk of this in terms of crying, wriggling or anything like that is quite misleading. This is what we are weighing against the life and welfare of the mother and her family.

This was a direct refutation of the claim of The Society for the Protection of Unborn Children where Prof. Donald claimed at their conference that, at 28 days:

You have a live baby and it kicks, and goes on kicking for a long time.

Whilst there have been some amendments made in The House of Lords which will have to be debated when the Bill returns to The Commons in October, it looks set for there to be an expansion of abortion available on the NHS coming. And I myself am very glad of this. It has been a long time coming and represents a real move towards a women’s rights.

Perhaps this spirit of change is in the air, for in the latest anthology I am reviewing Orbit 2, the best stories are about the treatment of women in societies past and yet to come:

Orbit 2

Orbit 2 Cover

The Doctor, by Ted Thomas

Dr. Gant takes part in a time-travel experiment and finds himself back in the stone age. There he attempts to continue his practice and medically help the early humans.

That is it. I came out of it saying “…and?” If there is some kind of moral in it, it is that savage people don’t appreciate modern science and don’t know what’s good for them.

A low two stars

Baby You Were Great!, by Kate Wilhelm

In the future a new kind of entertainment has been developed where you can feel the emotions of another. The most popular is A Day in the Life of Anne Beaumont, eight hours of programming where they get to experience wealthy actress Anne Beaumont’s life.

Anne wants to break the contract as she is sick of the contrived situations they put her in and has fallen in love. However, at this point what is real and what is fiction?

This quite a terrifying story about the development of television as people seek out more shocking entertainment in the style of Candid Camera. The scenes of rape auditions are particularly striking, but in a way that I am sure was intended. It makes very fascinating points and is one of the most interesting pieces in this collection.

I do have a bit of trouble imagining why anyone would want to experience the edited highlights of the life of a rich starlet, but then I also don’t understand why so many people tune in to Crossroads or Peyton Place each week, so maybe these future TV producers are on to something.

Four Stars

Fiddler’s Green, by Richard McKenna

In an unpublished story from the late author, a group of different people are stuck in a lifeboat adrift in the Ocean. To survive, Krueger gets them to believe in another world they can access, one they call Fiddler’s Green. At first it is just them there, but soon more people begin to enter.

The longest piece in the anthology and, my word, does it need editing! There are diversions, huge sections of extraneous detail and filled with the most horrendous stereotypes. The entire thing was a real struggle to get through. It feels like a cross between A Voyage to Arcturus and Farmer’s Riverworld tales, but considerably inferior to either.

One Star

Trip, Trap, by Gene Wolfe

This is a multiple narrative piece where we see events from different letters describing the events. On the one hand we get a fantastical narrative between Garth, son of Garth, and The Protector. On the other, a more scientific narrative between Dr. Finch and Professor Beaty, both chronicling the events on planet Carson III.

Honestly, like the two prior stories by Wolfe I have read, this one failed to work for me. An interesting idea that just seemed to be stretched beyond my interest. I was regularly checking how many pages I had left.

Two Stars

The Dimple in Draco, by Philip Latham

A strange object has appeared on a photographic plate at the Institute of Cosmological Physics. Its spectrum is unlike anything else seen, exhibiting a huge Red Shift. It is up to Bill and MacCready to work out what it is. However, there is also the small matter of organizing a party…

We are told in the introduction the author is an astronomer and it shows here, although not in a good way. Most of this is just people discussing in dull technical detail the observations they have made. But, for some reason, the story also includes points that seem intended for children, such as a footnote:

Stars do not have points sticking out of them. Stars are spherical.

Maybe it works for others but this, along with the regular disparaging comments about women, put me badly off this piece.

One Star (a spherical one)

I Gave Her Sack and Sherry, by Joanna Russ

The first of two adventures from Russ following the same character, the swashbuckling Alyx. Although we are only told her name at the end of this tale, I will use it instead of “she” for the sake of ease.

"Many years ago,” Alyx is a seventeen-year-old woman married to an abusive husband who expects obedience. Sick of the beatings she receives she cuts her hair, escapes and joins the ship of Captain Blackbeard.

This is predominantly setup, consisting of situations of men underestimating Alyx and her then defeating them for their trouble. However, as entertaining as this is on its own, there are many fascinating elements Russ employs to raise this tail up.

As I noted at the start Alyx isn’t given a name until the end of the story, before being referred to as she. This really reflects the nature of this tale, with her finding herself and going through a metamorphosis on this journey.

