Tag Archives: science fiction

[November 8, 1965] You Must Be Mythtaken (Doctor Who: The Myth Makers)


By Jessica Holmes

Yes, I am quite proud of myself for that title. This month, we’re taking a trip back to a time where the line between myth, legend and fact becomes blurred. Doctor Who has a new producer in John Wiles, who has some big boots to fill, and a new writer for this serial, one Donald Cotton. Let’s dive in and see how they got on.

TEMPLE OF SECRETS

Let’s establish one thing immediately: this serial makes a number of breaks from the popular accounts of the siege of Troy. To establish a second thing, I don’t mind this. It’s a legend. There might be a kernel of truth in there somewhere, but most of it was probably made up so that it would make a good story. Well, except for the bit about fighting the river god. That definitely really happened.

The real problem here is the music. Who in the world signed off on this?! It sounds as if they fitted a below-average marching band with shock collars, gave them sheet music that had been half-eaten by a dog, then made them perform drunk with no rehearsal, and giving them an electric jolt every few seconds.

It’s just noise! I have heard more pleasant primary school music recitals.

It would perhaps be more bearable if I had something to watch, but my picture quality is very poor once again. I think it must be the weather where I live.

Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor and his companions watch the unfolding fight between Achilles and Hector on the monitor, and the Doctor makes the spiffing decision to go and ask these nice chaps where and when they’ve landed.

It’s at that point that Hector practically dares the Fates to toy with him, as he mockingly challenges Zeus himself to come down and save Achilles, who is at his mercy. So when there’s a bright light and an old man pops out of a magically appearing box, he’s more than a little taken aback, and that gives Achilles the opportunity to run him through.

Achilles mistakenly believes the Doctor to be Zeus, having appeared to him in the guise of an old beggar (which made me chortle), and the Doctor doesn’t bother to correct him.

Having learnt where he is, the Doctor attempts to return to his TARDIS, but Achilles begs him to stay, showing him the camp of Agamemnon, where the Greeks have spent the last ten years sitting outside the walls of a rather well-executed miniature model of Troy.

The Doctor and Achilles meet Odysseus (yes, THAT Odysseus), who is just a total jerk, as my American friends would put it. The Doctor has a quiet giggle to himself as Odysseus sarcastically comments that Achilles probably just chased Hector around the city until he got tired rather than facing him in honest combat.

Odysseus isn’t at all convinced that the Doctor is Zeus, and after examining his tiny ‘temple’, insists that he accompany them back to the camp. After they all leave, a Trojan patrol comes out of hiding, recovering Hector’s helmet and discovering the ‘temple’ for themselves.

Steven gets tired of waiting inside the TARDIS and goes to find the Doctor, leaving Vicki behind to rest her injured ankle, which I had forgotten all about.

In the Greek camp, Meneleus, husband of Helen (the face that launched a thousand ships, but doesn’t appear in this story) is frankly bored of this whole siege. If Paris wants Helen, he can keep her.

…I see why she left him.

Agammemnon, however, is not ready to give up, and he threatens to issue a challenge to Hector on Meneleus’ behalf.

Luckily for Meneleus, that’s when Achilles gets back and informs them that Hector’s crossed the Styx.

Odysseus arrives shortly after with the Doctor in tow. The Doctor tries to prove his divinity by revealing hidden truths, such as the fact that Agamemnon’s wife is unfaithful, but it seems just about everyone knew that except the kings, who refuse to believe it without proof.

Agamemnon finds himself in a difficult position, and decides to imprison the Doctor, unwilling to risk killing him and incurring the wrath of the gods, or releasing him and having him spill all their secrets to the Trojans.

Desc: Odysseus and Cyclops

Odysseus eavesdrops outside the tent, where he’s met by a mute spy, Cyclops. Probably no relation. Cyclops tells Odysseus, through hand gestures, that he spotted a stranger coming to the camp. Investigating, Odysseus finds Steven and takes him captive, accusing him of being a spy.

Attempting to maintain his cover, the Doctor prevents the Greeks from killing Steven on the spot, telling them that if they take him to his temple tomorrow, he’ll perform a miracle and smite the spy.

Well, they’ll be quite happy to take him to the plain, but he’d better hope for bad weather… because the TARDIS is gone.

Again.

He really does have a habit for misplacing it, doesn’t he?

Desc: an empty plain, with a disc with the image of a horse on it lying on the ground.

SMALL PROPHET, QUICK RETURN

I can’t decide whether I like this pun or whether I want to steal all of the writer’s pencils.

When the time comes for ‘Zeus’ to do some smiting, the Doctor finally caves and admits that he’s not Zeus, leading to him and Steven being captured and interrogated.

Meanwhile, the TARDIS has found its way behind the walls of Troy. Paris, Hector’s brother, is feeling rather pleased with himself for having captured a Greek shrine of some sort.

His sister Cassandra tells him to get rid of it. Naturally, he ignores her. She points out that it was unguarded, and it’s about the right size for somebody to hide inside. Has he perhaps considered it’s a trap? Doesn’t this all sound rather familiar?

Their father, King Priam, soon joins the party and attempts to prise the door open, as inside Vicki frantically searches for something to wear. For heaven’s sake, just put on a bedsheet and you’ll fit right in.

After listening to the Doctor and Steven’s true accounting of who they are and how they came to be here, Odysseus figures that they wouldn’t dare tell him such a blatantly absurd story unless they were actually telling the truth, which is questionable logic but then again none of the great thinkers have been born yet (and boy, does it show!), so perhaps we shouldn’t be too harsh. He agrees to release them on the condition that they help him take the city. Oh, and they only have two days to do it.

In Troy, Cassandra is about to burn the TARDIS as an offering to the gods when Vicki finally emerges, introducing herself as a traveller from the future. All that time in there and you couldn’t come up with any cover story at all?

Cassandra accuses her first of being a pagan goddess of the Greeks (which is confusing, as at least in The Iliad’s version of events, which is what this serial is mostly based on, the Trojans worshipped the same gods), and then of being a false prophet, though Paris points out that Cassandra doesn’t have a monopoly on reading entrails and having weird dreams.

Vicki explains that she’s not prophesying, she’s just recalling her knowledge of history, which is different. Cassandra still insists that they should kill her, while Paris argues the opposite. In the end, Priam kindly assures Vicki that she shall die when HE says so, and not a moment earlier. How very…comforting.

Oh, and the name will have to go if she’s staying. Vicki sounds far too weird for their liking, so the king re-names her Cressida. How rude.

But that name does ring a bell…

Meanwhile , the Doctor and Steven are trying to come up with ideas for breaching the city, and Steven brings up the wooden horse. The Doctor shoots the idea down, as nobody would actually be stupid enough to fall for that.

A messenger arrives to inform Odysseus that he’s been volunteered on Achilles’ behalf to go and answer a challenge from Paris, but Odysseus isn’t about to fight heel-boy’s battles. Steven volunteers to go instead, and allow Paris to take him as his prisoner so that he can search for Vicki. Odysseus thinks it’s suicide, but acknowledges that it is at least very brave.

With him gone, the Doctor keeps coming up with ideas. Tunnelling’s been tried already, but how about flight?

Steven surprises Paris as he very quietly and hesitantly calls out for Achilles, necessitating a change of loincloth on Paris’ part. He astutely observes that Steven isn’t Achilles. Lowering his voice, he admits to thinking that really this whole thing seems to have got a bit out of hand, and he doesn’t really fancy killing anyone who isn’t Achilles anyway.

Desc: A man in Greek armour fights a man in Trojan armour.

Well maybe you should have thought about that before running off with a married woman, hmm?

That said, he has a point.

He reluctantly starts fighting, and Steven has to pretend to lose, because let’s face it, Steven could eat Paris for breakfast if he were actually trying.

It’s very funny when a baffled Paris asks ‘I beg your pardon?’ and then Steven has to actually talk him into accepting his surrender, buttering him up by pretending that the Greeks tell all sorts of extraordinary tales about Paris. He sure would like to tell some of those tales within earshot of the Trojans, and gosh, wouldn’t they all be very impressed with Paris for capturing this great Greek warrior? Cough, cough. Hint, hint.

Nonplussed but a little flattered, Paris agrees to take Steven back to the city, and the pair leave, watched by Cyclops as they go.

In the city, Priam treats Vicki to a slap-up meal courtesy of his cousin Aeneas’ smuggling operation, and regales her with tales of just how much the Trojans like horses. They really, really like horses. There’s such a thing as liking horses too much, you know.

Vicki recalls a legend she once heard regarding Troy and horses, and Priam tries to press her about it. She changes the subject by asking about Troilus, the king’s youngest son. He’s rather good looking, isn’t he?

There’s a bit of a random, out-of-nowhere line on not putting too much stock into good looks, as that will only get you into trouble. Just take Paris and Helen. Paris is a nice looking bloke, popular with the ladies, and also a total cowardy-cowardy-custard. He got all taken with Helen’s beauty, and before you know it there’s a decade-long war.

‘Shame he didn’t meet a nice sensible girl like you,’ he tells Vicki. ‘It’s character that counts, not good looks.’

Ouch! Talk about a back-handed compliment.

Priam hastily apologises, insisting he didn’t mean it like that, and is about to press Vicki on what she knows of the war again when Paris marches Steven into the room, pleased as punch.

Shocked to see each other, Vicki and Steven blurt out one another’s names, and Cassandra realises at once that they must know each other.

If ‘Cressida’ knows this Greek, what more proof do they need that she’s a spy? There’s only one thing to be done with spies. They must be put to death.

Desc: A soldier in ancient Trojan armour brandishes his sword.

DEATH OF A SPY

I was quite disappointed that this episode didn’t start with a punny title. Some might consider that a good thing, though.

Tired of Cassandra’s zealotry, Paris intervenes to stop the guards dispatching Vicki and Steven. Priam is willing to believe Vicki when she says she’s not a spy, but she’ll have to prove herself. She will have to use her divine powers to aid Troy against the Greeks. If not, she’ll be burnt. In the meantime she will have to stay in the dungeons, but Priam assures her that it’s actually rather nice down there.

At least he’s affable, but I think all the men in this story have one brain cell between them and they’re playing pass-the-parcel with it.

Don't look so unimpressed, Odysseus. It's not as if you've got any better ideas.

The Doctor continues to pursue his idea for a very anachronistic flying machine. I think if you left him to his own devices for long enough he’d end up inventing the aircraft carrier several millenia early.

However, he’s not too keen on the idea of testing his invention, something Odysseus would very much like to see him do.

In the dungeons of Troy, Vicki and Steven are visited by Cyclops, who Steven tells to warn the Greeks not to attack until the day after tomorrow, so that they can buy Vicki some time. It’s then that the king’s youngest son, Troilus, visits ‘Cressida’ in her cell.

He brings her some food, and she coaxes him into sitting and talking with her.

Meanwhile, the Doctor abandons his idea of using flying machines, claiming to have made a mistake in his calculations. If you ask me, I think he was just scared of trying out his contraption.

With no better options available he finally suggests the idea of building a wooden horse. He explains the legendary plan, and Odysseus actually seems quite taken with it. So is Meneleus, once the Doctor explains to him that they’re building the horse, not looking for an actual fifty-foot-tall equine.

Maybe there is someone stupid enough to fall for it, after all.

In Vicki’s cell, she’s getting rather cosy with Troilus, and poor Steven no doubt feels very awkward as the chatting turns to outright flirting. Troilus even asks at one point whether Steven is really just Vicki’s friend or if he’s something more. Someone’s a little jealous!

When he finally leaves, Steven mocks Vicki for being so unsubtle. She retorts that she was only doing what she could to get them both out of prison. But was that really all there was to it?

Unfortunately for the pair of them, it looks like their message to delay the attack won’t reach the Greeks. Cyclops gets caught as he leaves the city, and is swiftly killed by a Trojan soldier.

The Greeks finish building their horse in an astonishingly short amount of time. Wait, where did they get the wood? There don’t seem to be any trees nearby. They’d have to travel and cut the lumber and transport it back and assemble it…and they did all that in a few hours? Yes, I’m nitpicking a fictional retelling of a pseudo-historical event that almost certainly did not happen, but it’s my job.

Desc: The head of the Trojan horse

The Doctor waits with Odysseus and his soldiers inside the horse, but the Doctor isn’t at all happy about it. In one memorable line that I am very, very surprised made it past the censors, Odysseus snaps that the Doctor is making him “…as nervous as a Bacchante at her first orgy.”

I beg your pardon?

I think you’ll find that a Bacchante is a female ROMAN follower of the ROMAN god, Bacchus. The Greek equivalent would be a Maenad, a female follower of the Greek equivalent, Dionysus.

