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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[October 6, 1966] One Trek, neat (The Naked Time)

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by Erica Frank

We return to our weekly adventures aboard the Enterprise, in the first episode that does not feature the dangers of psychic powers gone mad. We're still dealing with madness, of a sort — "The Naked Time" features people who have lost their self-control and run wild throughout the ship, endangering everyone on board.

The episode began with a trip to a planet on the verge of destruction; the Enterprise planned to record the event, collecting rare scientific data while avoiding being caught in its implosion. When they arrived, they found the on-planet base crew dead of mysterious causes. One bright fellow – we'll call him "Ensign Stupid" – takes off his gloves to scratch his nose while poking around the base, and he gets a scratch.


Ensign Stupid in his very fashionable orange-and-silver safety gear, completely undermining whatever protection it offered.

He catches a mysterious alien disease that eventually kills him, but first he manages to share it with several other crew members. One of them, Riley, starts singing old Irish ballads, takes over the engineering department, and locks the captain out of both control and communications. This would be funny if the ship weren't on a deadline: if the ship doesn't leave orbit before the implosion, the Enterprise will become part of the rubble.

Oh, and while that's going on, the disease is spreading: we see wild swashbuckling from Sulu, a heartfelt confession of love from Nurse Chapel, a tearful breakdown from the normally stoic Spock, and various drunken-seeming shenanigans from random crewmembers.


Nurse Chapel declares her love for Spock while clutching his hands in hers.

By the time the Captain regains control of the ship, it's too late for a safe departure; Riley's turned the warp engines completely off and they need to warm up. Scotty, the chief engineer, warns him: "I can't change the laws of physics. We've got to have thirty minutes." (They have eight minutes.) But Kirk has an idea: maybe they can jump-start them using antimatter… but for that, they need Spock sober enough to run the calculations for them.

In the end, Dr. McCoy figures out the problem – something on the planet converts water to "a complex chain of molecules" that acts like alcohol; it's transmitted through sweat. He injects people with a cure in time for Spock to manage the math for the risky maneuver; somehow, Kirk is the only person whose shirt gets torn during the vaccination.


Is this how vaccines are normally administered in the future? Or does the Federation just issue Kirk shirts with tear-away sleeves?

By the end of the episode:

We all hated Riley and his singing.
We all cheered for shirtless Sulu, even if he was being disruptive.
We were all fascinated by Spock's emotional outburst.

As usual, some details needed a bit of hand-waving to accept, but I will forgive quite a bit of "instant alien disease" and "having to remind security not to use lethal force on their crewmate" if it means I get to see dashing young men leap around with swords and without shirts.

I may start keeping a tally. Shirtless men in this episode: 1.25 (counting Kirk's torn shirt).

Five stars: the story moved fast and kept me engaged. I only noticed flaws later as I was trying to write up notes about it.

A Shocking Scene


by Janice L. Newman

This week’s episode was a departure, not only from the kinds of episodes we’ve seen from Star Trek so far, but from the kind of science fiction we’ve seen on television in general. There was no monster to fight, no human with special powers bent on taking over, no alien menace. The enemy, such as it was, came from within. (Which, coincidentally enough, sounds like next week’s episode title.)

A lot of interesting and character-revealing things happened during the show, but one moment stands out in my memory with a sharp clarity: the moment when science officer Mr. Spock, under the influence of a virus, breaks down. Although we don’t know Mr. Spock very well as a character yet, the scene was incredibly powerful. When was the last time you saw a man cry in a movie or TV show? I’m not talking about camera-friendly ‘manly’ tears when a comrade dies in a war flick, or the sniveling of a villain. I’m talking about a main character sitting down and sobbing, all while desperately trying not to.

Mr. Spock, as we learned this episode, is a half-human, half-alien person who fits into neither culture and has had to spend his whole life suppressing his emotions. He speaks of how he couldn’t tell his mother that he loved her, of his shame at his inability to control his feelings.

And yet, is this so very alien? Men are not supposed to cry, after all. Which was why it was so shocking to see Leonard Nimoy sit down and bawl onscreen, made even more compelling by his obvious struggle for control. Everyone has had that moment when they’re fighting back tears. Ironically, the ‘half-alien’ felt the most relatable and human of everyone in the episode.

It looks like I have a new favorite character. I’m looking forward to seeing more of “Mr. Spock” in future episodes.

Four and a half stars.

