Tag Archives: soviet

[March 18, 1967] From Both Sides of the Curtain (New Writings in S-F 10 & Path into the Unknown)


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

The House That Socialism Built

21 years ago this month, Winston Churchill gave his famous lecture “The Sinews of Peace” at Westminster College in Fulton, Missouri. Where he declared that:

From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Atlantic, an iron curtain has descended across the Continent…this is certainly not the Liberated Europe we fought to build up. Nor is it one which contains the essentials of the permanent peace.

The safety of the world requires a new unity in Europe, from which no nation should be permanently outcast.

Today Europe remains divided not just down the middle, but with the Northern states kept out of EEC, and right-wing dictatorships remaining in place on the Iberian Peninsula. However, so far warfare has remained largely absent from the continent and the debates within the Soviet Union do not seem all that different from those in Britain.

New council estate in Basford, England
New council estate in Basford, England

In the USSR, it has been announced 22 million people moved into new communal housing, but many of these higher paid workers are opting for new resident owned cooperatives instead. Whilst in England council house building has reached its highest level at 364,000, but that has been equalled by the boom in private housing.

New Khrushchyovkas in Moscow
New Khrushchyovkas in Moscow

Yet even with all this house building too many ordinary people have trouble getting a decent place to live. In Russia the necessity for putting up so many “Khrushchyovkas” is due to housing having been so poor for so long. In a survey in 1957, only 1% of the structures in Leningrad were given the highest rating by building inspectors, with more than half given the lowest. Whist in Kiev over 70% were given the lowest rating. In the UK the problem of the current housing crisis is perfectly illustrated by the harrowing recent film, Cathy Come Home.

Similar debates seem to be taking place in other areas, whether it is in as wages, healthcare and food prices. More and more it seems that sabre rattling and arguments over the best system of government are not dominating the headlines but, instead, how best to balance equality and pragmatism in the different economic systems.

With this alignment between the countries seemingly appearing, it is worth comparing two new anthologies, one from the UK and the other of writers from the USSR:

New Writings in S-F 10

New Writings in S-F 10

Carnell does not cite a theme for this collection, instead talking about breadth of ideas on display. For me, however, these all seem to be dealing with perspective and the nature of reality in some form. Unfortunately, these are not the best examples of this type of work.

The Imagination Trap by Colin Kapp

This is a sequel to Lambda One (which was also adapted for Out of the Unknown’s most recent season) where we get to see Bevis and Porter work on a new problem in Tau Research. Apparently not put off by the problems they encountered last time, a project is going ahead for “Deep Tau”, to use the same principle used to travel through inter atomic space within the Earth, to allow for a form of interstellar travel.

After last time, why would they agree to an almost suicidal trip into Deep Tau? On the Lambda II no less? Because of the titular 'imagination trap', which says that an expert in a field will always be compelled to follow a problem, no matter how dangerous to themselves. This kind of logic is the sort of thing which annoys me about this story, it continues to throw scientific mumbo-jumbo and ideas at you for almost 50 pages that don’t actually hold up to any scrutiny and expect you to go along with it.

My esteemed colleague Mr. Yon liked the original story significantly more than I did so there is clearly a market for what Colin Kapp is trying to do. But for me I will only give it two stars.

Apple by John Baxter

As a result of an unspecified war, all humans are now really tiny. Billings is a Moth Killer who goes into the tunnels inside an apple to slay the insect.

These kind of perspective stories have been with us throughout science fiction’s existence. From Voltaire’s Micromegas, through A. Bertram Chandler’s Giant Killer to Doctor Who: Planet of the Giants. And whilst this is very descriptive, I don’t see what this adds to the millions of other tales of this type.

Two Stars

Robot's Dozen by G. L. Lack

Unfortunately, G. L Lack continues to live up to their name with another disappointing story. In epistolary mode, we learn that Arthur Willis of Bath hires a robot duplicate of himself to watch his house whilst he is on holiday. The robot apparently takes to staring at the neighbours and so Arthur is forced to hire the robot again to prove it was not him. However, the robot rather insists on staying.