The nonsense they’ll allow in children’s television these days!

Soon Troilus comes to Vicki in her cell and tells her that the Greeks have all left. The king thinks that she’s been a good luck charm after all, and has ordered her release. Unfortunately Steven isn’t as lucky.

The Trojans start bringing the horse into the city, much to Cassandra’s dismay. As annoying as she can be, she's the only person in the city with half a brain.

The Trojans think they’ve won… but it’s only a matter of time.

Desc:: The Trojan horse stands on a hill.

HORSE OF DESTRUCTION

The title of this episode sounds like it lost its nerve halfway to being a pun. That, or it’s just a stupid title. I know that Doctor Who likes ‘Noun of Adjective’-style titles, but ‘Horse of Destruction’ just sounds silly.

Cassandra says that the horse is a trick, an obvious trick, and the arrival of the ‘temple’ has brought nothing but bad luck, just as she said. Well, a stopped clock is right twice a day.

They notice ‘Cressida’ seems to have vanished, and Troilus goes to look for her while Cassandra sends her maidservant, Katarina.

Desc: Paris, Priam and Cassandra all look out the window.

Vicki releases Steven from the dungeon, telling him about the horse problem, and Steven wonders if his message got through. Well, chum, take a look at the great big horse standing in the town square and tell me what you think.

Perhaps it’s something in the water?

Troilus finds that his ‘Cressida’ has gone missing, and Cassandra starts screaming, yet again, about finding her and burning her. Cassandra, I like the mythical version of you, but all that screeching is giving me a headache.

Vicki returns to the palace, and they grill her on where she’s been. She manages to placate them, and the king goes with his children to investigate the horse, leaving Vicki alone with Katarina.

The Doctor grows thoroughly sick of Odysseus’ company, and finally snaps. He thoroughly tells him off, but the 'hero' pays him no mind.

Is there a Doctor in the horse?

Troilus returns for Vicki, who warns him to leave the city and find Steven (or as Troilus knows him, Diomedes) out on the plain. He takes her advice and takes his leave. Moments later, the Greeks emerge from the horse and begin dispatching the Trojan sentries. The Doctor looks on helplessly, dismayed at all the bloodshed.

Troilus doesn’t find ‘Diomedes’ out on the plane, but he does find Achilles. He doesn’t have long to wonder if ‘Cressida’ played him false before Achilles attacks. It’s a tough fight, but Achilles catches his heel on a bush and stumbles, enabling Troilus to deliver him a mortal blow. However, the dying Achilles summons the last of his strength and thrusts his sword at Troilus, gravely wounding him. So much for sending him out of harm’s way.

Desc: Achilles lies mortally wounded.At least it's more dignified than dying of an arrow to the heel.

The Greeks open the gates of Troy, letting the rest of the army inside the city. The royal family barely have time to realise what’s happening before Odysseus bursts into the palace, and they realise that all is lost.

Vicki and the Doctor find each other in the chaos, and Vicki sends Katarina to find Steven before taking the Doctor into the TARDIS to talk to him.

However, wearing the guise of a Greek soldier doesn’t do Steven any favours. He gets a nasty wound in the shoulder before Katarina finds him and brings him safely back to the Doctor.

Vicki emerges from the TARDIS. In a curious gesture she hugs the ship before turning and walking back into the city. The Doctor watches in concern as she goes, but makes no attempt to stop her.

Odysseus attempts to prevent the Doctor from leaving, but the Doctor doesn’t have to put up with his nonsense any more. As the TARDIS vanishes, Odysseus wonders if he really was a god after all.

But where’s Vicki?

Desc: Vicki and Troilus arm-in-arm.

Out on the plains, Troilus is wailing over ‘Cressida’s betrayal quite hilariously, thoroughly chewing the scenery. He settles down once she turns up and explains herself. She couldn’t just leave him and allow him to think she’d betrayed him. Besides, she belongs here now.

Excuse me? You flirt for five minutes with this guy and you decide to go and live in the Bronze Age? Vicki, that’s the teenage hormones talking. What was the Doctor thinking letting her go?

Aeneas conveniently shows up, and Troilus and Cressida go to join him in building a new Troy. I can think of a lovely spot on the Italian peninsula which should do quite nicely.

And then they kiss. How romantic.

No, I don’t buy it. I’m sorry, but I just don’t. That’s twice now that Doctor Who has written off a teen-aged companion by making her fall in love with a bloke she’s just met, This time it feels less believable than it did with Susan, for whom it made sense as an ending to her arc, but Vicki showed no signs of being ready to stop travelling. In addition, Susan and David had been through more together, whereas Vicki apparently falls in love with Troilus after one chat in a prison cell.

The Doctor is a terrible guardian. Who in any universe would think it’s a good idea to leave a teen-aged girl in a warzone? Absolutely nothing good could come of that.

However, he’s more worried about Steven right now, who has taken a turn for the worse and badly needs drugs. I suppose whatever the Doctor is a Doctor of, it’s not medicine.

Katarina, who looks to be well on her way to being Vicki's replacement in the TARDIS crew, think she’s died and that the Doctor is a god. Who does that make him, I wonder? Hades?

Desc: Katarina and the Doctor

Final Thoughts

The Myth Makers is a very enjoyable serial with many funny moments. I found myself laughing aloud in parts, having fun all the way. Donald Cotton does appear to have the knack for comic writing. With a number of cast members already established as comic actors, it’s no surprise that it turned out to be as funny as it did. Conversely, I think the serial is at its weakest when it’s trying to be more serious.

Vicki’s sendoff doesn’t make much sense to me, as it feels like too abrupt an ending for her story. I cannot speak to what may be going on behind the scenes at the BBC, but I suspect that Maureen O’Brien might have been a casualty of whatever shake-ups the new producer has in store. Only time will tell, but this has been the weakest companion departure so far. That's a real pity, as I liked Vicki a lot. She was witty, intelligent, kind, inquisitive, and just a delight to have around. O’Brien and Hartnell had excellent chemistry together. I feel quite sorry for our leading man now that all of his old long-term castmates have left.

Perhaps Katarina will be able to fill the hole Vicki left. It would be quite interesting to see how a girl from ancient Troy would react to all the weird, wonderful and horrible things out there in the Doctor’s universe.

I wonder what she’d make of a Dalek?

Text reads: Next Episode, THE NIGHTMARE BEGINS

3.5 out of 5 stars




[November 4, 1965] The Best Bad Science Fiction Wrestling Can Offer (A Review of Two Films of El Santo)


Ginevra Gafaro

There is nothing that hits the spot like a good bad science fiction film. For the best bad science fiction, there is nothing quite so satisfying as the genre of masked wrestler movies.

These films are required to balance plot, science fiction, and actual wrestling all while operating on a tight budget and being filmed in a short number of weeks. The ingenuity required of the cast and crew is nothing short of extraordinary. There are no stunt doubles and little room for error.

Two of the best examples of the new genre, Invasion of the Zombies and Samson Versus the Vampire Women, are now showing in a double feature at the Fort Lauderdale Thunderbird Drive In Theater — dubbed in English, but I've seen the originals, and I had to see them again in any format possible, they're that good.

Why These Films are Good

The plots of both films follow a simple premise: science fiction shenanigans occur and the best person to help resolve it is the masked wrestler Samson. It is easy to extrapolate how it ends from there. The beauty of these films is in the fast pace that keeps viewers at the edge of their seat and frankly, that they offer some of the most impressive wrestling matches ever seen on the screen.

El Santo
The masked wrestler himself, El Santo.

Both of these films star actual masked wrestler Rodolfo “El Santo” Guzman Huerta essentially playing himself on the big screen. Both films are produced by Alberto Lopez with cinematography by Jose Ortiz Ramos. Starring opposite El Santo is Jaime Fernandez who technically plays a character named Detective Rodriguez in one film and a character named Inspector Carlos in the other, but it is easy to imagine them as the same character.

Invasion of the Zombies

Title shot of Invasion of the Zombies in Spanish
Title shot from the original film, Santo Contra Los Zombies. This was later released in English under the name Invasion of the Zombies.

Invasion of the Zombies opens exactly as you might expect: on a ring match between Samson and another wrestler. The bout is a combination of choppy greco wrestling and some impressive lucha libre moves. One lovely highlight is when Samson jumps, grabs his opponent around the neck with his ankles and throws him flat on his back over on the other side of the ring. Incredible.

Ankles
Gorgeous.

The match goes on for about ten minutes before the actual plot begins (which is just fine). A young woman, Gloria, reaches out to local police after her father disappears. He had just finished his book on zombies. Three detectives agree to take the case, and they head over to her house to investigate. They find no leads but they do meet her uncle and his dedicated caretaker, who are distraught about the missing relative.

The film cuts to three men breaking into a jewelry store while moving in unison. They use what appears to be a laser wand to burn through a jewelry vault. A man walks in and shoots one of the three men. The bullets don’t affect him in the slightest, not even when one is shot directly in his head! The shooter is knocked unconscious by what is clearly a zombie and the three robbers leave. As they approach their getaway car, the police attempt to stop them. Again, bullets have no effect on these men, who are all obviously zombies, and the police are easily defeated.

Three men dressed in grecco style clothing while emptying out the safe deposit boxes.
Three robbers, who may or may not be zombies, empty out safe deposit boxes.

And Now For Samson

The officers explain the events to the police chief back at their station. No one uses the word zombie but it’s pretty clear this was not the typical robbery. The police chief calls local masked wrestler Sampson for help on his audio/visual communications system. Clearly the strange circumstances can only be resolved with his assistance.

Police Chief and Santo communicate through communication devices.
Samson talks with the Police Chief regarding his request for assistance.

Meanwhile the private investigators looking for the missing professor come to the same conclusions as the police chief: they decide to ask Samson for his help in their investigation. No explanation is given, but really, at this point does anyone need to provide one?

Samson somehow manages to use his communications system to spy on the black hooded villain controlling robbers. He sees the villain order the three robbers to steal children from the local orphanage. Samson rushes over to stop them. When he arrives, the zombies have children under each arm and the orphanage is on fire.

Zombies steal children from an orphanage. Typical zombie nonsense. Zombies steal children from the orphanage and light it on fire. Because they're evil.

Luring them outside to fight in the grass, a three-on-one battle ensues, Samson keeping them busy until the police appear. The good guys then all band together to stop the three robbers and yet the robbers still manage to defeat them. Not all is lost; the zombies escape without stealing any children.

The officers manage to identify the robbers and are shocked to discover they are all dead men. It is at this point that someone proposes that these people are zombies. The police chief cannot believe it.

To The Shock of No One, Things Escalate

The black hooded villain decides something must be done about Samson. He abducts Samson’s next wrestling opponent and injects him with an unknown substance.

In the ring match against Samson, the opponent shows superhuman strength and skill, nearly choking Samson to death. Samson notices something strange under his opponent's tights and pulls open the hem of his pants. The tug causes smoke to pour out from the pants and the opponent falls over in the ring. His body disappears right in front of everyone, leaving behind a strange belt on fire.

The villain then decides to try to kidnap the Mayor and Gloria. Like you do.

The villain sends three zombies out to do his bidding.
The villain gives his orders to his three favorite zombies.

Samson and the team of detectives trace the villain down to his lair, Samson battling the villain while the police fight the zombie horde. He manages to slay him and break the zombie controlling machine. The identity of the villain is revealed and the zombies disappear in a mesmerizing special effect.


Zombie Horde.

Here the story ends with a beautiful comment from Samson: “When men violate the rules of God, they become victims of their own misdeeds.” It is a more thoughtful ending than one would expect for a movie about a masked wrestler fighting zombies.

Samson Versus the Vampire Women

Title shot of Samson Versus the Vampire Women
Original title shot of Santo vs. Las Mujeres Vampiro, later released in English under the title Samson vs. the Vampire Women

Samson Versus the Vampire Women starts strong with haunting music and beautiful close ups. A vampire woman, Tundra, slips from her coffin to awaken three male vampires from their slumber. The men have been chained to granite slabs while the women rest comfortably in underground coffins.

The aesthetics of their home are stunning, a fine line between Gothic and Grecian. The special effects on the audio render the opening monologue nearly unintelligible but the beauty of the film makes it irrelevant.

The film cuts to a young woman, Diana, playing Moonlight Sonata on the piano for her brother and father. She stops playing and claims she felt summoned by the face of a beautiful woman.

The beautiful woman that Diana claims is watching her.
This is the beautiful woman Diana believes is watching her. She's right.

Diana and her brother retire for the evening, leaving their father to pull out some papers covered in large hieroglyphics. He starts to translate the document, stating that in 200 years a descendant of the woman named Rebecca will be called when she turns 21 to be put through the rituals of the vampire women.