The Crew Stripped Bare

by Robin Rose Graves

This episode was an emotional whirlwind. I couldn’t help but laugh as Sulu rampaged the halls, sword in hand (as fun to watch as I imagine the actor had while filming it), and be irritated by Mr. Riley’s incessant singing.

Yet these moments are juxtaposed with two exceptionally serious and jarring scenes. Lt. Tormolen, the first to contract the disease, has a breakdown in which he questions humanity’s presence in space – wondering if they are doing more bad than good – quickly spiraling into taking his own life. This scene is emotionally impactful, despite the audience’s lack of familiarity with this character (though it seems to be a common pattern, introducing a new character who dies that episode) and raises a question I wish the episode, or series overall, took time to explore:

I am in favor of scientific discovery and am thrilled by the space travel depicted in the show. Yet I can’t help but question the consequences of such a journey. While Tormolen focused mostly on its impact on humanity, I wonder about the effect on alien lifeforms. Could our common cold be potentially lethal to other species? What if we accidentally introduce an invasive species on an alien world, dramatically changing their climate and causing it to be uninhabitable for its native species? Beyond physical issues, there's the possibility of destroying an alien culture just by contacting it.

But I digress.

It’s Spock’s breakdown that stood out most about this episode and led to significant revelations about his character. He’s half-human! Up until this point, Spock’s character has been entirely defined by his alien biology. As exemplified in the episode, during a medical exam he assures the doctor that the bizarre readings are perfectly normal for his species (though you’d hope medical staff on a ship like this would be well versed in the alien biology of its occupants). While some answers are given, more questions arise. Are interspecies relationships common? And judging by Spock’s revealed shame about his mixed identity, is Spock a Vulcan outcast? That would explain how he is the only Vulcan (and alien, for that matter) among a crew of all humans.

Despite how much I enjoyed this episode I can’t help but think it came too early in the season. This episode has grand revelations for characters we are meeting for the first time (i.e. Sulu, Scott, Chapel…even Tormolen). The episode would have been more impactful had we had a chance to know these characters before their deep secrets were revealed. Spock’s breakdown would have been all the more moving had we had more than three episodes with his character beforehand.

This episode would have been the perfect season finale, rewarding long time viewers with new details about the characters they’ve come to love and setting up promising new plots to explore within the next season. Even the unexpected (to the crew and viewers alike) time jump suggested an ending. It left me with a sense of peace, the opportunity for much needed healing after a particularly trying adventure and emotions rubbed raw. I have to wonder if this episode was moved up in the schedule for some reason.

Four stars…though easily could have been five.

Questioning Boldly Going


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

I'd like to expand on an excellent point Robin brings up. Zoom in with me for a moment on just one line from this moving episode:

Lt. Tormolen: We bring pain and trouble with us, leave men and women stuck out on freezing planets until they die. What are we doing out here in space? Good? What good? We're polluting it, destroying it. We've got no business being out here. No business.

Lt. Tormolen’s monologue begs us to question the underpinnings of the Federation. We do not currently know if his nihilistic view of space exploration is accurate, though my optimistic heart hopes it is not. But his focus on the evils of expansionism felt particularly poignant to me today as I read of Botswana declaring independence. Last week, that hilly country joined 28 other nations who have declared themselves independent from the United Kingdom since the end of the Second World War. (Lest my friends across the pond complain that I am picking on them, below are the names of each imperial power, and the number of countries who have declared independence from them since September 2, 1945: France (26), Belgium (3), Japan (2), Italy (2), Spain (1), New Zealand (1), Malaysia (1), Saudi Arabia (1), and the Netherlands (1)).


Independence ceremony for Botswana

Were there people on Psi 2000 who could have declared independence from the Federation? Did they survive great wars too, before succumbing to frost and madness? Captain Kirk calls Psi 2000 “a wasteland” and perhaps the worlds in the universe of Star Trek are often barren of locally-evolved cultures.

I hope not. I loved watching Captain Kirk treat with the Thasians as equals in Charlie X and like other reviewers, was deeply affected by the half-Vulcan Commander Spock’s breakdown. The best moments of Star Trek so far have been when the crew strives to understand the vast diversity of the universe around them using what academics might call “cultural relativism” and I might call “voracious curiosity.”

Or, to quote Nigerian author Chinua Achebe’s powerful anti-colonial novel Things Fall Apart (1958):

“The world has no end, and what is good among one people is an abomination with others.”

I hope that, in Star Trek the worlds will have no end, and we will continue to explore both the stars and our reasons for reaching for them.

Five stars.