An obvious tale where the ending can be seen coming from the first paragraph.

Two Stars

Birth of a Butterfly by Joseph Green

For a century, humans have been exploring the galaxy trying to find intelligent life without success. However, it is a child travelling with his parents that discovers a unique form of intelligent life, small sentient stars that seem to resemble butterflies.

This could easily have been unreadable, but it ends up being a fascinating look at first contact with a totally alien form of intelligence and a rather sweet set of family dynamics. If nothing else, a definite relief after the first half of this anthology.

Four Stars

The Affluence of Edwin Lollard by Thomas M. Disch

Mr. Disch’s recent trip to England certainly seems to have been a success in terms of sales, for here is yet another tale from him appearing in a British publication. Unfortunately for us, this is not one of his best.

We follow the trial of the titular Edwin Lollard, who has fallen in love with the idea of poverty and a simple life of reading. However, in an affluent society obsessed with consumption this is hard to achieve and has to go to great lengths to try to get it.

This is the kind of dystopic satire I would expect to read a decade ago. You can see echoes of it in Brave New World, The Midas Plague, Fahrenheit 451 and a dozen similar works. The twist in the tale and courtroom proceedings aren’t bad but I cannot give it more than two stars.

A Taste for Dostoevsky by Brian W. Aldiss

Always a delight to see something new from Aldiss as, even if not successful, it will usually be different. This is a very strange type of time travel tale where someone seems to be jumping between different bodies throughout history or into alternative histories. Or possibly he is just an actor getting so involved in his roles he cannot determine the difference between fact or fiction?

This is certainly interesting, but I am also not sure what to make of it. Possibly if I was more a fan of Dostoevsky and familiar with the Freudian analysis of the texts that it seems to draw from I would possibly understand better what Aldiss was trying to say. Add into that that his attempts to explore ideas of race in it end up coming off as clumsy rather than profound, it ends up being a more middling tale to me.

Three Stars

Image of Destruction by John Rankine

Dag Fletcher first appeared in the opening two volumes of New Writings, but his subsequent adventures have been published in novel format. This picks up some time later in the series where Dag is now the chairman of Northern Hemisphere Corporation and is doing more work from behind a desk. The Interstellar Three-Four, captained by Neal Banister, is sent to Sabzius, a planet where the Commissar has recently disappeared. In order to oversee the situation, Dag heads to Sabzius with a skeleton crew.

This is 47 pages long, but it felt to me like 300. The prose was like wading through treacle and the story just kept dragging on. This could have been the kind of tense political thriller I enjoy but it didn’t go anywhere interesting and I failed to see any point to it.

I found the original stories dull and old fashioned so have not bought any of the continuing tales. This has not changed my opinion on this series.

One Star

So not such a good score from the capitalist society. Let’s see if the communist one can do any better:

Path into the Unknown: the best Soviet SF

Path into the Unknown: The best Soviet SF

The Conflict by Ilya Varshavsky

In a society where intelligent robots are employed as nannies, Martha feels threatened that her son Eric seems to prefer the robotic helper Cybella.

This is the kind of satirical vignette you would see as a space filler in F&SF. Add in that it is all layered with messages about a woman’s role and maternal instincts, and I found this to be a very poor start to the anthology.

One Star

Robby by Ilya Varshavsky

Another android tale from the same author. Here the narrator relates how he was given a self-teaching robot, Robby, on his fiftieth birthday, which he tries to use for household chores. However, it proves too literal minded for the tasks, cleaning shoes with jam if not given exact Cartesian coordinates or being unable to divide a cake into three because of recurring decimals. As Robby learns more about humans, he becomes increasingly difficult to live with.

This is a slightly longer story than the previous piece but no better. It is an incredibly simplistic machine logic narrative, more one I would expect in a children’s comic strip than as a piece of adult science fiction.