Russ also doesn’t make use of the common tactic of trying to suggesting age by writing this in an aged manner, such as cod-Shakespearean. It instead combines an ironic narrative voice with modern speech patterns. For example:

SHE: I wouldn’t do it if you were a —
(Here follows something very unpleasant)
HE: Woman go back with those pails. Someone is coming tonight.
SHE: Who?
HE: That’s not your business
SHE: Smugglers.
HE: Go!
SHE: Go to hell.
Perhaps he was somewhat afraid of his tough little wife. She watched him from the stairs or the doorway, always with unvarying hatred; that is what comes of marrying a wild hill girl without a proper education. Beatings made her sullen. She went to the water and back, dissecting every step of the way, separating blond hair from blond hair and cracking and sorting his long limbs. She loved that.

This is very different from what we would get from Howard or Leiber, pointing to something more contemporary. A new kind of tale rather than just attempts to recreate the works of the 30s and 40s.

Four Stars

The Adventuress, by Joanna Russ

This story takes place significantly later in Alyx’s life. When she was 23, she had gone down to the city of Orudh as part of a mission to convert people to the Hill God Yp. Alyx grew disillusioned with the religion quickly, so when the mission was chased out of Orudh by the authorities, she took up as a lockpick.

Seven years later, Alyx is employed by Lady Edarra to help her escape from Orudh. Whilst originally uncertain about taking on this role, the rewards convince her, even if Alyx is unsure due to how naïve and proper Edarra is.

This represents an older and more confident Alyx, one who is experienced in the world and now able to take charge of her own destiny. Yet it does not sacrifice the stylistic elements and clever touches that made the previous installment so enjoyable.

Five Stars

The Hole on the Corner, by R. A. Lafferty

Homer Hoose comes home to his wife, but she realizes he is not the person she knows as her husband, and he proceeds to eat her. Another Homer comes home and retrieves his wife from the version that just ate her. They then need to work out why there are two different versions of himself in the same house.

In case you cannot tell, this is a darkly comic tale. Your enjoyment of it will probably depend on how much you like Lafferty’s shtick as all his usual tricks are on display. Unfortunately, it does not work for me–one for his fans I imagine.

Two Stars

The Food Farm, by Kit Reed

Nelly likes eating and enjoys being fat. Her parents want a thin daughter. Both are willing to go to extreme lengths to get what they want.

This is a delicious take on our current thinness obsessed culture. It is full of great lines providing clever commentary on people’s attitudes such as:

Her mother used to like to take the children into hotels and casinos, wearing thin daughters like a garland of jewels.

Sublime work

Five Stars

Full Sun, by Brian W. Aldiss

In a The Machine Stops style future, machines have become incredibly advanced and now take care of all human needs. People only leave their home cities for either specific reasons or if they are “abnormal”. Balank travels out with a trundler to hunt werewolves that inhabit the countryside. But after meeting a strange Timber Officer, Balank begins to wonder if the machines are the real danger to humanity.

This is more traditional Aldiss in the mode of Hothouse rather than his recent Ballard-esque Charteris tales. But that is no bad thing, it is a science fiction fantasy blend with great style and concept that showcases why he is one of the best people writing today.

Four Stars

Whither The Future?

In my previous article I asked whether these kinds of anthologies are the new magazines. I would say that whilst I do not want the magazines to completely disappear, both these show the way forward.

Last month 9% of the magazine fiction was written by women. In these anthologies it is one third. They also manage to get in a balance of new writers, old hands, hard to obtain reprints and ongoing series.

True they lack the factual articles, but can TV not provide those through programmes like Horizon and Tomorrow’s World? And is the fan community not more enriched these days by conventions and fanzines than by the letter pages of Analog?

Whilst there may be some kinks still to work out, I say “Long Live the Paperback!

Paperback covers of Orbit One New Writings in SF 9 and Pan Horror 8
Orbit, New Writings and Pan Horror, all out now in paperback!






[July 8, 1967] Family lines (August 1967 Galaxy)


by Gideon Marcus

Royal Families

The news always likes to focus on heads of state, especially when they are flashy or glamorous in some way.  From Princess Grace of Monaco to Crown Prince Akihito of Japan, these leaders are instant idols, somehow more compelling for having the reins (and reigns) of nations even though they presumably put their pants/skirts/obis on the same way as the common folk.