Score One for Star Trek


by Gideon Marcus

The latest Star Trek adventure takes us where some men have been before — the crew has settled into a consistent ensemble (though the second pilot, "Where No Man has Gone Before", was shown last week and must have been bewildering to folks tuning in); the fine director of "The Man Trap", Marc Daniels, returned as well.

But we got to see new sides of many characters, particularly Spock and Sulu, to a lesser degree Kirk. We were introduced to Nurse Chapel, who has an implied depth to her history that suggests this is not her first filmed episode even if it is her first appearance.

There are pacing issues.  I felt the second half of the episode was more riveting than the first.  There were scientific issues, particularly the collapsing planet.  The casual introduction of time travel was shocking — is Star Trek about to become Time Tunnel?


"My chronometer…it's running…backward!"

A few things stood out to me as truly superlative, though.  Janice mentioned Nimoy's tour de force portraying Spock's breakdown (which Robin notes came a little too early in the season for full impact).  What thoroughly impressed me was the scoring for the episode: The Irish-tinged phrases for Riley.  The "disease theme", punctuated with snake rattles that indicated transmission.  The entire suite from when Kirk reenters the bridge at the end, all the way to the end of the episode.  I wish I'd taped it on reel-to-reel for later listening as I have with the music from Secret Agent.  I'll have to do that during the summer reruns.  Or perhaps they'll release a soundtrack album a la Victory at Sea.

I liked that all of the bridge crew were cross-trained.  Both Uhura and Rand took the important navigation and helm stations, reinforcing that women are not just auxiliary crew in the future, but full-braid officers.  I wonder if we'll see female ship captains in future episodes.

And it's a small thing, but I really appreciated the exchange between Kirk and Uhura when, tempers frayed, they snap at one another.  Kirk then apologizes, and Uhura smiles in forgiveness.  It was a very human, very professional interaction.

Four stars.

(P.S. Has anyone else noticed that one of the themes in this episode's soundtrack sounds a lot like a common refrain in Twelve O' Clock High? I think I heard it in "The Cage" as well.)

(Join us tonight at 8:30 PM (Pacific AND Eastern — two showings) for the next episode of Star Trek!)

Here's the invitation!



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[September 20, 1966] In the hands of an adolescent (Star Trek's "Charlie X")

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A New Tradition


by Janice L. Newman

It’s official, we now have a “Star Trek” night at our house each week, when we gather our friends and watch the latest episode. Though we’ve only watched two episodes so far, the show is off to an interesting start! This week we saw “Charlie X”, which had thematic similarities to both of the pilots we saw at Tricon.

The Enterprise has picked up a refugee, seventeen-year-old Charlie, who is the only survivor of a colony that died years ago. He was found by another ship, Antares, whose crew is only too happy to be rid of him.

There’s immediately something fishy about the boy. This is emphasized by strong musical cues, which are nicely integrated into the score. Since I watched “The Cage” (the first pilot) only a couple of weeks ago, I wondered at first whether the Antares crew were actually aliens in disguise, or an illusion.

The boy is extremely awkward in his interactions. He’s fascinated by Yeoman Janice Rand, the first ‘girl’ he’s ever met, and follows Captain Kirk around like a lost puppy. No one seems to know quite what to do with him, and I felt bad for the kid at first.

However, strange things start happening aboard the ship, initially benign, or at least not damaging long-term. Charlie produces a ‘gift’ for Yeoman Rand and won’t say how he obtained it, even though she notes that there shouldn’t have been any in the ship’s stores. All of the synthetic meatloaf in the ship’s ovens are turned into cooked real turkey. Uhura temporarily loses her voice.

It’s clear to the viewer from the beginning that Charlie is making these strange things happen, but it’s not until he begins to take far more sinister actions that the crew become suspicious. The Antares attempts to contact the Enterprise at extreme range, saying that they need to warn them, but they’re cut off when their ship explodes without warning. Finally, Charlie makes a crewman disappear directly in front of Captain Kirk.

The entire story shifts at this point, and Charlie goes from being sympathetic to terrifying. He’s immature and impulsive, greedy and lonely. He’s got the power of a god and the conscience of a small child. He goes after Janice Rand, coming into her quarters and offering her a flower. She firmly and repeatedly tells him, “No,” but he continues to press his attentions on her until the Captain and Mr. Spock show up to help. When he casually tosses them aside, Yeoman Rand slaps him – so he makes her disappear, too.