One Star

Meeting My Brother by Vitaly Krapivin

Three hundred years ago the Magellan photon space cruiser, captained by Alexandr Sneg, set off for another star system hoping to find an earth-like planet. They were never heard from again and assumed to be lost.

One of Alexandr’s descendants, Naal Sneg, is an orphan who sees the ship returning. With time only passing at one tenth the speed in cosmic space, Naal hopes to meet his ancestor and gain a brother he never had.

This is a slow meditative story, told in multiple parts, covering different facets of the tale to uncover the whole truth. I really liked it, if Robby feels like a story from a children’s comic, this feels like a strong novelette from Impulse.

Four stars

A Day of Wrath by Sever Gansovsky

A secluded laboratory developed a new kind of creature, the bear-like Otarks. They have a high degree of logic and intelligence but lack compassion, so will think nothing of attacking children, if the risk is not high, or just eating each other when hungry. Journalist Donald Belty is sent to investigate these creatures and to see whether they qualify as human.

This is an odd story. It is quite an engaging piece as it goes along but I struggle to understand quite what the point of it is. A criticism of unfeeling science, a satire on capitalism, or just a supposition extrapolated out? Whatever it is, the ending left me feeling quite uneasy and I am not sure if the author intended that or not.

A low three stars

An Emergency Case by Arkady Strugatsky & Boris Strugatsky

The Strugatsky Brothers will be familiar to long time journey readers as we have covered their material twice before. This is first of two tales dealing with alien life.

After dropping off supplies to Titan, Victor Borisovich discovers a fly on board their ship. Initially the crew are uninterested but when Malyshev, the ship’s biologist, recognises it has eight legs he realizes it is an undiscovered extra-terrestrial life form. Soon, though, the ship is overrun in these flies which seem to be resistant to insecticide. Can they contain or destroy them before the crew runs out of air?

Once you accept the unlikely life form they encounter, it is quite exciting monster science story that reminded me a bit of Vogt's Space Beagle tales. What lifted it up more is the excellent character work done, where each of the scientists has their own personality and are believable individuals in a small space of time.

A strong three stars

Wanderers and Travellers by Arkady Strugatsky

This is predominantly a conversational piece. Stanislav Ivanovich and his daughter Masha are marking Septapods, a type of freshwater cephalopod, with a supersonic tracking device to try understand their behaviours. They meet an astro-archaeologist, Leonid Andreevich, who tells them about the problem of “the Voice of Empty Space”, an impossible sound that is picked up by auto-wirelesses on space voyages.

I feel like there are some interesting ideas touched on here, but it doesn’t really go anywhere, except to suggest that the universe is perhaps illogical and unknowable. If that is the point, I believe it could be presented in more interesting ways than as a trialogue.

Two Stars

The Boy by G. Gor

A surprisingly intelligent schoolboy named Gromov writes the stories of the sole child on a long interstellar voyage. When these are read out to the class, all the other students highly entertained by them, but are they just fiction? Or do they have some connection to his father’s discoveries of alien artifacts.

This is an incredibly complicated piece of fiction involving narratives about narratives, theoretical physics, music, identity and perspective. And yet, it is also a story of friendship, where two lonely children form a bond. Really impressed with this and I hope more works from this author are translated soon.

Five stars

The Purple Mummy by Anatoly Dnepov

An interstellar signal has been decoded and used to reconstruct what appears to be the body of a woman albeit all in purple. The head of the Museum of Regional Studies in Leninisk comes to Moscow and shows the team holding the mummy that (apart from the colour) it is the mirror image of his wife. This appears to prove the theory that this signal came from a mirror universe of anti-matter, and it may also contain the secret of how to save his wife’s life.

As you might expect from the title, this reads like one of reprints from the Gernsback era you might find in Amazing or Famous these days. Even discarding how nonsensical it all is, no one’s reactions felt realistic to me and the plot with the illness is poorly handled.