This appears to be a universe where 200 years prior, people recorded information by using rudimentary hieroglyphics as a cipher to prevent the information from falling into the wrong hands. This is the only explanation one can surmise for the use of hieroglyphics spelling out gibberish and being read in the wrong order.

The professor calls Samson for assistance on his audio/visual communications device. Samson enters his office through the balcony, and the professor explains that Samson is the masculine equivalent of Rebecca with the condensed force of masculine strength. The actor's ability to deliver that bit of dialogue is impressive. The professor asks Samson for his assistance in keeping his daughter Diana safe. It is believed that she is the descendant of Rebecca. It’s either that, or she’s the descendant of Sappho.


The professor speaks with his friend Samson. I wonder how they became friends.

It is very important for you to know that Samson spends this entire film wearing tights, his mask, and an optional cape. It’s a good look.

Samson looking very handsome and shirtless.
Samson looking very handsome in his shirt optional attire.

We Now Interrupt Your Plot for Wrestling

Here the film cuts to Samson at a wrestling match. The match goes on for quite a while, but it’s composed of excellent fight choreography. And if you didn't come here for the wrestling, why did you come here?

Afterwards, the film moves back and forth between some quick scenes:

The vampire woman from the beginning of the movie bites Diana’s neck and drinks her blood before running off. The Carmilla similarities are off the charts.

Vampire woman leans down to drink Diana's blood.
The vampire leans down to drink Diana's blood.

A group of vampire women corner a man and drain him of blood in their lair.

The vampires discuss how they will take Diana on her 21st birthday. It is just as absurd as you can imagine, a cross between a high school girls sleepover and a cult militia. I am torn at this point in the movie. On one hand, clearly Diana would be happy with these young women considering that this is being presented as some sort of destiny plot. On the other hand, she can do better.

Vampire woman gather to discuss stealing Diana.
The vampires gather to discuss the abduction of Diana. My enemy, rubber bat on a string, makes an appearance.

In the evening, the professor throws a birthday party for Diana. The front door is guarded by two men who are charged with making sure no one enters without an invitation. A male and female vampire put him into a trance and slip in among the party guests. Not proficient at mingling, the vampires are discovered and Samson shows up to fight them. He manages to drive them off. A man is found dead from vampire bites. The group gathers to discuss next steps.

Two vampires walk into a party.
Two vampires walk into a party. They talked their way into an invitation.

Plot Relevant Wrestling Commences

Samson is forced to leave in order to fight in his next wrestling match. His opponent wears a black mask and fights with inhuman strength. Things are touch and go but Samson unmasks his opponent only to reveal a hideous vampire face. The spectators and officials riot. In the confusion, the vampire escapes and is next seen abducting Diana in a taxi.

Officers and wrestling fans alike riot.
Nearby officers try to stop the vampire while wrestling fans riot.

Her father consults his books and thus determines the location of the vampire lair. Samson immediately heads over… and walks into a trap. The vampires chain him down on one of the granite coffins but the foxy Samson manages to escape. He keeps the vampires busy but they pin him down, reaching for his mask. Just as they are about to reveal him, the sun comes in from the windows and sets the vampires on fire. A few manage to escape to the underground lair, but Samson is determined to stop them. He grabs a flaming torch and sets all of their coffins to blaze.


Samson sets fire to the vampire coffins.

Triumphant, Samson carries Diana out of the lair. He hands her back to her family and drives off into the distance.

It Sounds Terrible. Why Bother Watching?

So is it worth watching a pair of import SF films about a wrestler fighting the evil forces of the supernatural? In a word, yes. Invasion of the Zombies offers some stunning visuals and a clever version of zombies not seen before on the silver screen. Using a belt and computers to control zombies? Brilliant. Similarly, the soundscaping in Samson Versus the Vampire Women really cannot be overpraised — creepy, haunting, and beautiful in equal measures. And El Santo is always a joy to watch, one of the greatest athletes to appear on the silver screen.

True, there is also some awful film making. Invasion of the Zombies doesn’t even bother to attempt to explain why a masked wrestler is the ideal person to fight zombies or search for a man in a missing persons case. For every jaw dropping action sequence in both films, there was at least one very stupid on screen event. The ancient Egyptian bit was particularly enraging.

But the gravest sin of all, dear readers, is the use of a cheap rubber bat on a visible string in multiple shots of Samson Versus the Vampire Women. The bats weren’t even necessary for the film’s progression.

Still, for all the faults, at the heart of both films is a sincerity. Their creators clearly tried to make a product greater than the sum of its parts. That the films end up a joy to watch despite their admitted flaws is evidence that the creators have succeeded.

These two movies are truly some of the best bad science fiction that wrestling has to offer.

Samson waves goodbye from his car.
Samson waves goodbye.






[October 31, 1965] Finished and Unfinished Business (November 1965 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

Spooks and SF

All Hallow's Eve is upon us, that annual moment when the barrier between the worlds of the living and the dead is at its weakest. The departed spirits of those with unfinished business return to fulfil their goals. And puckish souls, alive and passed, spread mischief.

And amidst all this, there is candy.

In this light, the November 1965 issue of Analog is the perfect companion for Halloween. There are familiar faces, a significant departed face, delicious trifles, and sad tricks.

Tricks and Treats


John Schoenherr

Down Styphon!, by H. Beam Piper

If you read H. Beam Piper's Gunpowder God this time last year, you're familiar with Calvin Morrison, a Pennsylvania cop who got whisked to an alternate world where Aryan tribes settled the Americas and the precursors to our Amerinds stayed in Asia.  Calvin encountered a feudal patchwork where the United States had been, and he quickly took advantage of his military prowess and knowledge to help break the gunpowder monopoly of the House of Styphon, becoming Lord Kalvan of the principality of Hostigo in the process.

If you haven't read Gunpowder God, you'll be rather lost reading Down Styphon!, which is a direct sequel.  After winning its first battle against its neighbors, Hostigo now finds itself about to be attacked by neighboring Nostor and a host of Styphon-funded mercenaries.  Only by developing a mobile force and the science of military cartography can Kalvan and Hostigo hope to repel the vastly superior forces of the invaders.

Down Styphon! is little more than a campaign log, chronicling the ebb and flow of the fight from the initial preparations, to the attempted Nostorian breakthrough, to their ultimate rout. It's clearly a middle third to a novel of Kalvan's story, started in Gunpowder God.  Indeed, the tale ends on a cliffhanger: it is clear that Styphon has one more trick up their sleeve and will not go down without a fight.

The problem, of course, is that readers of Analog may never get a conclusion to this tale.  Sadly, Mr. Piper took his own life last November, and Down Styphon! is touted as the author's last published story.

On the other hand, a novel of Lord Kalvan (Lord Kalvan of Otherwhen) came out recently, and it may well have the resolution to the story.  It's also possible that editor John Campbell will license the last part of the book to finish the saga in Analog.

One hopes so.  While Down Styphon! is clearly incomplete and focused primarily on a single battle, it is yet one of the best and most riveting recountings of a military campaign I've read.  There is such rich detail that I could easily see Avalon Hill making a wargame out of it.

So I give this tale four stars for what it accomplishes and in appreciation for what it could have been (and perhaps might be — fingers crossed).

Even Chance, by John Brunner


John Schoenherr

A young Kalang tribesman in the remote mountains of Java rushes to meet a party of foreign anthropologists.  He bears a shard of a crashed vehicle, one he's certain will convince the expedition to regale him with gifts, as had happened during the War when a pilot had set down his crate and had to be nursed back to health.

But the fragment is highly radioactive, and the craft it comes from is not of Earthly construction.

That's a great setup for a story, but in (the oddly titled) Even Chance, the setup is the whole story.  You know its outcome from the beginning, and the thing reads like something from the 1940s.

A high two — it's not offensive, but it could use finishing.

A Long Way to Go, by Robert Conquest


Kelly Freas

A Mr. Randall from modern day is transported 500 years into the future.  Unlike other contemporaries who had made the trip, Randall is allowed to keep his memories of the 20th Century even if it means he'll have trouble adjusting to the 26th, the better for anthropologists to study him.

At the end, however, it is decided that it is better for Randall to be acclimatized after all.  The time traveler takes the news philosophically, noting that the future seems to have solved all of today's problems. But, his future host sadly informs him, they have unique problems of their own.

Once more, we have a fine setup to a story that fails to go anywhere. Indeed, I'm not quite sure what the point of the tale was.

Another high two.

Some Preliminary Notes on FASEG, by Laurence M. Janifer and Frederick W. Kantor

Here's a cute quasi-scientific piece on the generation of fairy godmothers, done in the style of a short journal article.

Three stars.

Onward and Upward with Space Power, by J. Frank Coneybear

On the other hand, Coneybear's longwinded piece on steam power in space keenly suffers for want of an introduction, a conclusion, and subheadings.  I suppose it's better than pseudoscience, but Analog really needs a dedicated science writer like F&SF's Asimov and Galaxy's Ley.

Space Pioneer (Part 3 of 3), by Mack Reynolds


Kelly Freas

At last we come to something that does finish: Reynolds' latest serial.  When last we left Ender Castriota (who had assumed the identity of Rog Bock to join the roster of the colony ship Titov on its way to complete a blood feud against the last of the Peshkopi clan, rumored to be on the vessel), the colony of New Arizona had been attacked by natives.  As the first intelligent aliens encountered by humanity, their presence on the planet not only poses an existential threat to the new settlement, it also invalidates the colonial charter.

A war ensues, egged on by the Captain of the Titov, who, not wanting to see his lucrative opportunity fade away, insists the aliens are simple animals.  That these "animals" wield crossbows and religious totems makes no difference to him.

Curiously, the "kogs" (as the indigenes are derogatorily called) are extremely humanoid in appearance.  Stranger still, they appear to be confined to the island on which the Titov landed.  I'm sure you can guess, as I did, the true origin of the "aliens."

Space Pioneer's third part is, like Down Styphon!, primarily a chronicle of battle and, like the Piper story, a deftly executed one.  Reynolds is good at that kind of thing.  The Peshkopi feud issue is resolved, and not as I expected it to be, and there is some good development of the relationship between Castriota and Zorilla, the one member of the colonial board who seems to be a decent man.  I was disappointed that Cathy Bergman, advocate for the non-charter member colonists had a minimal role in the third segment, however.

All told, I'd give Part Three four stars, and the book as a whole three and a half.  Good stuff, but it likely won't make the nomination for this year's Galactic Stars.

Assorted Sweets

With all of its ups and downs, Analog clocks in at exactly three stars.  However, as with any Halloween grab bag, you can always skip the candy you don't like and concentrate on what you like.  There's certainly much to enjoy in this month's first and last thirds.

Analog is surpassed this month by Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.7), Science Fantasy (3.2), and New Worlds (3.1).

Campbell's magazine is better than this month's largely reprint Fantastic (2.8) and the perennially lackluster IF (2.6).

Only one story out of the 30 new pieces was written by a woman, which makes Science Fantasy the winner of this month's SF equal opportunity award without trying very hard. 

Sad as that statistic may be, there was far more worthy reading this month than usual.  One could easily fill two big magazines with nothing but 4-star stuff.

So grab yourself this month's digests, stuff them in your trick or treat bag, and have a swell spooky holiday of haunting.  I know I will!






[October 24, 1965] "What time is it?" (October Galactoscope)


By Jason Sacks

Well, so far this has been a great month. Last week saw the end of a dynamite World Series, in which Sandy Koufax, the greatest pitcher of his generation, showed himself to be one of the greatest Jews of his generation as well. It was tremendously meaningful to my family that Sandy refused to start Game 1 for the Dodgers against the Minnesota Twins since the day coincided with our holy day of Yom Kippur.

As Sandy said, "I've taken Yom Kippur off every year for the last 10 years. It was just something I've always done out of respect."

As if that wasn't good enough, Koufax dominated games 5 and 7 of the series, with his electric fastball mowing down batters in a pair of crucial shutout victories. The Twins played well, and  were outstanding American League champs – Tony Oliva is a monster – but it seems the Koufax gave the Dodgers the edge, and turned the '65 Series into a classic.

At the movie theatre, my wife and I caught The Bedford Incident last week at our favorite theatre here in north Seattle. If you haven't had a chance to see it yet, the film is well worth a night out — if, that is, you can handle an intense and sometimes bleak drama.


Richard Widmark turns in a powerful performance as a zealous battleship captain on the search for an elusive Soviet nuclear submarine. Also featuring Sidney Poitier and Martin Balsam, this black and white drama treads similar ground to last year's thrilling Fail Safe and ends in a similarly dramatic way.