This week scored a triplet of spotlights.  For instance, in the island nation of Tonga, Taufaʻahau Tupou IV was crowned monarch in a ceremony that included a feast of 71,000 suckling pigs!  And that, by itself, tells you all you need to know about the current Jewish/Moslem population of Tonga…

Closer to home, El BJ, chief of the United States, has got his first grandson.  Patrick Lyndon Nugent is the newborn child of First Daughter Luci Nugent (neé Johnson).  There is no word, as yet, whether his toddler status will grant him deferment in the lastest draft lottery.

Finally, junta chairman General Nguyen Cao Ky, the flamboyant leader of South Vietnam since 1965, has decided not to run for President in the upcoming democratic (perhaps) September elections.  Premier Thiệu has been backed by the junta for the top role, instead, with Ky getting the Vice Presidential nod.  It's all a lot of musical chairs, anyway. After all, Ky has asserted that the only politician he admires is Hitler, which tells you all you need to know about the state of democracy in that country (and its current Jewish population…)

Watching Big Brother

Fred Pohl, one of the original Futurians and a pillar of the SF community, has had his hands full for nearly a decade.  After he took over the reins of Galaxy and the newly acquired IF from H. L. Gold, rather than sit on his laurels, he looked for new worlds to conquer.  Thus, Worlds of Tomorrow was launched in 1963.  But juggling three mags (plus a few reprint-only titles) was a challenging job, often resulting in uneven quality and occasionally right-out flubs.  For instance, last year's issue of Worlds of Tomorrow where the pages got all mixed up.

One would think, with WoT going out of publication, that things might be less hectic over at the Guinn Co. mags.  But, in fact, this month's issue of Galaxy is even more higgledy-piggledy, making reading a real challenge.


by Sol Dember

Which is a shame, because there's some quite good stuff in here (mixed with some mediocre stuff, to be sure).  Thankfully, you've got me to be your guide.  Just grab your compass, or you might get lost.

Hawksbill Station, by Robert Silverberg


by Virgil Finlay

One-way time travel is developed in the early 21st Century.  Since humanity is deathly afraid of creating paradoxes, the new portals are used by the totalitarian regime for just one purpose: shipping undesirables into the far past, a sort of Paleozoic Botany Bay.

Hawksbill Station is the one reserved for male subversives, established sometime in the late Cambrian (Silverberg repeatedly gives a date of two billion years ago, but of course, the Cambrian went from about 600-500 million B.C.) Our perspective is that of Barrett, the de facto head of the more than 100 settler/prisoners on the coast of what will one day be the Atlantic Ocean.  It is a community slowly decaying as its denizens age along with no greater purpose in life.  That is, until a new young convict arrives from the future, one who appears to be a government spy…

This is more of a travelogue than a story, and the ending comes on a bit abruptly.  But the characterization, the details, the setting are all so gripping that I tore through the novella in no time, despite the labyrinthine page distribution.

Four stars, and if it ever gets expanded into a novel, it could make five.

Angel, Dark Angel, by Roger Zelazny

In another future-set tale, society is maintained by a sort of corporate Angel of Death who, with the help of ten thousand teleporting assistants, brings death to citizens after they have made sufficient contribution to humanity (and are, perhaps, on the verge of being detrimental).

One noteworthy woman has cultivated the aesthetic race of spirules (depicted on the cover) as an antidote to the cold, mechanistic technology of her time.  A subordinate angel is sent to dispatch her, but things prove more complicated.

This is a middlin' Zelazny story, not an empty poetic suit like some, but not a near masterpiece like some of his other works.  Three stars.

We're Coming Through the Window, by K. M. O'donnell

Throwaway vignette about a fellow who keeps duplicating himself due to time travel and needs Fred Pohl's help to get out of it.

Cute.  Three stars.

Ginny Wrapped in the Sun, by R. A. Lafferty

Ginny seems to be a precocious four year old, but in fact, is actually just a baseline human, maturing at age 4 and going on as an upright monkey.  It's the rest of us who are evolutionary aberrations, having five times as many heartbeats that a creature our mass should have.  Inevitably, Lafferty suggests, we'll all go ape.

This tale doesn't really work, and it's a bit more impenetrable than Lafferty's usual fare.  Two stars.

For Your Information: A Pangolin Is a Pangolin, by Willy Ley

Ley's article on the strange mammal that is neither aardvark nor anteater nor armadillo is interesting, but not much more than you might get from a rather good encyclopedia entry.

Three stars.

9-9-99, by Richard Wilson

Two wizened old characters are determined to settle an old score since both have outlived their wagered death dates, the bet having been made back in the 30s.