One Star

Two systems, similar problems

Brezhnev Dancing
Brezhnev, dancing for joy at Soviet success

Whilst this represents an overall win for Soviet architecture, in this case, both collections have their highs and lows, and there are definite areas for improvement. We will have to see if the next releases from either the UK or the USSR can build better structures.



[December 10, 1965] For the People, By the People The Makepeace Experiment, by Andrei Sinyavsky


by Margarita Mospanova

Long time no read, dear readers!

My dearly beloved, but monumentally aggravating home country has once again done what it has been doing since its unfortunate conception — the USSR has arrested another pair of writers that happened to disagree with some of its tenets. The court has yet to pass judgement but there is very little doubt the case will not go in favor of the accused, even despite the very public demonstration in Moscow in their defense on December 5.

Andrei Sinyavsky

Andrei Sinyavsky, who some of you might know under the name of Abram Tertz, is a prolific Russian writer and literary critic. He has published some of his works in the West due to their… stylistic differences compared to the usual sort of literature permitted in the USSR.

The demonstration in support of Andrei Sinyavsky and Yuli Daniel

As such, I thought it would be appropriate to review one of his fantastical novellas.

Lyubimov or The Makepeace Experiment is an allegorical story about Leonid Tikhomirov (Lenny Makepeace) and a small town of Lyubimov. Lenny starts out as a simple bicycle repairman who falls in love with a new school teacher in town, Serafima. Serafima spurns his affection, saying he is too unambitious and unimportant for her. In despair, Lenny ransacks the local library, trying to find a way to improve himself, until he comes across an old tome containing the secret to mind control.

Yes, dear readers. Mind control. I was surprised, too.

Armed with that new power, he gains control over Lyubimov, forces Serafima to marry him, and attempts to create a veritable communist utopia in his town while cutting all ties to the USSR. Spoiler: he fails. And fails spectacularly.

So does the Soviet military while trying to retake the town, but at least that is expected in a story like this.

The novella, while absurdist, is also a political satire and commentary on human nature, rational versus irrational, and the dangers of the cult of personality. Unsurprisingly, it’s one of the reasons for the author’s arrest.

While the protagonist of Lyubimov is undoubtedly Lenny, the story is told to us by the town’s librarian (who becomes Lenny’s assistant) and commented upon by the librarian’s ancestor (a disembodied ghost who sometimes hijacks the narrative completely) through rather amusing footnotes. In the beginning the humor had me in stitches, even reminding me of Gogol sometimes. Sharp, cutting, and borderline sarcastic, it added richness to an otherwise not particularly compelling plot. Unfortunately, the farther in we got, the more jumbled the text itself became. It might have been on purpose, but it was hard to tell.

Still, the footnotes where the narrator argues with his ancestor about how to start the story or the scenes where Lenny makes the whole town see mineral water as pure alcohol or toothpaste as vobla paste were pretty funny. So was the way the Soviet military attempted to disguise itself to get into Lyubimov.

Vobla. For those of you who have no idea what vobla paste is.

It is a pity that most of the humor was lost in translation, as far as I could tell. The style of the original text was incredibly informal, almost folksy, which added to the absurdism of the whole mind controlled utopia situation, but I saw practically none of that in the translated version. That is not to say that the translation is bad, exactly. It is functional. However, it could be better.

The same could be said about the story itself. It could be better. As I said earlier, it started off well enough. But by the time the plot got to the middle of the book it was so meandering and vague it was hard to pay attention to the characters. The abundance of metaphors and allegories did not help matters.

The core ideas do still come through loud and clear, but I would have preferred them to be adorned in something I didn’t need to muddle through on the way over. By the end of the book I was actually looking to when I could turn the last page and finally say goodbye to it. It is certainly not something I would ever pick up on a whim to reread. Which is, again, a pity, since the first few chapters were incredibly enjoyable.