The Hunter Out of Time, by Gardner F. Fox

If it seems like I'm dragging my feet a bit before talking about my entry for this month's Galactoscope, well, you're right. Gardner Fox's new novel is the epitome of mediocrity, a book that will give you 40¢ worth of excitement but not a whole lot more. The fantastic Mr. Fox is a prolific author who churns out more books and comic book stories than nearly anyone else living. Sometimes that causes him to create some delightful work. Other times it seems like he is just delivering words just to deliver him a paycheck. There's nothing necessarily wrong with that – I'm sure the man has a mortgage to pay – but it also represents a lost opportunity.

See, this book starts out with one of the most striking first lines I can remember.

I saw myself dying on the other side of the street.

The first page builds on that momentum, with the protagonist describing his body as "blood oozed over my fingers where I held that awesome wound."

I mean, seriously, how can you read a first page like that without feeling like you have to read more? Mr. Fox is an old pro and he clearly knows some classic tricks. As I read that book, I leaned back, took a deep breath, and readied myself for a page-turning thrill ride.


Cover by Gray Morrow

But, dear reader, I'm sorry to inform you that all the best writing in The Hunter Out of Time happens on the first couple of pages. It soon turns out that the man who falls to Earth is a time traveler from the far, far future who traveled back through a supposedly impregnable barrier to steal the man's identity. The time traveler is named Chan Dahl and soon other time-displaced men come to our time, confuse our guy, Kevin Cord for Dahl, and that unleashes the most obvious and cliched adventure you can imagine.

There's little in The Hunter Out of Time you haven't seen before. Fox gives us fantastic devices, headspinning time travel with seemingly arbitrary rules, and the obligatory beautiful, weak babe from the future.  Of course Cord uses his native 20th century skills to overcome his opposition, of course Cord and the woman fall in love, and of course Fox leaves room for a sequel if somehow people want to read more of this frightfully ordinary pap.

I could go on and on about this book, but hey, it costs 40¢, it'll take you a couple hours to read, and it's got a pretty nice cover by artist Gray Morrow. I'd rather spend my time watching young Warren Beatty in Mickey One in the theatres, but you won't hate this book and it's pleasing enough entertainment for a rainy Seattle Sunday.

2 stars.


Solid Fuel


by John Boston

The rising star John Brunner has produced ambitious work such as The Whole Man and the upcoming The Squares of the City, both from Ballantine in the US, and a raft (or flotilla) of unpretentious upscale-pulp adventures for Ace Books. Some of the best of the latter were mined from the UK magazines edited by John Carnell.


by Jacks

But there’s a lot more. Brunner has been one of the mainstays of the UK magazines for a decade, but much of his best magazine work has not been reprinted because it’s too short for separate book publication and too long to fit in the usual anthologies or collections. The UK publisher Mayflower-Dell, previously distinguished by its unsuccessful attempt to bring Fanny Hill: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure to the British public, remedies a bit of this omission with Now Then, a collection of three novellas, two from the Carnell magazines and the other, his first professional sale, from Astounding in 1953.

Some Lapse of Time

The book opens with the energetically clever and creepy Some Lapse of Time, from Science Fantasy #57 (February 1963). Dr. Max Harrow is having a bad dream of a group of starving people living in ruins, one of whom is holding a human finger bone in his hand. He wakes and there is someone at his door: the police, because a tramp has collapsed in his garage. The tramp proves to be suffering a rare disease (heterochylia, an inability to metabolize fats, which become lethal) that Harrow is uniquely qualified to recognize, his infant son having died of it only recently, and which should have made it impossible for the tramp to survive to adulthood. The tramp also has clamped in his hand a human finger bone—the same bone, the end of the left middle finger, as in Harrow’s dream.

Unintelligible to the hospital staff, the tramp proves when examined by a philologist to speak a badly distorted version of English, like one might expect a primitive and isolated group to use. Meanwhile, Harrow’s marriage is blowing up under the emotional stress caused by his son’s death and his own preoccupation. When his wife slams the car door in his face, she catches his hand in the door and severs the end of his left middle finger, which falls down a gutter. Meanwhile, the tramp is sent for a head x-ray, but he turns out to be so radioactive that not only do the films turn out unusable but he has to be put in strict isolation.

Brunner brings all these elements to a thoroughly grotesque resolution—it doesn’t entirely work, but is a grimly ingenious nice try. Others apparently think so too; it is rumored that a dramatization will be broadcast later this year in the BBC’s Out of the Unknown TV series. Four stars.

Imprint of Chaos

Next up is Imprint of Chaos, also from Science Fantasy (#42, August 1960), one of a number of outright fantasies Brunner contributed to that underrated magazine. This one introduces us to a character mainly called “the traveler,” who we are repeatedly told has “many names but one nature,” unlike the rest of us who I suppose contain multitudes.

The traveler has been appointed (by whom, or Whom, or What is not explained) as a sort of metaphysical supervisor over part of the universe, charged with ensuring the primacy of order over chaos. He is on his way to Ryovora, a formerly sensible town where they have now decided they need a god.

So the traveler nips out to our Earth and snatches the unsuspecting Bernard Brown from a hike in the wood, tells him he’s unlikely to find his way home, but gives him directions to Ryovora. There, to his discomfiture, Brown is welcomed as a god, and when the next city over hears about it and sends over their god, Brown sends it packing in terror. Then the Ryovorans say they could have done it themselves (though they didn’t), and excuse Mr. Brown, after a final scene where he and the traveler bruit the futility and undesirability of magic.

A fantasy writer bad-mouthing magic may seem incongruous, but this rationalist in spite of himself really hates it, and comes not to praise magic but to bury it, though only after enough colorful magical episodes to entertain the rubes. Here the tension is more extreme than usual. His earlier fantasies mostly featured incursions of magic into the world of ordinary salt-of-the-earth types. Here, the entire setting is exotically magical, and the story is told in the fey and pompous cadences of high fantasy.

For example, from a conclave of the necromantic elite of Ryovora: “The Margrave nodded and made a comforting gesture in the air. He said, ‘But this cannot be the whole story. I move that we—here, now, in full council—ask Him Who Must Know.’” Brunner walks the edge of parody at times (“Tyllwin [a particularly powerful magician] chuckled, a scratching noise, and the flowers on the whole of one tree turned to fruit and rotted where they hung.”). But the story is clever and entertaining and merits its three stars, towards the high end.

Thou Good and Faithful

Thou Good and Faithful is older; as mentioned, it is the first story Brunner sold to an SF magazine—and it was featured on the cover of the top-of-the-market Astounding (March 1953 issue). Moreover, the readers voted it best in the issue, and it was quickly picked up by Andre Norton for her pretty respectable YA anthology Space Pioneers. Not a bad start for an 18-year-old! Though Brunner has had some second thoughts about showing us his juvenilia; the acknowledgements note it appeared in the magazine “in a somewhat different form.” I haven’t compared the two texts, though there’s clearly some updating; in this version Brunner refers to something as “maser-tight,” and masers were barely invented when this story was first published.

The story is for most of its length a bog-standard though well-turned rendition of a basic plot: find a planet, there’s a mystery, what’s going on, are we scared? The mystery is an idyllic Earth-type planet inhabited only by robots, who presumably didn’t make themselves; what happened to the makers? The final revelation is partly in the direction of, say, Clarke’s Childhood’s End, and partly in the one suggested by the story’s title, so in the end it’s much more high-minded than the puzzle story it starts out as. This is all older news nowadays than it was in 1953, but it too merits a high three stars.

Summing Up

Now Then is a solid representation of the mid-length work of this very readable and thoughtful writer, and there’s enough in the Carnell back files for several more worthwhile volumes of Brunner novellas.


Two by Two


by Gideon Marcus

The Journey has made a commitment to review every piece of science fiction released in a year (or die trying). In pursuit of this goal, I've generally tried to finish every book I've started, and if unable to, I simply don't write about it.

It occurs to me, however, that the inability to finish a book is worth reporting on, too. And so, here are reports on two of this summer's lesser lights:

Arm of the Starfish, by Madeleine L'Engle

The latest from Madeline L'Engle, author of the sublime A Wrinkle in Time, starts promisingly. Adam Eddington is a freshman biology minor tapped to work with a Dr. O'Keefe on the Atlantic island of Gaia off the coast of Portugal. O'Keefe (a grown up Calvin, from Wrinkle) is working with starfish, zeroing in on an immortality treatment. Just prior to Adam's departure from Kennedy Airport, he runs across the beautiful young daughter of an industrialist, Kali, who warns Adam to stay away from the sinister-looking Canon Tallis, who is chaperoning the O'Keefes' precocious daughter, Poly.

Adam finds himself embroiled in international intrigue, not knowing who to trust. This is exciting at first, but a drag as things go on. Gone is the quietly lyrical prose of Wrinkle, replaced by a deliberately juvenile style leached of color. Events happen, one after another, but they are both difficult to keep track of and largely uninteresting. By the time Adam made it to Gaia, about halfway through the book, I found myself struggling to complete a page.

Life's too short. I gave up.

Quest Crosstime, by Andre Norton


Cover by Yukio Tashiro

Andre Norton has come out with the long-awaited sequel to her parallel universe adventure, The Crossroads of Time, starring Blake Walker. The universe Walker lives in is a bit like that of Laumer's Imperium series and Piper's Paratime stories: there's one Earth that has mastered the art of crossing timelines, and it has built an empire across these alternate Earths.

On Vroom, the imperial timetrack, there had been a devastating war that killed most of the female population, making them particularly precious. Also, mutation has made psionic ability the rule rather than the exception. The timeline is ruled by an oligarchy of 100 meritocrats.

At the start of Crosstime, Walker is dispatched to assist Marfy, whose twin sister, Marva, has been lost amongst the timeless — and all signs point to a kidnapping. Of course, the allure of all parallel universe books is the exploration of what-if, and so Walker and Marfy's trek spans a dead Earth where life never arose, a strange saurian Earth where sentient turtles and lizardmen rule, and ultimately, an interesting timeline in which Richard III won the battle of Bosworth Field while Cortez lost the battle of Tenochtitlan. By the Mid-20th Century, there is a Cold War between Britain and the Aztec Empire along a militarized Mississippi river. It is to this world that Marfy and her abductors are tracked, and it turns out that the kidnapping is part of a plot to topple Vroom's Ancien Regime.

True to form as of late, Norton sets up some genuinely interesting background, but the characters are as flat as the pages they appear on. This time, I made it through two thirds of the book, partly on momentum from the first book in the series, which I rather enjoyed. In the end, however, disinterest won out.

Call it two stars for both books.



Don't miss the next exciting musical guest episode of The Journey Show, October 24 at 1PM Pacific!




[October 22, 1965] Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow (November 1965 Fantastic)


by Victoria Silverwolf

Days of Our Lives

I'm stealing the name of a new soap opera, due to premiere on NBC next month, because it sums up the way that past, present, and future came together in the news this month.

Yale University put an item known as the Vinland Map on public display on October 12. This is a map of the world, said to date back to the Fifteenth Century, which seems to indicate that Norsemen visited the Americas long before Christopher Columbus. In case you're wondering about the date, it was Columbus Day, in a nice bit of irony.


A detail of the Vinland Map. That's Greenland to the right, and a chunk of North America to the left.

As you might expect, there's controversy over whether this is the real thing or a forgery. Today, nobody knows for sure if this visitor from yesterday is genuine, but maybe we'll find out tomorrow.

If authentic, the Vinland Map is a voice from the past. In a similar way, folks in the present are trying to send a message to the future.

On October 16, the penultimate day of the New York World's Fair, a time capsule was lowered into the ground. (A similar object was buried nearby, during the 1939 World's Fair.) It is scheduled to be opened in the year 6939. (I'm a little skeptical as to whether such a thing can really survive and be found nearly five thousand years from now, but I like the idea.) The contents include . . . well, see for yourself.


People in that distant era will also know that we weren't very careful about spelling.

The Beatles seem destined to represent the artistic achievements of our time, if somebody actually finds the time capsule, opens it, and figures out how to play a record. They are once again at the top of the American popular music charts this month, and show no signs of leaving that position any time soon.

The latest smash from the Liverpool lads is, appropriately, called Yesterday. Unlike their other hits, it's a slow, melancholy song about lost love. Paul McCartney plays acoustic guitar and sings, backed by a string quartet. The other Beatles do not perform on the record, so it's really a McCartney solo performance.


By the way, Act Naturally is a remake of a Number One song by Buck Owens. The Beatles go Country-Western!