There are echoes of “Where No Man” in this plot: a human obtains absolute power, which corrupts absolutely. It’s also reminiscent of the Twilight Zone episode, "It's a good life", which similarly features an omnipotent, frightening child. The ending to "Charlie", however, is unexpected. The aliens who gave Charlie the power in the first place, allowing him to survive in the lost colony, return to take him back. Charlie begs the humans to allow him to stay, saying he’ll be alone with aliens who cannot touch him and who cannot love.

This is an interesting turnabout; the audience is once again compelled to sympathize with Charlie. Despite all the terrible things he’s done, the viewer can’t help but feel sorry for the young man, trapped all alone with aliens. His situation is an interesting parallel to Vina’s in “The Cage”, but Vina stays behind by choice, and she is offered a rich fantasy life by the Talosians, whereas Charlie wants nothing more than to escape, and despite his powers, is apparently offered a sterile and empty life by his alien jailors. The nuanced story is far more sophisticated than typical television sci-fi fare.

However, there were a few elements that I felt rang false.  Would Captain Kirk really be so awkward talking about ‘the birds and the bees’ with a teenager? Would Doctor McCoy really be so resistant to doing the same? This is the future, for heaven’s sake, and Doctor McCoy is a doctor. It felt like character and realism was sacrificed for cheap laughs.

On the other hand, I absolutely loved the way Charlie’s interactions with Yeoman Rand were handled. Charlie comes on strong and is increasingly pushy with Rand throughout the story. It’s a familiar kind of interaction in media. We often see a man persist in his attentions to a woman who resists at first but eventually gives in and falls in love with him. What made this story unusual was that his actions are never framed as being in any way romantic, or even acceptable. Rand is supported by the Captain himself, and never, ever told that she’s being hysterical or overreacting. When Charlie presses her, she stands firm, repeatedly telling him in no uncertain terms, “no!” and “get out of my room, I can’t make it any clearer than that!”

I appreciated how strong she was, and that Charlie’s actions were portrayed as creepy, unwanted, and wrong. It’s different from a lot of what I grew up with, and makes me wonder about the gender of the script writer, a mysterious “D.C. Fontana”.

Three stars.

A faltering step


by Gideon Marcus

Together with "The Man Trap", we are starting to get the first real understanding of the characters who inhabit the Enterprise.  Dr. McCoy is back, marking the first time the ship's doctor role has been the same character.  Moreover, he interacts substantially not only with Kirk, with whom he has a friendly, if perhaps arms length, relationship, but also Mr. Spock.  Their bickering on the bridge presages what could be a fun running bit, where the science officer approaches things logically in contrast to the more emotional doctor.

On the other hand, Spock displays genuine emotion, both in his bashful smiles and irritation when performing with Lt. Uhura in the lounge (a nice scene — Nichelle Nichols has a lovely voice!), and also when playing chess with Captain Kirk and Charlie.  This is the second episode that we have seen Spock and Kirk matching wits over the 3D version of the game of kings.  I expect this is a motif we'll see more of.

While I enjoyed this outing, I found its execution more pedestrian than that of "The Man Trap".  As fellow traveler Ginevra noted in our after-watch kibbitz, the use of camera pans, cuts, and focus are less adroit.  The differently colored corridors we saw in "The Man Trap" have been replaced with ones of uniform reddish hue.  It leaves the impression of a cheaper, less interesting show.  Not to the degree of the second pilot (which will be aired next week), but it's definitely noticeable.

If I had to pick a stand-out scene, it is when Charlie zaps a crewman into oblivion, particularly Kirk's reaction thereto.  You can see the character fitting all the pieces together about Charlie in stunning realization.  I also appreciated Kirk's shyness in talking about women, and the relation of men thereto.  He was established in the second pilot as "a stack of books with legs", and I appreciate a leading man who is not a ladies' man.

Perhaps that role will be taken up by Mr. Spock. Lord knows a certain communications officer seems to fancy him…

Three stars.

What makes Charlie X so frightening?


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

With last year’s founding of The Autism Society, many people are reconsidering the roles that disabled people can access in our shared world. Science fiction is an excellent place to stretch our imaginations and explore new worlds and futures.

In this week’s Star Trek episode, "Charlie X" Robert Walker plays the titular 17-year-old, progressing from awkwardness to outright violence; viewers moved with him from discomfort to horror to pathos. What made us react so strongly to Charlie? Charlie speaks too quickly or too slowly; interrupts Captain Kirk; stands too close; touches people in unexpected ways; has exaggerated expressions or a flat affect; makes uneven eye-contact; has sudden and overwhelming emotions he struggles to express in ways the crew can grok.