Another thing that made me grimace with disappointment was female characters. The novella has only three types: superstitious old women, harlots, or stupid peasants. Not the best combination at the best of times. Even Serafima, Lenny’s wife, is depicted as a harlot who our main hero is trying to mold into a respectable woman. Watching him get jealous over Serafima’s past lovers was not pleasant. Or, really, all that necessary to the plot or the characters’ development, now that I think about it.

That is not to say that the male characters are all the shining examples of intellect and nobility, but they are all somewhat sympathetic. The narrator is probably the only one that can be categorized as a good man. But at least the men are not cardboard cutouts of the worst stereotypes in literature.

So, to summarize. Does the book work as intended political satire? Yes. Do I recommend it to those interested in the subject? Yes. Do I recommend it to anyone just looking to have a good time? A definite no.

Additional warning for an extremely non consensual nature of the relationship between Lenny and Serafima which includes some very degrading and upsetting scenes. Mind control is not a healthy basis for a successful marriage; please remember that, folks.

I give Lyubimov a very generous two red stars.






[September 4, 1964] (The Soviet novella, From Beyond)


by Margarita Mospanova

Imagine a picture, dear readers. It’s a rainy day, the light coming in from the windows dark and heavy. You have a day off work and there’s nothing requiring your immediate attention. You make yourself a cup of tea or a mug of coffee and drag your favorite chair to the nearest window. Turn to the bookshelf to grab that novel that you’ve been dying to read but couldn’t find the time to and… several minutes later realize that you’ve been stuck on the first page for a while. You sigh, take a sip of something tasty, and force yourself to muddle through. And yet, the magic of the day is gone, the perfect atmosphere is gone, the enthusiasm for a new book is gone. The novel lies half open on your knees, its pages crinkling softly in protest, and, unreasonably irritated by the whisper of the rain outside, you resign yourself to another wasted day.

Well. That got pretty dark pretty fast. But because that’s happened to me more than once in the past, I now keep a stack of perfect remedies right by the chair. Novels are too long, short stories are, as you might guess, too short, but novellas and novelettes are ideal for when you want to relax for an hour or two but have no desire to commit yourself to something really time-consuming.

And the latest novella I had the pleasure of reading came from the authors easily recognized by our most attentive readers. From Beyond by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky (From the Outside, Strangers, or whatever title the eventual translated edition will bear) started as a small short story and was later reworked into the novella first published in 1960.

Composed of three parts, the story follows professor Lozovsky, an archeologist leading an excavation site in Tajikistan. But each part has its own narrator: a military officer on a camping trip, a scientist from the excavation site, and finally the professor himself.

The structure of the novella deserves a separate mention because not only it is divided by characters and places, but it is also not set chronologically. Which, to my experience, does not happen as often as I would like, being a fan of experimental fiction myself. The first story actually deals with the very end of the professor’s journey and reads a bit like horror to boot!

And for each character the Strugatskys create a completely unique voice which adds a different mood for each chapter. The somewhat direct and down-to-earth officer leads us from a simple hiking trip on a sleeping volcano to a mysterious night encounter with a mad man. The scientist recounts the events in a dry and somewhat formal manner, sticking to facts and nothing but facts. And the professor is a bit naive and as enthusiastic as a child in a candy-shop, which makes his dedication and commitment to science all the more apparent.

All three parts of the novella deal with a first-contact scenario. Or rather a version of it, where humans are not supposed to be a part of the action, so to speak. The novella is fairly short and I do not see a reason to divulge all the details and completely spoil the plot for you, dear readers, but some things are just too good to ignore. As such I will allow myself to gush over one small, but still very much story-relevant part of the novella:

It has a space zoo in it! These two simple words are usually a surefire way for me to completely fall in love with whatever they appear inside. And this novella did not let me down. The zoo was probably my favorite part of it, if I have to choose. Yes, some of the details are a bit hard to believe. Yes, there are plenty of things to nitpick from the science side of things. But let’s be honest here. It’s a space zoo. Very little matters compared to that.