Flipping Through the Calendar

Given the peculiarities of the publishing business, it's no surprise that I'm reading the November issue of Fantastic in October. With their policy of filling about half the magazine with reprints, it's also not a shock to discover that we go back in time to fill up the pages. First up, however, is a new story set in a strange world that mixes up the past and the present.


Cover art by Julian S. Krupa. It's actually taken from the back cover of the July 1939 issue of Amazing Stories.


Look familiar? We'll hear more about the Space Devastator later.

Axe and Dragon (Part One of Three), by Keith Laumer


Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

Our hero is one Lafayette O'Leary, an ordinary working stiff, living in a crummy boarding house. He has a lot of intellectual curiosity, performing experiments in his tiny room and reading obscure books. He happens to find a Nineteenth Century volume on hypnotism, and learns about a technique whereby he can experience a dreaming state, while remaining aware that he is dreaming, and exercising some control over it.

(This isn't so crazy a premise as it might seem. More than fifty years ago, the Dutch psychiatrist Frederik Willem van Eeden coined the term lucid dream for such states of mind.)

Of course, he gives it a try. He winds up in a world that seems to be a bit medieval, a touch Eighteenth Century, a tad modern, and partly straight out of a fairy tale. The limitations on his ability to alter this dream world — if that's what it is — show up when he tries to give himself a set of fancy modern clothes, and winds up dressed like somebody in a swashbuckling movie.


Lafayette, ready for action.

At first, he enjoys the situation, happily replacing the lousy wine in a tavern with fine Champagne. Thought to be a wizard, he gets mixed up with the local equivalent of the cops. Still thinking this is just a dream, he tries to disappear, with only partial success.


Our hero tries to vanish, but can't quite do it.

Lafayette winds up in the palace of the King, where he is thought to be a prophesized hero, destined to save the realm from an ogre and a dragon. He also meets the King's magician, who seems to know more about what's going on than he admits. For one thing, he's responsible for the steam-powered coaches and electric lights in this otherwise nontechnological world.


The magician looks on as Lafayette admires himself.

Eventually, our hero meets the King's beautiful daughter, as well as the master swordsman who is her current boyfriend. Jealousy rears its head, and a challenge to a duel arises.

Lafayette assumes that his opponent, like everybody else in this world, is just a product of his imagination. Therefore, he reasons, the foe can't really be any better with a sword than he is. It looks like he might be in for an unpleasant surprise.


Tune in again for the next exciting chapter!

So far, at least, the tone of this novel is very light. Laumer almost seems to be parodying his own tales of the Imperium, with the protagonist finding himself in alternate realities. Unlike those serious stories, this one is a comedy. The people inhabiting the dream world speak in a mixture of archaic language and modern slang. The police are about as effective as the Keystone Kops. It's entertaining enough to keep me reading, but hardly profound.

Three stars.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow, by Ray Bradbury

The rest of the magazine consists of stuff from the old days, both the prose and the art. First we have a piece with a title that is fitting for my chosen theme. It comes from the May 1947 issue of Fantastic Adventures.


Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones, for what looks like a very odd story.

The protagonist is a would-be writer, reduced to pawning his typewriter due to his failure to find his way into print. (Surely based on the author's own early years, I assume.) He comes home to find a strange device. It sends him messages from the far future.


Illustration by Virgil Finlay.

Tomorrow's world is a dreary place, under the rule of a brutal dictator. A woman sent the machine back in time, insisting that the writer kill the remote ancestors of the tyrant. If he doesn't, the woman will be executed. If he does, the future will change, and she won't remember him at all. Since he's fallen in love with her, he will lose her either way. Besides this dilemma, he faces the moral crisis of murdering two innocent people.

This early work shows Bradbury developing his style, although it is not yet fully formed. You may think that's a good thing or a bad thing. Either way, it's got some emotional appeal, some passages of poetic writing, some implausibilities, and some lapses in logic. The ethical problem at the heart of the story — would you kill Hitler's ancestors? — is an important one, but here it's mostly used as a plot point.

Three stars.

I'm Looking for "Jeff", by Fritz Leiber

From the Fall 1952 issue of Fantastic comes this horror story, created by a master of the macabre (and other things.)


Cover art by Leo Summers. The Capote story is his very early work Miriam, which is a fine, eerie tale.

A bartender claims that a mysterious woman shows up regularly, although the owner of the joint can't see her. The reader is aware right from the start that she's a ghost.


Illustration by Emsh.

She uses her feminine wiles to pick up a customer, offering her affection in return for a promise to do something particularly violent to somebody named Jeff. The fellow, entrapped by her seductive charms — even the scar that runs across her face doesn't mar her beauty — agrees. He encounters Jeff, and makes a terrifying discovery.

There are no surprises in this variation on the classic theme of vengeance from beyond the grave. What elevates it above the usual ghost story is truly fine writing. The woman's first appearance, when she is a barely detectable wisp, is particularly fascinating.

Four stars.

Wild Talents, Inc., by Robert Sheckley

The September/October 1953 issue of Fantastic supplies this comic yarn.


Cover art also by Leo Summers, what little you can see of it.

As you'd expect, the company named in the title deals with people who have psychic powers. It's pretty much an employment agency for such folks. Their latest client presents a problem.


Illustration by Emsh

It seems the fellow can observe anyone, at any location. Unfortunately, he's very much an oddball. His only interest is in recording their sexual activities in excruciating detail. The guy in charge of the company has to figure out a way to protect the public from this Peeping Tom, while making use of his peculiar ability in an acceptable way.

The whole thing is pretty much a mildly dirty, mildly clever, mildly amusing joke. You might see it as a spoof of the kind of psi-power stories that appear in Analog far too often. A minor effort from an author who is capable of much sharper satire.

Two stars.

Tooth or Consequences, by Robert Bloch

Another comedy, this time from the May 1950 issue of Amazing Stories.


Cover art by Arnold Kohn

It starts off like a joke. A vampire walks into a dentist's office . . .. It seems even the undead need to have their cavities filled. The vampire also swipes blood from the supply kept refrigerated in the same medical building. When the red stuff is then secured under lock and key, to prevent further thefts, the vampire tells the dentist he better get some of it for him, or else. There's a twist at the end you may see coming.

I suppose there's a certain Charles Addams appeal to the image of a fanged monster sitting in a dentist's chair. Otherwise, there's not much to this bagatelle.

Two stars.

The Eye of Tandyla, by L. Sprague de Camp

We go back to the May 1951 issue of Fantastic Adventures for this sword-and-sorcery yarn, one of a handful of stories in the author's Pusadian series. (The best-known one is probably the novel The Tritonian Ring, also from 1951.)


Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones

The setting is far back in time, long before recorded history. (The story goes that de Camp wanted to create a background similar to the one appearing in Robert E. Howard's tales of Conan, but in a more realistic fashion.) A wizard and a warrior must steal a magical gem from the statue of a goddess for their King, or be executed. Their plan involves disguising themselves with sorcery and sneaking into the place.


Illustration by Virgil Finlay.

To their amazement, it proves to be really easy to grab the jewel. So simple, in fact, that they smell a rat. They cook up a scheme to put the gem back in its place, steal a similar one from another place, and present that one to the King instead. Complications ensue.

You can tell that this isn't the most serious story in the world. The plot resembles a farce, with its multiple confusions and running back and forth. It's got the wit often found in Fritz Leiber's work of this kind, but not quite the same elegance. I'd say it's above the level of John Jakes, or even — dare I say it? — Howard himself, if not quite up to the very high standard of Leiber.

Three stars.

Close Behind Him, by John Wyndham

The January/February issue of Fantastic is the source of this chiller.


Cover art by Robert Frankenberg. The so-called new story by Poe is actually Robert Bloch's completion of a fragment.

Two crooks rob the house of a very strange fellow. The guy catches one of them in the act, so the hoodlum kills him.


Illustration by Paul Lundy.

The pair make their getaway, but are followed by blood-red footprints wherever they go. You can bet things won't go well for them.

This is a pretty decent horror story, nicely written, although — once again! — not up to the level of Fritz Leiber, particularly since we've got an example of his excellent work in the field of tales of terror in this very issue.

Three stars.

Space Devastator, by Anonymous

I'm not sure if I should even mention this tiny article, excerpted from the pages of the July 1939 issue of Amazing Stories.


Cover art by Robert Fuqua.

Anyway, it's less than a page long, and speculates about a huge station in orbit, equipped with a bunch of big mirrors.


Illustration by Julian S. Krupa

The notion is that such a thing could destroy entire populations from space by focusing the sun's rays and burning up cities. Casual mention is made of the fact that it could supply solar energy as well. I suppose it's imaginative for 1939, but it's so short — the original version was probably somewhat longer — that you can't get much out of it.

Two stars.

What Day is Good for You?

Today comes out a big winner over Yesterday and Tomorrow in this month's Fantastic. Leiber's contemporary ghost story is clearly superior to tales set in the future or in the legendary past. Otherwise, this isn't that great an issue, ranging from OK to below average.

You might well get more entertainment out of an award-winning film, such as this Italian comedy, which got the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film last year. Sophia Loren plays three different women, and Marcello Mastroianni three men, in a trio of lighthearted tales of love.


For some reason, every poster I've seen for this movie features Loren in her underwear. I wonder why that might be.

And you'll definitely enjoy the next exciting musical guest episode of The Journey Show, October 24 at 1PM Pacific!






[October 18, 1965] Turn, Turn, Turn (November 1965 Fantasy & Science Fiction)


by Gideon Marcus

The Winds of Change

History is divided into eras: The Stone Age, The Middle Ages, The Renaissance.  There are Golden Ages and Dark Ages.  The Jazz Age.  The Gilded Age.  One is never quite sure of a period's exact delineations, the precise moments of its beginning or end, until the next one is well on its way.  It is possible to tell when one is in an age, however, and also to feel keenly the wistful uncertain sense one gets in the doldrums between epochs.  Who can't have felt that way in the year succeeding President Kennedy's assassination, when his civil rights program, American involvement in Indochina, even the character of government in general hung in the balance.  And who can doubt that, for better or worse, the Johnson era has clearly begun?

I've lived through two sea changes in music.  The first was in 1954, when the overripe swing and schmaltz on the radio was overrun with a wave of rock and roll, particularly if you tuned into the Black stations (luckily, a radio tuner cannot easily be segregated).  By 1963, the winds of change had become muddled.  With folk, pop, motown, surf, and country vying for our eardrums, it was quite impossible to know then where the next two years would take us.  Then the Beatles spearheaded the biggest British invasion since 1812, and a new age was upon us.

Science fiction has its ages, too.  When I got into SF in a big way, the genre was clearly plumb in the middle of one.  It was 1954, four years after Galaxy's editor, Horace Gold, had thrown the gauntlet down at the feet of puerile pulp SF, five years after the new Fantasy and Science Fiction established a literary benchmark for the genre that has yet to be exceeded.  Science fiction primarily came in digest sized magazines, and the market was aflood with them.  Quality ranged from the penny-a-word mags which were little above the pulps that preceded them to stellar new fiction that burst beyond our solar system and ranged deep into our pysches.

As the 60s dawned, the genre had become anemic.  Almost all of the monthly digests had gone out of print.  The old stalwart, Astounding, had changed its name to Analog, but is fiction remained stolidly fixed in an older mode.  Gold retired from Galaxy and Fred Pohl struggled to keep it and its sister mags fresh as its reliable stable of authors left for greener (as in the color of money) pastures.  F&SF's helm passed on to Avram Davidson, whose whimsical style did the magazine few favors.

But the genre seems to have found its feet and is stomping off in a new direction.  Propelled by a "New Wave," again largely based in Britain, the science fiction I've been reading these days no longer feels like retreads of familiar stories.  They have the stamp of a modern era, an indisputable sense of 1960s.  And no single issue of a single magazine has represented this renaissance in SF better than the latest issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction.

A Fresh Breeze


by Gray Morrow (illustrating the many perils of … And Call Me Conrad (Part 2 of 2)

Come to Venus Melancholy, by Thomas M. Disch

Disch is one of the flagbearers of the new era.  In just three years, this new author has produced more than 20 stories, some of them quite brilliant.  In this one (set on an obviously pre-Mariner Venus), a lonely cyborg staffer of a trading post literally holds you captive while she tells the sad story of how she lost her love.

By turns horrifying and heartbreaking, it's a moving piece.  Four stars.

The Peacock King, by Larry McCombs and Ted White

Less effective though more experimental is this piece on the first successful hyperdrive jaunt.  After four failures, it is determined that the transition to hyperspace bears similarities to drug-induced schizophrenia.  One couple, so in love as to practically share a consciousness, is fed a regimen of psychoactives to prepare them for the trip.