In the show, this is attributed to Charlie’s lack of socialization and education. But Charlie isn’t an illiterate boy; he’s a fictional character on TV, a representation of the actor, writer, director, and viewers' ideas of a monster, drawn from the shared fears of our society. The trouble is, not all of us fear the same monsters. In the world I live in, Charlie’s mannerisms reminded me of my family members who are autistic, who face violence from people taught to be afraid of them. Until he started hurting people, Charlie’s behaviors didn’t disturb me, but I could tell the actor and writer wanted them to.

This disconnect is what made the end of the episode so satisfying to me. My heart began to race in the final scene when first Lieutenant Uhura, then Captain Kirk, then the re-materialized Yeoman Rand pushed back against the Thasian leader. Fought to protect Charlie. Captain Kirk’s line, “The boy belongs with his own kind,” felt profound.

As readers know, the 1964 Civil Rights Act did not include protections for disabled people. In the future, perhaps another law will. Watching shows like Star Trek requires us to flex the same science fictional muscles that activists use to imagine new ways for our real world to be. Perhaps, to viewers in the future, Charlie’s mannerisms won’t evoke horror, but will be just one more way of being one of our own kind.

Three stars.

Of Gods and Magic

by Robin Rose Graves

When it comes to Sci-Fi I am easy going on believability. Give me a simple (though sometimes far fetched) explanation for how or why something works and I’ll play along. But I am a stickler when it comes to “magic” (in Clarke's sense of the word). If I don't know how it works, I at least want to know its extent and cost.

My biggest problem with the episode is that Charlie’s powers are never defined in either category. Charlie is seen doing everything from procuring an object from thin air, to aging a character within seconds. Many of his abilities appear to be unrelated, yet exceptionally unlimited.

I almost wish Charlie’s powers had been to manipulate perception, like the alien in “The Cage.” This would have explained the variety of tricks Charlie executes during the episode: silencing Uhara, making crew members disappear – none of these things are really gone, just no longer perceivable under Charlie’s illusion. Even the change of beef to turkey could have been a simple trick of the senses.

Then again, there is a cost to Charlie's use of his "magic." It is, of course, that Charlie can never relate to other humans, and as a result, is exiled to emotional prison, living out his days with the Thasians. And while this isn't the kind of "cost" I was describing above, it does make for a compelling — and ultimately unsatisfying — episode.

Does he deserve to be condemned? I am hesitant to convict a character like Charlie of such a fate. After all, I believe his corruption was not from his powers alone. He endured some fifteen years of solitude. It is obvious Charlie lacks the socialization he needed during his formative years. I think in different circumstances, Charlie could have been more empathic, more willing to learn cooperation and patience in exchange for the social interaction and praise he so clearly desires. I think under proper care he could have been rehabilitated. Rather than thrown onto a large ship of strangers, better had he been given one on one time with a professional who could teach him what to expect once reintroduced to society. The Enterprise could really use a ship's psychologist. Failing that, Bones should have taken on the job.

While I’m happy the solution wasn’t to kill Charlie off, as the conclusion has been for menaces in episodes prior, I felt that Charlie was unjustifiably written off. It makes me wonder, what is the point of this episode? Charlie shows no character development or revelations. The Captain and crew feel badly for Charlie, but will they learn from their missteps that led to the crisis in the first place? I think this idea was ripe with potential left unexplored.

Three stars.

The Silent Treatment


by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)

Between the strange glares, close-ups, and whining monologues, we have the smatterings of a story about an awkward teenager playing grab-ass on the starship Enterprise. Much like “Where No Man” we’re often left staring at the characters staring at other characters waiting for someone to say something. Anything. Silence can be powerful, but sometimes silence is just silence. If I had wanted to watch a silent film, I would have chosen something a little more exciting.

Charlie really had his eyes set on Yeoman Rand, which is understandable. Any man with a good pair of eyes would, but she made it abundantly clear early on that she wasn’t as interested in Charlie as he was in her. The episode made sure to portray his advances as juvenile and unwelcome, which is a refreshing take on the overly aggressive pursuer getting the girl cliché. I appreciate seeing the consequences when “no” isn’t taken seriously. Charlie had powers that allowed him to do as he pleased, but it just goes to show that power isn’t everything.

I can appreciate that there was a deeper story here, but it wasn’t very well executed. I might have been sympathetic if Charlie was more likeable, but he just wasn’t. Nobody made an effort to improve Charlie’s experience in this episode. Not even the writers.