Whether it is even possible for them to collect given the state of the Earth in the late '90s is another matter…

Good enough, I guess.  Three stars.


by Wally Wood

Travelers Guide to Megahouston, by H. H. Hollis


by Wally Wood

This is a very long, somewhat farcical account of a 21st Century evolution of the Astrodome, in which domes enclose whole cities.

Pretty dull stuff.  Two stars.

The Being in the Tank, by Theodore L. Thomas

An alien being materializes in the heart of a hellish hydrazine factory and demands to speak to the President.  But is he the real deal?

Forgettable, but inoffensive.  A low three stars.

Hide and Seek, by Linda Marlowe

A childhood game is adapted into a method of population control.  It has shock value, but little else.

Two stars.

The Great Stupids, by Miriam Allen deFord

Mad scientist makes everyone under 50 a mental moron, all in service of a rather lame joke at the end.  DeFord was once one of the stars of the genre, but her light has waned over the years.  Here's hoping she's a Cepheid variable and not a dying dwarf.

To Outlive Eternity (Part 2 of 2), by Poul Anderson


by Jack Gaughan

It is fitting that the final long piece of the issue is a sort of mirror image of Silverberg's novella in terms of strengths and weaknesses.  As we read in last month's installment, the ramscoop colony ship Leonora Christine suffered damage to its decelerators while traveling at near light speed on the way to Beta Virginis.  The solution: to accelerate to terrific velocities instead, plunging through the heart of the galaxy and out into the comparative emptiness of intergalactic space where repairs might be effected.

In this half, event after event conspires to force the Christine to travel ever faster and faster, ultimately spanning the lifespan of the universe and beyond in a matter of months.  The story is told as a series of problem-solving conversations spread out over the weeks, and each character largely exists solely to have these conversations.  Except for the women, of course, who are almost universally hysterics or hangers-on…except for the First Officer who ultimately whores herself out for the good of the crew.

In short, the setup and ideas are really neat, but its a plot outline, not a novel.  And where Poul Anderson does try to characterize, it's with quick stereotypes, and usually not agreeable ones.  As for setting, there really isn't one.  The crew of the Christine might as well be floating heads in blank spaces for all we really get to experience the ship.

Readable, but badly flawed.  Three stars.

Matrix Goose, by Jack Sharkey

Last up, some very familiar nursery rhymes as they might be rendered by robots–after the demise of humanity.  It's cute.  Three stars.


Perhaps my favorite example, art by Gray Morrow

Cross-eyed Kin

And so, Galaxy ends up a largely enjoyable, but unremarkable read — just under 3 stars in ranking.  Perhaps, with the demise of Worlds of Tomorrow further in the rear-view mirror, Pohl will be able to concentrate on (and concentrate the best stories into) his remaining mags.

On the other hand, perhaps he hasn't learned his lesson.  He's got a new magazine is coming out next month…





[May 12, 1967] There and Back Again (June 1967 Galaxy)


by Gideon Marcus

Living in the Past


Dancing on the main stage

The Renaissance Pleasure Faire has really taken off since it first opened in 1963.  Sort of a reaction to modern society, it is several acres of the 16th Century surrounded by semi-arid modern Southern California.  And as a refuge from the horrors of today (and sanitized to be free of the horrors of yesterday), it has become a prime sanctuary for hippies and other counter-culture freaks to enjoy some solace.


A typical scene–we pretend the "mundanes" aren't there…

And the Journey is no exception!


Iacobus of Constantinople (left) confers with Lord Sir Basil, Count of Argent (me!)


Lorelei has found her chosen weapon.


Captain Clara Hawkins (time traveling from the 17th Century) and Lorelei ride unicorns.


Good writers don't grow on trees, but some, like Elijah, play in them.


The whole gang.  Note associates Elijah (purple, third from left), Joe (center, back), Abby (gold, center front), Lorelei (to her right), and Tam (second from right).

Living in the Future

The pages of this month's Galaxy also offer an escape, and for the most part, a pleasant one!


by Gray Morrow

To Outlive Eternity (pt 1 of 2), by Poul Anderson

Things open with a literal bang.  The Leonora Christine, zooming through space at relativistic velocities on a mission of colonization, rams into a small nebula at near light speed.  Though the 50 or so crew and scientists are unhurt, the ship has lost its ability to decelerate.  It is now doomed to travel through the galaxy and beyond, its tau (or time) compression factor ever increasing, such that the entire life of the universe might pass in a lifetime.