Somewhat roughly written, and perhaps too short, it is nevertheless a fascinatingly "now" story delving into new territory.

Three stars.

Insect Attractant, by Theodore L. Thomas

This usually disappointing column of sf-story ideas masquerading as short science articles starts promisingly, discussing how insect pests could be eradicated through synthesis of female sex pheromones, which could then be sprayed to disrupt their breeding cycles.  A fine alternative to DDT.

But then he goes on to suggest that human females have similar pheromones, and that distillation and application of same could be used by marriage counselors, as if love is purely a matter of chemical compatibility. Perhaps the author has never been in love, let alone gotten married.  Of course, Mr. Thomas may have meant the piece in jest, though I also resented its casually sexist overtones.  Either way, it's not worth the page it occupies.

Two stars — and let's please 86 this column, Mr. Ferman?

… And Call Me Conrad (Part 2 of 2), by Roger Zelazny

When last we left Konstantin Karaghiosis, Minister for Cultural Sites on an atomics-devastated Earth, he was giving a tour of Greece to a blue-skinned Vegan, name of Cort Vishtigo, and his human entourage.  Ostensibly, the alien was on Earth to write a travelogue.  His true purpose is unknown, but the members of the Radpol movement believe Vishtigo's trip is a real estate survey, prelude to the Vegans buying up the planet to plunder.  An assassination attempt is in the offing, and Karaghiosis (virtually immortal and currently going by the name of Conrad) believes that the alien's bodyguard, Hassan, is the likely killer. 

That's the context, but the tale Zelazny weaves reads like a modern interpretation of mythology, with Conrad's party encountering a host of radiation mutated beasts, humans, and everything in-between.  Conrad is a tale of survival, of derring do, of proving worth.  It's also a pretty good mystery with a satisfying, if a touch too pat, ending.

At first, I was leery of Zelazny's style, a first person macho that threatens to become precious.  But there's enough self-deprecatory humor to make it work, and I found the pages flying.  There's enough action to keep it moving, enough depth to keep you thinking.

Four stars for this segment, and the novel as a whole is elevated to this rank as well.

El Numero Uno, by Sasha Gilien

It used to be that Death attended to matters personally.  Now, the business has boomed, and he requires field agents armed with legal contracts instead of scythes.  This particular case involves a harried operative on the sports beat and a particularly recalcitrant matador scheduled for expiration.

Good stuff in the style of Ron Goulart.  Four stars.

Squ-u-u-ush!, by Isaac Asimov

Having previously discussed the shortest measure of time, the largest measures of dimension, the hottest heat, and the coldest cold, the Good Doctor now explores the densest densities, starting with ordinary matter and proceeding the greatest crushes in the universe: the interior of giant stars.

Cutting edge stuff, and it's the first time I learned of neutronium, a state of matter even more compressed than that found inside a white dwarf.

Four stars.

A Few Kindred Spirits, by John Christopher

Last up, the much heralded author of No Blade of Grass offers up a tale combining a queer (in both senses of the word) group of dogs, the concept of reincarnation, and the pursuit of literary laurels.  A character study cum literal shaggy dog story, it's perhaps the most conventional piece of the issue — save for the rather daring (and refreshingly uncondemned) discussion of alternate sexual preferences.

Four stars.

The Sound of Shoes Dropping

It is clear that, after a long many-tacked jaunt in trackless seas, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has set a bold new course.  I have high hopes and more than a little suspicion that this New Wave era has many more exciting years left to it.

After quite a few lean years, I'm finally getting my dessert again!






[October 10, 1965] Doctor Where? (Doctor Who: Mission To The Unknown)


By Jessica Holmes

Probably weren’t expecting me to be back so soon, eh? We’ve got a very, very unusual story this week, courtesy of Terry Nation. Why is it so unusual? Let’s find out.

MISSION TO THE UNKNOWN

We see the man from last week’s preview waking up in the middle of the forest, and saying he must kill. Kill who? Well, that doesn’t really matter. The killing is the important part. Don’t get too attached to him.

Nearby two men, Cory and Lowery, are trying to repair their spaceship. They are apparently with the UN Deep Space Force. I don’t know what that is but it certainly sounds cool. They’re starting to wonder where Garvey, the other bloke who woke up with a craving for murder, has vanished to. He shows up before long, and corners Lowery alone outside the ship. However, before he can kill him, Cory pops out and shoots him dead.

Rather than reacting with gratitude, Lowery is very upset with Cory for shooting his friend without giving him a chance. Cory makes a reasoned and sensitive response to his protest, introducing Lowery’s cheek to the palm of his hand.

He then shows Lowery the thorn behind Garvey’s ear. It’s a Varga thorn, he says, and this is what drove him into a murderous state.

The pair go inside the ship, and outside, Garvey’s hand starts to move, the flesh beginning to mutate into something else…

Inside the ship, Cory fills Lowery in on information he probably ought to have been given in the first place, but then again, if he already knew it then there wouldn’t be an opportunity to do an exposition dump. Cory is an agent with the Space Security Service: licence to kill, naturally. About a thousand years have passed since the last Dalek invasion of Earth, but they’ve been rebuilding their power in the meantime, and just last week a Dalek ship was spotted in local space.

As Cory explains all this, a now-transformed Garvey rises from the dead. He is more plant than human now.

Cory goes on to explain that he’s investigating this planet because, as the most hostile planet in known space, it could be a hidden base for the Daleks. Bringing up the thorn again, he tells Lowery that it’s a Varga thorn, and the Varga plant only grows naturally on the Dalek homeworld of Skaro. Logically, if there are Varga here, the Daleks must be too. Well, thinking about it, they could have been here, done some gardening, and then left, but he doesn't seem to consider that.

Sure enough, in the next scene we see a few Daleks. They’re expecting to receive emissaries from seven planets soon. Before they can hold their meeting, however, they’ll be needing to do something about the alien spaceship they’ve found. They’re going to destroy it, and any occupants. Big shocker, there.

The human astronauts are in big trouble as they set up their rescue beacon outside the ship. They’re surrounded by Varga, and the Daleks are closing in on their position.

Spotting a huge rocket ship flying overhead, Cory surmises that something very big is going on here, and if the Daleks are involved then the whole galaxy is in danger. They need to record a message and send the rescue beacon as soon as possible.

Before they can send it however, they hear the approaching Daleks, and grabbing the rocket they head for the cover of the jungle.

The Daleks find the human ship and set out to search for the crew, but not before blowing their vessel to smithereens.

As the pair move through the jungle, disaster strikes when Lowery brushes against a Varga, and it pricks his hand. Frightened, he conceals it from the other man. Have you watched no horror flicks ever, man? Everyone knows that nothing good ever comes of concealing the fact that you're about to turn into a bug-eyed monster/zombie/shrubbery with legs.

Meanwhile, an assortment of strange alien envoys are meeting with the Daleks. However, the meeting can’t begin as one of the aliens knows of a hostile influence on the planet, but the Daleks assure them that the humans are in the process of being hunted down and destroyed.

The assembled aliens agree to an alliance with the Daleks in a historic first which is very bad news for the rest of the galaxy. They represent the greatest invasion force ever assembled, and where are they planning to begin? Earth, of course.

It’s a very nice planet but why are aliens always so obsessed with it?

It’s interesting to me at any rate to see Daleks making alliances with other powers in space. They always seemed like loners to me, but I suppose pragmatism wins out in the end. I'll be curious to see how this all turns out. I wouldn't be surprised if the Daleks turn on their allies as soon as they outlive their usefulness.

Things go from bad to worse for the humans, as Lowery is quickly succumbing to the Varga’s poison. Cory returns from scouting to report having found a Dalek city hidden in the jungle, and he heard an announcement that the invasion of the galaxy is about to begin.

However, the Varga venom has consumed Lowery, leaving Cory with no choice but to shoot him dead as he reaches for his gun. Alone and with the Daleks fast catching up to him, he hurriedly records a message to warn the rest of the galaxy.

And then the worst-case scenario happens.

As he tries to attach the message to the beacon, the Daleks surround him. With a cry of ‘Exterminate!’ they blast him with everything they’ve got. Moments later, Cory lies dead, and his message will never be sent.

The galaxy won't know what hit it.

Final Thoughts

No, really. That’s it. That’s the whole story. This is the first Doctor Who story to be a single episode long. Not only that, it’s the first one in which neither the Doctor nor his companions make an appearance. I suppose he got his day off after all!

And to top it all off, this is the only episode so far in which the baddies win.

It is surprisingly dark. Doctor Who has never really shied away from character death, but it’s normally just the bad guys and one or two goodies at most that end up kicking the bucket. If this is setting the tone for the upcoming behemoth of a serial, which will also be by Terry Nation and featuring the Daleks, then we might have some grim television ahead of us.

Don’t get me wrong, though— I like it. It does admittedly feel more like a prequel to a bigger story than an actual standalone story of its own, but it’s tightly paced, they’ve managed to squeeze in a little characterisation which is pretty commendable given the very short runtime, and the Daleks are back to feeling like a real threat again, plus a tease of a number of other potentially interesting enemies.

It looks like our pal the Doctor is going to have his work cut out for him. We’ll have to wait and see how he gets on…

And for one final thing, I hear that this is Verity Lambert’s final episode as a producer on Doctor Who. I think we all owe her a big thank you for her role in bringing the show to life in the first place, and as a woman I thank and commend her for being the BBC’s first woman producer, paving the way for the many talented women who will follow in her footsteps. Thank you, Verity, and we all wish you the very best of luck for the future.

4 out of 5 stars




[October 4, 1965] Galaxy Bore (Doctor Who: Galaxy 4)


By Jessica Holmes

Hello, dear readers! Summer’s passed, there’s a cold snap in the air, and Doctor Who is back on our television sets, which means that I get to waffle on to you about it at great length. Did you miss me?

We’re kicking things off with a strange new world and a new writer. I don’t believe we’ve had William Emms pen an episode before, so shall we see how he got on?

FOUR HUNDRED DAWNS

The TARDIS materialises in a rather barren landscape, with a great big load of nothing as far as the eye can see. Well, as far as I can see, anyway, as my television set is malfunctioning. I managed to hear the audio just fine, but I did end up losing the picture quite often, so please do bear that in mind.

Aboard the TARDIS, Vicki’s giving Steven a haircut as the Doctor surveys the outside environment. He notices that the conditions are perfectly conducive to life, but there don’t seem to be any signs of it outside.

Not at first, anyway. Before long, a strange little thing scoots along. It looks a bit like a beehive on wheels, and it’s feeling its way around the TARDIS.

Leave it to Vicki to call it cute and nickname it a ‘Chumbley’.

It doesn’t stick around for long, enabling them to emerge from the TARDIS and spot the three suns in the sky. However, another arrives, this time toting what appears to be a gun. After witnessing it set a bush on fire with a single blast, the group allow the Chumbley to escort them off.

Two women watch as the Chumbley leads them away from the TARDIS. As it comes close to them, they throw a metal mesh over it, deactivating the device.

The explorers are glad of the rescue, and Steven in particular is pleased to see it comes in so fair a form. The women introduce themselves as Drahvins, sent by their leader to rescue the newcomers. They say that the Chumblies are under the control of the ‘Rills’, who sound jolly unpleasant. However, they don’t explain why their leader took an interest in them in the first place, and Vicki doesn’t trust that they have good intentions. Steven, however, is all too happy to trust a pretty face. For his part, the Doctor isn’t sure either way, and opts to be compliant, but cautious.

More Chumbleys arrive, and the group have to flee. The Drahvin women escort the travellers to their ship, a beat-up old rustbucket that isn’t flying anywhere any time soon.

I can’t help but roll my eyes as the men seem rather giggly as the women order them to be silent for the arrival of their leader, Maaga. Fellas, they might be women, pretty ones at that, but they have guns and look like they mean business.

Maaga arrives on the scene, and after debriefing her troops, informs the travellers that the Drahvins are at a state of war with the Rills, with total obliteration of the other side being the only possible outcome. They themselves may end up obliterated.

Why are they at war? The planet will explode in two weeks’ time according to the Rills, who have the only working spaceship.

Maaga doesn’t seem the type to try asking nicely.

As for why the planet’s about to explode, your guess is as good as mine. I’m no physicist, but I’d imagine the three suns exert enormous tidal forces on the planet, so perhaps it’s more accurate to say that it’s about to be torn apart.

The reason they’re on this doomed world in the first place is that their planet is overpopulated, and they were looking for suitable planets for colonisation. Steven asks if the population of Drahvin are all women, prompting another eye-roll from me. I can’t imagine he’d ask the same of an all-male crew, would he?