Two stars

From the Young Traveler


by Lorelei Marcus

"Charlie X" had an interesting premise that didn't quite match its execution. Charlie is meant to be a boy who has been raised in a completely alien context, his only reference to humanity being records and memory tapes. Yet aboard the Enterprise, his alienness is manifested in, at most, a lack of maturity and recognition of social cues. The difference should have been far more severe.

I believe the two main elements of "Charlie X" could have been better served as two different stories. One would be about an alien-raised human learning to assimilate with humanity. The other about an adolescent with ESP and the problems he causes.

We essentially got the second story, which after the mismatched premise, I have to admit was executed fairly well.  Three stars.

Space Fashion


by Erica Frank

Obviously the most powerful organization in the future depicted in Star Trek is the fashion union. Changing starship uniforms every few weeks takes a lot of political swing!

Kirk appears in three different types of uniform in this episode: his command outfit, which he wears on the bridge, a gold shirt that looks more like what the other officers are wearing, and an exercise outfit that consists of tight red pants and little else.


Kirk's very fashionable command jacket, which looks easy to remove. This seems to be an important trait for the captain.

When he goes to teach Charlie the basics of combat, Charlie wears a red gi top (which must be standard sports outfit, since it's got the Federation patch near the shoulder), and Kirk wears… well…


Sulu(?) and another man are battling behind them with some kind of padded pole weapons.

That's certainly an interesting choice. It almost makes up for this being the fourth episode (out of four) with dangerous psychic powers.

Things I didn't like about this episode: Destructive mental powers (again). The crew leaving a rescued teenager to wander around the ship unescorted. Not assigning the teenager a guide, mentor, or other assistant to adapt to life in human society.

The ending felt a bit rushed; I'd like to see the Enterprise (or some other ship) visit the area again, and volunteer someone to live wherever Charlie's stuck with the aliens. Let them give another human — an adult — the same powers, and see if that person can teach Charlie how to live among humans without resorting to murder when his whims are thwarted.

Things I did like: The musical interlude was lovely; I enjoyed Mister Spock's Vulcan instrument and Uhura's spontaneous singing. Also, Charlie was sympathetic: we could feel his confusion and understand his petulance. The story made sense, even if I sometimes wanted to throttle the captain for not assigning someone to pay attention to Charlie sooner. Also, I will forgive quite a few plot sins if it means I get to see half-naked men tumbling around the screen on prime-time television. 4 stars.

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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[August 18th, 1966] Reawakening the Inner Child (Black and Blue Magic)

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by Robin Rose Graves

When my young niece came to visit last month, I immediately ran to my bookshelf, perusing some browning pages I’ve kept since childhood. Stories that had fed my growing imagination that I longed to pass along to my niece. My excitement was quickly doused. Of the titles I picked, none were suitable for a young girl of eight years old. I’m afraid I am terribly out of touch with the milestones of childhood, having no kids of my own, nor plans to have any. Perhaps I needed to forget about the outdated stories I’ve loved and turn my attention to more modern titles.

Zilpha Keatley Snyder is a name that has recently come to my attention. While I missed out on her first two publications, Season of Ponies and The Velvet Room, I decided to give her most recent book, Black and Blue Magic, a chance. The clincher was that the main character is named Harry Houdini Marco.

As a child I gobbled up any sort of book about Harry Houdini. Magicians were the closest thing to actual magic and perhaps a small part of me believed if I mastered the art, I would become magical. However, my plans were foiled by my awkward co-ordination and fear of public speaking. The former, the main character and I have in common. Hence the title: “Black and Blue Magic.”

Harry Houdini, the Magician…not our child protagonist

Harry Houdini Marco was named thus by his talented magician father, who hoped young Harry would grow up to be the greatest magician of all time. What added to his high expectations was a prediction that Harry would possess a most unique type of magic — something Harry’s dad interpreted as proof that his wish would come true.

Now that his father has passed, Harry lives with his mother in a boarding house she runs. He still feels pressure to measure up to his dad’s dreams for him, but Harry has given up on trying to learn magic. As summer starts, he laments over how boring it will be with his best friend moving to another neighborhood and his Mom’s plans to treat them to a vacation having been foiled by a tenant moving out. More than anything, Harry wants his mom to find love and remarry, so she won't have to work so hard. He also dreams of leaving San Francisco behind and living on a farm.