Earth is now long in the past; can the Leonora Christine's complement effect repairs such that they can at least someday cease being a cosmic Flying Dutchman?


by Jack Gaughan

Poul Anderson, when he's got his blood high, fuses science and character better than most (when he's in it for the paycheck, he gets the science right, but the rest is dull as dishwater).  The near-light Bussard ramjet concept was explored recently in Niven's The Ethics of Madness, but this gripping tale promises to reward the reader more fully.

Four stars.

Mirror of Ice, by Gary Wright

Gary must have recently watched Grand Prix, for his tale of high-speed bobsledding of the future, with its 10% fatality rate per race, strongly evokes that vivid movie.  Or the author is just a big racing fanatic.  After all, such was the topic of his last story.

Anyway, perfectly acceptable, if not too memorable; I wonder if he'd originally intended this for Playboy…or Sports Illustrated!

Three stars.

Polity and Custom of the Camiroi, by R. A. Lafferty

A three-person anthropological team investigates the highly libertarian planet of Camiroi.  Society there is highly advanced, seemingly utopian, and utterly decentralized.  Sounds like a Heinleinesque paradise.  However, there are indications that the Terrans are being put on, mostly in an attempt to just get them to leave.

The result is something like what might have happened if Cordwainer Smith and Robert Sheckley had a baby.  That'd be one weird tot…but an interesting one.

Four stars.

The Man Who Loved the Faioli, by Roger Zelazny

The Faioli are ethereal beauties who appear in a man's (or a woman's?) last month of life.  Or perhaps they are the cause of impending demise.  In any event, they pay for the quick mortality with the most pleasant company imaginable, perhaps feeding on the emotional feedback.

Here is the tale of a man living-in-death (or dead in living?) who romances a Faioli and remains to tell about it.

Zelazny is capable of beautiful, effective prose, but sometimes, it seems he just waxes purple and hopes his readers can't tell the difference.  This one feels like the latter.

Three stars.

For Your Information: Another Look at Atlantis, by Willy Ley

Mr. Ley, Galaxy's science columnist, is back to form with this quite interesting article on all we know for certain (and it's not much!) about the mythical continent of Atlantis.  Worth a read.

Four stars.

Spare That Tree, by C. C. MacApp


by Dennis M. Smith

Inspector Kruger of the Interstellar Division is back (we first saw him in the January issue of IF).  This time, he's on the trail of a kidnapped tree, prized possession of an Emperor whom the galactic federation wishes to keep on the good side.

David observed that Laumer or Goulart could do a better job with these tales, and they are, indeed, the authors I was reminded of while reading this piece.  It starts out genuinely interesting and funny, but the last half meanders into a whimper.

A high two (or a low three, depending on your mood).

Howling Day, by Jim Harmon

In this epistolary, an agent keeps sending a spec script to the wrong kinds of publishing houses.  They all appreciate the quality of the work, but it's not quite right for what they put out.  Which makes sense–turns out it's not a spec script at all…

I found this one a bit tedious and old-fashioned.  Two stars.

The Adults, by Larry Niven


by Virgil Finlay

From the center of the galaxy comes Phthsspok, a super-intelligent, highly determined alien looking for a long lost colony.  He has reason to believe it is Earth…or was, hundreds of thousands of years ago.  Phthsspok is a Protector, with armored hide and hyper-reflexes.  Utterly beyond human capabilities.

Except, when Phthsspok runs across and kidnaps Jack Brennan, a Belter in his middle-40s, the connection between Protectors and humanity turns out to be closer than anyone expected.

Set in the same time and setting as World of Ptavvs, and featuring Lucas Garner and Lit Schaeffer from that book, The Adults is a fascinating read.  And it offers the compelling question: would you trade your sex and your outward humanity at age 45 for the privilege of immortality and extreme intellect?

Forty-four year olds in the audience, are you reading?

Four stars.

Alien's Bequest, by Charles V. De Vet

Wrapping things up, we have a new twist on The Puppet Masters.  It's mildly intriguing, and I am always happy to see De Vet's name, but ultimately, the story doesn't quite go anywhere.

Three stars.

Return to Reality

What a nice weekend that was!  First centuries past, then centuries to come.  I'm not sure I'm ready to face Vietnam, another summer of protests, or a second season of The Invaders.

Oh look!  The June issuse of Fantasy and Science Fiction has arrived.  Just in time…