For the record, there are indeed men on Drahvin– just the few they need to breed the next generation. The rest are killed for being a waste of resources.

It’s an interesting society for sure, made even more so by the revelation that Maaga’s soldiers were grown in test tubes for the purpose of fighting and killing. She insists they aren’t real people, and they certainly act more like robots than sentient creatures, but that in my opinion could be more a matter of conditioning than anything else, which makes their poor treatment far more sinister.

Maaga finishes off the dump of exposition by telling the Doctor that the Drahvins and Rills shot one another down, the Rills having opened fire first, and then the Rills murdered one of her soldiers shortly after crash-landing.

A Chumbley approaches and attempts to send a message, but Maaga opens fire on it before it can, scaring it away.

It’s at this point the Doctor raises a pertinent question: why did the Rills tell the Drahvins that the planet was going to explode?

Maaga’s assumption is that they were trying to get the Drahvin to come aboard their ship so they can kill them.

Well, if that’s what she thinks, then who’s to say if the planet is actually in any danger at all?

Lucky for them that the Doctor is a scientist. He can find out one way or the other.

Vicki volunteers to stay behind while the men go back to the ship, ostensibly to make sure that the whole crew aren’t putting themselves in danger, but everyone including the audience knows that in actuality she’s a hostage.

The Doctor and Steven find a Chumbley trying to break into the TARDIS when they get back, but it gives up before long, and they get inside and the Doctor gets to work. He soon learns to his horror that the planet is indeed going to be destroyed– but the timing is way off! This planet doesn’t have fourteen dawns left… it has two.

Tomorrow is the last day this planet will ever see.

TRAP OF STEEL

Talking of things going BOOM, the fellas had better watch out for the Chumbley outside the TARDIS. It’s got a bomb!

The blast knocks the pair off their feet, but the ship itself is unharmed, surviving a second blast unscathed. The Chumbley leaves in defeat, and the men leg it before it can come back with an even bigger bomb.

On arriving back at the Drahvin ship, the Doctor tells Maaga that the planet is indeed going to explode, but he doesn’t share his knowledge of how little time they truly have left.

If the Drahvins are going to escape, they’ll need the Doctor’s help. Rather than ask for something reasonable, like a lift in the TARDIS, Maaga insists that the travellers help to capture the Rills’ ship. The Doctor refuses, as he’s not in the business of killing people, and he’s not about to start now.

The gang are starting to get suspicious of her version of the story and her insistence that they can’t possibly work together with the Rills, and it seems they’re right, as when asking nicely doesn’t work, Maaga threatens them with a gun. Steven tries to subdue her, but he’s no match for all her soldiers.

Left with no choice, the Doctor reluctantly agrees to help. However, his initial hesitance has made Maaga suspicious of him, and she threatens to kill Vicki unless he admits what he’s not telling her. He tells her how little time they really have, and she orders the men to go out immediately to capture the ship, intending to hold Vicki hostage. However, Steven insists on taking her place, and the Doctor and Vicki set off alone to try and capture a spaceship.

It doesn’t make sense to me. Surely it’d be better if they had the soldiers with them? There must be somewhere that Maaga could safely hold a hostage.

How about the air lock?

While awaiting the return of the others, Steven gets chatting to one of the soldiers, pointing out that it doesn’t seem very fair that Maaga gets better food and weapons than them, despite them being on the front lines and taking all the actual risks. He suggests to her that if she were to give him her gun, and she took Maaga’s, they could go out together and kill Chumbleys, and Maaga would be pleased with her. The soldier, being both naive and not terribly bright, which is presumably by design, is very nearly taken in, before Maaga shows up and puts an end to Steven’s short-lived escape attempt.

Maaga suggests to Steven that he could leave in the TARDIS and take her and her soldiers with him.

Why didn’t you ask that in the first place?!

Steven echoes my sentiments, and Maaga more or less tells him to shut up.

Charming. It’s a bit late now, though. Without the Doctor, Steven couldn’t take them off the planet even if he were so inclined.

Near the Rills’ base of operations, Vicki and the Doctor observe the movements of the Chumbleys, and Vicki realises that aside from being blind, the Chumbleys can’t detect sounds directly behind them. A suspiciously convenient design flaw, if you ask me. By exploiting this they manage to tail a Chumbley all the way to the Rills’ base, where they find a drill rig, and some sort of air purifier.

In summarising this, I am editing out the many, many pauses in the action in which a Chumbley rolls past agonisingly slowly, making a deeply irritating noise, while the Doctor and Vicki wait for it to pass. The pacing of this episode, and indeed the whole serial, would be a lot tighter without all these lulls, though I suspect it might end up a whole episode shorter.

Oh, and we finally get a glimpse of the Rills, observing them through a viewport inside their ship. I was half-expecting the Rills to turn out to be ordinary men, as it seemed to me that as Maaga was likely stretching the truth about their villainy, she might also be fibbing about them being monsters. Plus with her distaste for men to the point of absurdity, it would have been funny.

To give her credit, she was telling the truth– to a certain extent.

See, there’s one thing we can confirm about the Rills: they are most certainly NOT men. Not even close, appearing less like a person and more like a rotting whale carcass with lamprey mouths for eyes.

But are they as scary as they look?

AIR LOCK

A Chumbley arrives on scene, and the pair make a run for it. However, Vicki isn’t quite fast enough, and ends up trapped inside the Rills’ base. The Doctor quickly comes up with a plan to flush the Rills out of hiding, which will hopefully force them to open the doors, by messing with their air converter. However, it’ll take time, so he counsels Vicki to be brave and try to stay out of trouble, and go with the Chumbley.

Back at the Drahvin ship, Maaga’s finding that lab-grown soldiers with hardly any minds of their own make for poor conversation partners, as she tries to get through to them that the situation has changed, so no, they can’t go out on patrol. The soldiers are confused by the loyalty Steven shows to his friends, and Maaga, too, finds it confusing. She knows on an intellectual level that such creatures exist, but it would appear that Drahvin culture doesn’t share this concept with our own. Perhaps it’s her society, or just how she’s wired.

Still, inspirational speeches seem pretty universal, as Maaga gives her soldiers a lovely pep talk about stealing the Rills’ ship, and looking back on the exploding planet and imagining the horrible deaths the Rills are experiencing.

Nice lady.

As for the Rills, well, it turns out they’re rather polite. Using a Chumbley to translate his thoughts into speech that Vicki can understand, the Rill at the porthole apologises to her for separating her from the Doctor, and asks her who she is and what she’s doing here. When she explains that the Drahvins are forcing her to help steal the Rills’ ship, the Rill within is quite perplexed, as they had offered to take the Drahvins with them.

This Rill’s side of the story is that they encountered the Drahvins in space, and had halted their flight for fear of provoking an attack. He claims that the Drahvins fired first, so the Rills retaliated. Interesting.

Unable to breathe the local atmosphere, they nevertheless set out to help the Drahvins, finding one badly injured. However, before they could help her, Maaga intervened and drove them off, and as they left they witnessed her kill the injured soldier.

Curious, Vicki wants to properly know what the Rill looks like. However, he can’t come outside, as he can’t breathe oxygen at all.

That seems inconsistent with them having attempted to help an injured Drahvin, but it’s not terribly important.

Vicki realises with horror that the Doctor’s plan to flush them out will actually kill them.

Meanwhile, a dozy Drahvin provides Steven with another opportunity to escape, as he manages to sneakily subdue her and take her gun. However, on reaching the airlock, he finds himself stuck. On one side is Maaga, demanding he come back in. On the other is a Chumbley, which as far as he knows is unfriendly. He’s trapped.

Vicki manages to stop the Doctor from accidentally killing the Rills, and the Rill at the porthole explains to the Doctor that they’re drilling for oil to refuel their ship. The Doctor warns them that they don’t have as much time as they think. However, he can help.

Before he can elaborate much further, a Chumbley gets a message, and the group learn that Steven is trapped in the Drahvin airlock.

It’s worse than that, though. Tired of Steven’s misbehaviour, Maaga gives him three options: he can come inside and surrender, he can go out and face death by Chumbley, or she can depressurise the airlock with him inside.

Realising that Steven is in big trouble, the others rush off to help, taking a couple of Chumbleys for backup.

Struggling to breathe as the airlock depressurises, Steven decides to try his luck with the Chumbley. However, now that it’s depressurised, the outer door doesn’t work any more. His three options are down to two: surrender or suffocate.

THE EXPLODING PLANET

Arriving in the nick of time, one of the Chumbleys accompanying the Doctor and Vicki manages to blast the airlock open, and Steven staggers out gasping for breath. As the other two help him recover, a smoke bomb sends the Drahvins coughing and spluttering out of their ship. However, they find themselves outgunned by Chumbleys. As the travellers retreat with a Chumbley in tow, the Rills tell the Drahvins that though they’ve tried to be friendly, they won’t tolerate their new friends being attacked. They order the Drahvins to go back into their ship and stay there.

Maaga and her soldiers retreat and regroup, but they certainly don’t intend to stay put. With only one night remaining to capture the Rills’ ship, Maaga comes up with a plan to sneak out and destroy the Rills’ air converter.

The Doctor meanwhile offers the Rills a jump-start, heading off to hook up his ship to the Rills’ ship. Steven stays behind alone with the Rills, and it’s a bit awkward at first, made even more so when he asks if the Rills will actually let them go if they can’t power the ship in time. However, the Rills are not the Drahvins. If time runs out, so be it. Having seen the code the Doctor lives by, it would be a terrible waste if he were to die here for no reason.

Steven sheepishly apologises for mistrusting them, and tells them that the Drahvins will still be planning to steal their ship, and he gets to work on fixing the power cable.

Vicki and the Doctor arrive back at the TARDIS and connect the power line. It’s not very important, but there is a pretty line of dialogue in response to Vicki’s musings about this all soon exploding into nothingness. Not nothingness, the Doctor corrects her, but hydrogen gas spreading out among the stars like molten silver. It interests me how the Doctor finds the beauty even in destruction.

The first foreshocks of the planet’s destruction hit the Drahvin ship, and they begin to panic. Maaga may be about to reap what she’s sown, but I feel bad for her soldiers, because they don’t really understand their situation or how they’ve been manipulated. One of the Drahvins sneaks out of the ship and manages to smash the sentry chumbley with a pipe, enabling the others to escape.

The Rills usher the travellers to shelter inside their ship, which doesn’t sound very safe. I’m pretty sure ammonia and humans don’t mix. A Chumbley paralyses the first Drahvin to attempt entry into the Rills’ base, and more emerge to confront the Drahvins outside.

Finally coming face to face, the travellers, though initially a little taken aback by the Rills’ appearance, reckon that they probably look just as strange from the Rills’ perspective, so why treat them any different? It’s not the most subtle delivery of the moral of the story, as I’d have thought even a child could have gathered the ‘don’t judge people by how they look’ message, but there you go.

They can’t stay inside for long, as the ammonia starts to make Vicki feel ill, and the ship is almost fully powered. The Doctor insists that they don’t hang around to make sure that the travellers get back to the TARDIS safely, and they prepare to take off.

The Drahvins notice the sudden absence of Chumbleys, and see the Rill ship leaving. Their only hope now is the TARDIS, and they chase after the travellers. However, they aren’t fast enough, and the gang slam the doors shut and dematerialise as fast as they can, abandoning the Drahvins to their fate.

Maaga and her soldiers watch in terror as they realise they have no means of escape, and moments later the planet explodes in a flash of blinding light. Maaga may have made her own bed, but I’m not sure how I feel about abandoning her soldiers, as they really didn’t seem to have the capacity to go against Maaga. They might have had a limited degree of free will, but they could still feel pain and fear.

Safely away, the Doctor remarks that just once, he would like to land somewhere where he isn’t immediately surrounded by danger. They spot a likely planet, and we get to see a vibrant jungle, where a man sits with his gun, chanting under his breath ‘I must kill’. So it doesn’t look like the Doctor’s getting a break any time soon.

Final Thoughts

Honestly, there’s not that much to say about Galaxy 4. It doesn’t feel like anything particularly new, given we’ve had multiple stories in which the travellers find themselves in the midst of a conflict between two races on some other planet, one side being the baddies and the other the goodies.

As for tension, there’s really not much. The Chumbleys were too cute to be a threat in the first place, and as we learn they weren’t actually a threat at all. The Drahvins are just too incompentant to feel threatening, and the Rills immediately turn out to be nice. The whole thing has quite a plodding pace that doesn’t make me feel the urgency of the situation.