Harry’s luck changes when he encounters a strange and clumsy man. After the man accidentally leaves his suitcase behind, Harry carries the case back to him and offers him lodging at the boarding house.

Days later, Harry is surprised to find the man has accepted his invitation. After a few nights of spying on him, Harry discovers Mr. Mazeeck is more than just a salesman — he’s also a once powerful, now disgraced and cursed wizard who sells magical items. After all the help Harry has given Mr. Mazeeck, the wizard thanks him by giving Harry an item from his suitcase — a small potion that when applied to his back and the magic words are uttered, allows Harry to sprout wings.

Just because Harry has wings doesn't mean he's any less clumsy

With his newfound magic, Harry spends every night of summer flying around San Francisco. He has misadventures each night such as landing in the monkey exhibit at the zoo only to be chased away by the animals, being mistaken as an angel by a drunkard, and stepping in to stop the corner store from being robbed. Without meaning to, Harry impacts the lives around him for the better. After sighting Harry, the drunkard quits drinking, and a grouchy neighbor turns kind after thinking an angel has been landing on her roof.

But as summer nears its end, Harry has yet to figure out how to set his mom up with one of the kindly residents. And his potion is about to run out…

Harry as a character is extremely likeable. He is average and unremarkable, yet incredibly altruistic with his newfound magic. Harry never passes up the opportunity to help another out. Like ripples, his actions unintentionally bring good to those around him.

While an upstanding example of a kid, he does not come across as unrealistic. He chases what he finds fun and has a sense of humor, which he shares with both his mom and the man he wants her to marry. Scenes between the two, and later, the three of them are warm and charming. The story truly made me believe that Harry loves his mom and wants what’s best for her — his hope that she can marry and no longer have to work the boarding house surpasses his desire to leave the city.

This book has the excellent message that our actions, what we do for those around us, matter. There is just a touch of magic added to give the story wonder; the desire to fly is just as human a quality as loving and helping one another.

Zilpha Keatley Snyder

While speeding through the book in two days, I can imagine this will be a book to be read one chapter a night to children. Each chapter is a small adventure. Though they sometimes leave off on a cliffhanger, these are quickly resolved within the first lines of the next chapter, defusing the tension. For example, one chapter ends with Mr. Mazeeck telling Harry that next time he’ll be in the city, Harry will be dead. This raised many exciting questions in my mind. Is this a warning that disaster is coming for San Francisco? Does Harry have an enemy that will soon emerge? Then I turned the page to the next chapter, and Mr. Mazeeck explains that this is because he’ll next visit San Francisco in 200 years. Being that Mr. Mazeeck is a wizard with a longer lifespan, he’ll simply outlive Harry by the next time he’ll visit. It's a simple explanation that quickly ruins any sort of tension created in the chapter before.

I understand, to some extent, why it’s written this way. In-between the question being raised and the answer quickly given, my head swam with imagination. It transported me back to my childhood, when ending the night on a cliffhanger chapter would fill me with wonder as I churned over ideas in my mind of where the story would go next, only too eager for the next night to read more. Such things incite imagination, one of the purposes of reading as a child. I did find it to be a let down with this book when the actual answer was rather bland compared to my own assumptions.

Nevertheless, it’s the ending that brought the book together for me. It is as sweet and full of wonder as the rest of the book, and brings several plot points spread throughout to a close in a more than satisfying way. Black and Blue Magic left me feeling happy and spoke to the inner child. I think it will be a more than suitable read for my niece, as well as something that will hold the test of time.

4 out of 5 stars.




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Movies

[July 26, 1966] Along for the Ride ( This Island Earth)

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by Robin Rose Graves

Sunday night and nowhere to go with heavy rains keeping me housebound. Luckily, I was in good company, my equally single bosom friend warming the couch besides me. We split a bottle of wine as the tube lazily played before us. We weren't paying the screen much attention until red credits superimposed over a starry background displayed the title of the rerun movie of the night.

This Island Earth originally showed in theatres in 1955. Being that I was only sixteen at the time and hadn’t quite yet discovered my passion for science fiction I missed my opportunity to view it then. Later is better than never, right? I knew nothing of what awaited; I’ve yet to read the book that inspired the film and our TV guide remained folded and ignored on the coffee table. The title and design of the opening credits suggested it was a science fiction film, though of what type, I did not know. We wished to let the story sweep us away with no hint of what was to come – which meant I went in with no pre-formed assumptions of the movie.

The first hint of any unusual activity occurs right off the bat, when main character Dr. Cal Meacham’s plane fails, only to be rescued by a mysterious green light. This was the first suggestion of alien intervention in the movie, but the strangeness only continues from there.

Now at his lab, Dr. Meacham receives peculiar mail from an unknown sender. Parts and instructions to build a device called an “interociter.” Upon assembling the device, a not-quite-human face appears on the screen. Exeter, the man is called. He informs Dr. Meacham that he has passed his test, and offers him a job working with other scientists deemed worthy, with the noble goal of ending war.

This phrase rang a bell of familiarity. I had seen the chilling Twilight Zone episode “To Serve Man,” in which aliens came to Earth; in an attempt to uncover the aliens’ motivations, their book was translated into the titular phrase “To Serve Man”, promising something more noble than their true intent.

I thought, what could these aliens really mean when they say they want to end war? What was in it for them?

A windowless plane arrives to take Dr. Meacham away. Inside, the plane is empty, with no one to pilot. Dr. Meacham is curious enough to board the vehicle and allow it to carry him away. He is greeted upon landing by Dr. Ruth Adams. Dr. Meacham recognizes her as an old flame. She insists she has never met him before – at this point, my suspicion was through the roof. Mind control? I thought. Brainwashing? There was definitely more to be seen and this thought was further supplemented by the odd appearance of the assistant lab workers – all looking similar to Exeter. 

Dr. Meacham notes every scientist chosen to work on this project is involved with uranium. His point being that if this project really was to end war, wouldn’t they need scientists of other specialties as well? I found myself nodding in agreement and worried that what the aliens really wanted was to build an ultimate weapon of destruction.

Together with Dr. Adams and another doctor who isn’t worth mentioning by name (for he quickly is killed off) they escape the facility, pursued by a disembodied laser I could only associate with the aliens. Dr. Meacham and Dr. Adams make it to a plane, which the former flies in an attempt to outrun the aliens. It’s then they witness their facility destroyed in an explosion, and their plane becomes trapped in a tractor beam.

This is where the movie truly got exciting.

Exeter reveals to the two surviving scientists that he is an alien (I knew it) and explains his true motivations. His planet, Metaluna, is caught in a losing war with another species of aliens called the Zargons. Metaluna is protected by a failing ionization layer. It requires uranium to fix. Here, I became sympathetic to the Metalunans and thrilled as the movie ventured out into space.

My intimate friend and I are fortunate to both be college educated women, and thus took issue with some of the “science” in this part in the movie. Namely, magnetic handles that restrained Dr. Meacham's and Dr. Adams' hands. Science was not my major, but I am confident magnets do not have that effect on human flesh.

Once our heroes make it to Metaluna, the reality of the aliens’ situation is put on display. Zargons attack the planet by guiding meteoroids into collision with Metaluna. I was simultaneously horrified and stunned by the setting of this alien world. The background was richly done and absolutely convincing.

With a nonstop shower of meteorites falling in the background, our heroes meet the alien in charge: the Monitor. All hope for a peaceful ending flies out the window as the Monitor reveals his plan to abandon the doomed planet Metaluna and instead take the Earth, brainwashing all human inhabitants into submission – starting with Dr. Meacham and Dr. Adams. Fortunately for our heroes, the time Exeter has spent on Earth has caused him to grow fond of human beings. He initially resists his order to brainwash our heroes, until a brutishly strong Mutant appears.

I didn’t know whether to laugh, scream or cry with the appearance of this bug-eyed monster. One thing was for sure, its presence jump-starts a series of intense action scenes right to the end of the film, as the doctors, accompanied by Exeter, make for a hasty exit from the dying planet, with the mutant in pursuit.

The movie ends on Earth, somewhat triumphantly (depending on which character you ask). I shan't give away anything, but I can say that I was left with a somber feeling, knowing I had witnessed something horrifically tragic. I could only be thankful this was a movie and not reality.

Except this science fiction tale did not come from nowhere. Earth’s role in the story, claims author Raymond F. Jones, was inspired by the way Pacific Islands were used as bases and transshipment points during World War II. This also explained the way human characters are utilized in the story. Our heroes do nothing heroic except survive. In fact, characters Dr. Meacham and Dr. Adams offer little to the plot except to serve as witnesses for a greater story they only know a small part of.

While some of the science veered too close to the farfetched for me, I found the storytelling to be deep and compelling, with a backdrop of brilliant special effects that still hold up a decade later! It was truly a treat for a rainy day.

Four stars.




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