As a minor note, I feel like there was a point being made with the Drahvins, but I’m not sure what that point was. It could be taken as pro- or anti- feminist, depending on your outlook. On the one hand it’s a female-led society and a bunch of powerful warrior women. On the other, the society is misandrist to the point of absurdity, only one of the Drahvins actually has a name, the others being portrayed and described in-story as woman-shaped objects, Maaga’s leadership is deeply questionable and founded in manipulation, and the warrior women can’t even defend themselves from an unarmed teenage girl, as happens in one moment in the story where Vicki disarms a lone Drahvin.

If the intention was pro-feminist, the writer severely undermined his own message. And if it wasn’t, that doesn’t surprise me. Other than that it’s just not a terribly interesting serial to me. It’s not terrible or anything, but you’re not missing much.

Next time we’re going on a very brief trip, so hopefully there will be plenty of action packed into the next adventure.

Until next time!

2 out of 5 stars




[September 30, 1965] Big and Little Bangs (October 1965 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

The Big One

Billions of years ago, the entire universe was smaller than the head of a pin.  For an endless eternity, or perhaps just an instant, it remained in this state – and then it exploded outward with the force of creation, ultimately becoming all that we see today.

Until this year, this "Big Bang" theory was as yet unconfirmed.  It had stiff competition in the "Steady State" hypothesis, which postulated that the universe is indeed expanding, but because of matter being constantly created.  This was fundamental to the plot of Pohl and Williamson's recent novels set in the reefs of space at the edges of our solar system.

But last year, Arno Penzias and Robert Wilson at the Bell Telephone Laboratories in Murray Hill, New Jersey noticed an excess of radio noise in the receiver they were building, an excess that closely resembled the Cosmic Microwave Background predicted by physicists Ralph Alpherin, Robert Herman, and George Gamow.  This extremely low level but pervasive energy is what's left of the heat of the primeval explosion, reduced to microwaves by the expansion of the universe.


The Murray Hill facility where the echoes of the Big Bang were discovered

Smaller Ones

Here on Earth, it seems our planet is anxious to imitate the violence of the universe at large.  On September 28, the Taan Volcano off the coast of the Philippine island of Luzon exploded, killing hundreds of Filipinos.

And less of a bang and more of a blaaat, we've just finished ringing in the Jewish new year with the traditional blowing of a ram's horn.

The Littlest One

Meanwhile, editor John W. Campbell, Jr. seems content to not rock the boat, providing a mixed bag of diverting fare and stale garbage in the latest issue of Analog, a combination that is unlikely to knock anyone off their feet.


by John Schoenherr

Overproof, by Johnathan Blake MacKenzie

On a planet two hundred light years from home, a husband and wife pair of anthropologists come across a horrifying discovery.  The native Darotha, an amphibian race resembling across between a cat and an octopus, are eating humans.  At least, it seems that way – the Yahoos, apelike herd animals on their planet, bear a striking resemblance to homo sapiens.  Are the Darothans really mass murderers?  Or are looks deceiving?


by John Schoenherr

This is an interesting piece that Randall Garrett (under a pseudonym) has offered up.  Unusually for an Analog story, the Darothans are a well-drawn alien race and not played for inferiority – indeed, they are treated with sensitivity not only by the author but by the Terran colonists on the planet, who see them as exciting as potential partners and as an example of non-human society.  In the end, the story is essentially an inverse of Piper's Fuzzy stories, where the question is not whether the humanoid Yahoos possess the spark of humanity, but whether they don't.

It's not a perfect story.  The conclusion is pretty obvious from the beginning, it meanders and repeats a bit, but it's more subtle than what I usually see in Analog, and it kept me interested.

Three stars.

The Veteran, by Robert Conquest

Humans from the future, who have forgotten the art of war, summon someone from the past to lead them in a war against alien nasties.  Unfortunately for them, the person they've found is a devout pacifist.  But luckily, the fellow discovers the battle lust within that he needs to fulfill his role.

Rather offensive, simplistic, and for some reason, the aliens conquer our solar system in reverse order of distance from the Sun even though it's unlikely that they'd all be lined up so obligingly.

Two stars.

Snakebite!, by Alexander W. Hulett, M.D. and William Hulett

For some reason, Campbell saw fit to include this high school science project discussing the use of snake venom to produce antivenom blood serum in rodents.  As an actual article, it might have been mildly interesting, but in its current form, it's pretty pointless.

Two stars.

The Mischief Maker, by Richard Olin


by John Schoenherr

A story told in epistolary, Maker describes how a crackpot professor with a grudge stumbles across the great power of the Law of Analogy, which he uses to destroy the leaders of America through various bits of voodoo and witchcraft.  Truth be told, my eyes glazed over when the author mentioned the Hieronymous Machine, that psychic amplifier requiring no power source that editor Campbell is so enamored of.

Two stars.

Space Pioneer (Part 2 of 3), by Mack Reynolds


by John Schoenherr

Last but not least, we have the continuation of Reynolds' serial that began last month.  When last we'd seen the assassin impersonating Rog Bock, shareholder in the colonial venture on New Arizona, his masquerade had been discovered by at least one other shareholder.

Part 2 begins with the colony ship Titov landing on its virgin planet destination, so closely resembling Earth as to be a near twin.  The rapaciousness of the shareholders' goal becomes clear as the 2000 colonists find they have virtually no rights, that the shareholders plan to sell the valuable resource rights to outside entities almost immediately, and that the crew of the ship largely comprise ex-military personnel to make them a ready police force to keep the settlers in line.

Unrest threatens to boil over as the colony teeters on the brink of collapse, reeling from colonist indolence and sabotage by unknown persons – but by the end of this installment, they all have bigger concerns to worry about…

Again, Pioneer has only the barest trappings of science fiction.  Nevertheless, this is one of Reynolds' more deft tales, and I'm enjoying it a lot.

Four stars for this bit.

Seismographic Data

Where does this leave us for the month?  Well, Analog clocks in at just 2.7 stars, below Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.4), Science Fantasy (3.3), New Worlds (2.8), and Worlds of Tomorrow (2.8); it is just tied with the lackluster Galaxy.

It did manage to beat out the disappointing Amazing (2.6), IF (2.3), and the truly awful Gamma (1.5), however.

There were just two and a half pieces written by women (one was co-written) out of 58: 4.3%.  Surprisingly, the women-penned tales were all in the UK mags, which are usually all stag.  No women authors were included in either of the "All Star" Galaxy and F&SF issues this month, which is a real shame.  Where are Evelyn Smith and Margaret St. Clair?

Perhaps they are planning to return with a bang.  I certainly expect to herald their next stories with fireworks!



Looking for good science fiction by women?  Look no further than Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), the bestseller containing 14 of our favorite stories of the Journey era!




[September 20, 1965] Unfinished Business (October Fantasy and Science Fiction)


by Gideon Marcus

Leaving things hanging

There's something compelling about things left incomplete – from Schubert's Unfinished Symphony to President Kennedy's first term.  In the gaps of what could have been, we can fill in countless possibilities rather than just the one.

This month's Fantasy and Science Fiction (like this month's Galaxy, an "All-Star" anniverary issue) trades almost exclusively in incompletes, its pieces ending in ellipses dots rather than hard stops.

Does this make for an effective magazine?  Let's dig in and find out:

Beginnings…


by Chesley Bonestell

… And Call Me Conrad (Part 1 of 2), by Roger Zelazny

Hundreds of years from now, a war-ravaged, radiation-scoured Earth is little more than a colony of the blue-skinned Vegans who lease our planet out of historical curiosity.  Humanity is much reduced, confined to the former backwaters of civilization. 

Against this backdrop, we are introduced to Conrad Nomikos, head of the world's antiquities preservation bureau, who is tapped to escort a Vegan journalist as the alien gathers information for a travelogue of blasted Earth.

But there is far more to Conrad than he likes to let on.  Something of a rogue, and possessed of pretenatural strength, skills, and psychic abilities, he is actually Konstantin Karaghiosis – mutated into a Methusaleh by radiation and erstwhile leader of a radical anti-Vegan colonial movement that had, decades before, spiked Vegan ambitions to take all of Earth.

Now Conrad finds himself embroiled in multiple intertwined plots as the Vegan journalist becomes the target of an assassination attempt, his mission to Earth having a more significant goal than just a John Gunther volume.  Conrad, too, is personally imperiled, though who wants him dead and why are open questions.

This first part of a serial leaves off just as the second attempt on Conrad's life (if such they were; he cannot be certain) has failed.  It looks as if Conrad may well have to resume the revolutionary mantle of Konstantin to navigate the crisis.

Zelazny can sometimes be a tough pill for me to swallow.  One of the Journey's regular readers observed that he's done more than any current SF writer to bring Hemingway to our genre, and I feel that Roger sometimes trades readability for that stylistic choice.  That said, after a somewhat plodding beginning, the fleshed out background and advanced storyline becomes quite compelling.

Call it three stars for now, but with potential for the ending (if and when it come) to raise things retrospectively.

Mirror, Mirror, by Avram Davidson

Milquetoasty fan of A. Merritt spends his spare hours scouring local second-hand shops for jade mirrors with which to escape our reality into something more fantastical and swashbuckling.  What he doesn't count on is someone from another reality with a similar passion finding their way to his world.

As a premise, it's a fantastic mirror to works like The Incomplete Enchanter.  As a vignette, however, it suffers for an overlong beginning (relative to the length of the piece) and the lack of a real resolution.  In this case, unfinished means unsatisfying.

Three stars.


by Gahan Wilson

(here's a rather pointless doodle by Mr. Wilson, one that doesn't even pertain to our genre; the reason for its inclusion escapes me)

The Future, Its Promoters and False Prophets by E. Brandis and V. Dmitrevskiy, and
Replies by Poul Anderson and Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury and Mack Reynolds

Here's an interesting piece: a critique of American science fiction by two Soviets followed by replies by the authors specifically mentioned (including reference to Asimov's foreword to More Soviet Science Fiction).  It makes for a fascinating debate, one that is clearly ongoing.  I hope F&SF continues to cover it.

Five stars.

No Jokes on Mars, by James Blish

A journalist is sent to the Red Planet to check up on a colleague whose work has become perfunctory and cynical.  While on a tour of the Martian wilderness, her escorts poach a pomander from the pouch of a native dune-cat; the aromatic ball is of high value on Earth as a perfumed ornament, but its heist dooms the Martian creatures (who prove to be sentient) to a slow death.  Can she make it off Mars with the story?

It's a good story, but it suffers both for its 1950s depiction of Mars and the extremely sudden ending, which I ended up reading several times, wondering if I'd missed a paragraph or two somewhere.  Here, the unfinished nature left me wanting rather than dreaming.

Three stars.

The Glorious Fourth, by Jack Sharkey

Three astronauts from Earth land on an Eden teeming with an ecology so vigorous that its creatures refuse to die.  One of the crew, despairing of service under the martinet captain, goes native – literally.  And while the process is pleasant for him, the interaction between the remaining two and the planet's life forms is ultimately less enjoyable.

Jack Sharkey's byline is one I'm normally wary of, but he delivers a decent story here, and the vague ending, only hinting at the horrors the two spacemen will face (and the reason for their unpleasantness), is effective.

Three stars.

Minutes of A Meeting At The Mitre, by Robert F. Young

Old Nick meets Samuel Johnson.  With a punchline telegraphed from the beginning, the only motivation for this piece seems to be Young's desire to do a Boswell pastiche. 

Well, the story may have finished, but it's clear that the hoary "Deal with the Devil" subgenre of fantasy is not.

Two stars.

The Land of Mu, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor picks up where he left in his elementary physical particles, this time discussing the differences between electrons and mu mesons (muons).  It's an absolutely fascinating piece, and it's very clear from its conclusion that there is still so very much we don't know about the universe's tiniest components.

Five stars.

Something Else, by Robert J. Tilley

A punctilious, nature-hating music professor crashlands on a deserted planet with only a clarinet and box of jazz music spools to keep him company.  Well, not quite deserted: there is also a solitary shaggy alien with the ability to mimic music perfectly.  Thus begins an interspecies friendship.

Perhaps intentionally, the ultimate story in this collection does have a definite ending, which is sadly to its detriment.  Rather than building to some kind of revelatory peak offering some sort of interesting insight on the human condition, there is, instead, a pointless downer of a conclusion, better suited to a lesser episode of The Twilight Zone.  Tilley, the piece's author, is also about 20% more wordy than he needs to be.

Three stars.

Endings?

I would say that this month's reliance on the unfinished story had mixed results.  However, at the very least, I am now looking forward to the conclusion of the Zelazny piece; at most, I find my thoughts returning to the other uncertain endings, imagining the myriad outcomes that might have better resolved these otherwise unsettled lines.

Art reflects reality indeed!



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