I have to admit that out of all the Soviet science fiction writers the Strugatsky brothers are fast becoming my favorites. So far, most of what I’ve read from them are short stories and I’ve been ready to move onto something bigger for a while now. As such, I am very glad I managed to get my hands on this novella.

No matter the subject, Strugatskys’ characters turn out alive and exceptionally well fleshed out. With just a few word strokes, they paint a picture so vivid, it is better than many a movie I had to suffer through in the past.

And so, it is my great pleasure to award From Beyond by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky five flying tigers out of five.

(Space zoo in zero gravity, dear readers. The tigers aren’t the only ones flying in this one.)


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[Apr. 4, 1964] A taste of brine (the book and movie, The Amphibian)


by Margarita Mospanova

In every reader’s life there comes a time which we all dread. A time we try to forget as soon as it happens. A time when we finish reading a book that by all accounts should be a delight but that instead bores us to tears and makes us wish time travel was real just so we could go back in time and skip the experience altogether.

And sadly, dear readers, that is exactly what happened to me when I turned the last page of The Amphibian.

But first things first.

The novel was written by Alexander Beliaev in 1927 and published just a year later, first in a magazine, and then as a stand-alone book. It was published in English in 1962 by Moscow’s Foreign Languages Publishing House.

The story is set in Argentina and follows Ichthyander, an adopted son of a world-renowned surgeon, Salvator. When he was but an infant, Ichthyander was very ill and to save his life Salvator transplanted a set of shark gills onto him, giving his son the ability to breathe underwater. Hence the name, as the parts of it come from Ancient Greek, translating to “fish” and “man”. The pair live a fairly idyllic life in large mansion, the father treating locals and the son spending much of his time playing in the ocean.

However, as Ichthyander grows older, he become more reckless, attacking Argentinian fishermen and returning their hauls back to the water. Until one day, one of the local pearl gatherers, Pedro Zurita, sees him, and realizing the boy’s potential as a pearl diver, tries to catch him.

That doesn’t sound too bad, you might say. And you would be right, the plot looks quite interesting. In theory. In practice, the story has been flung head first against a truly horrendous writing style, flat characters, and unnatural dialogues.

The Russian text reads like a badly done translation. It is all the more unfortunate, when the rest of Beliaev’s books (at least the ones I’m familiar with) are written perfectly well. I suppose the author wanted to mimic the often more abrupt style favored by Western writers, but if so, he failed. And failed spectacularly.

Therefore, it will not come as a surprise when I say: read the book in English. Ignore the original Russian text and skip right to the translated version. I dare say, you will find yourselves much more satisfied with the book than I did.

Still, there were a couple of passages, all of them describing nature, the ocean specifically, that hinted at what the book might have been had the prose been more… engaging. But they were few and far between.

Out of all the characters the only ones that had at least a small spark of life in them were Baltasar, Zurita’s right hand and the father of Ichthyander’s love interest (don’t start me on that particular train wreck), and Zurita’s mother, a cranky old woman. The rest were blander than cardboard.

(You might have noticed – I really didn’t like the book.)

And now we come to the crux of the problem. The book was bad. Why would I, or anyone else for that matter, bother to read it?

And the answer, dear readers, is that in 1962 it was made into one of the best movies I’ve ever seen in my life.

The Amphibian Man turned flat and uninteresting characters into real people, dry prose into stunning visuals. It has you gripping the edges of your seat, from the beginning to the very end. You fret over Ichthyander’s naive and innocent nature, tie yourself into conflicted knots over don Pedro’s actions, empathize with Salvator, and curse the cruel Argentinian policemen.

This is a movie that, I’m sure, we will be watching even after the turn of the second millennium, no matter how optimistic that sounds.

And The Amphibian is the book that made it possible. That alone turns it into a worthy read, even if nothing else does. That is why, at the end of it, I give The Amphibian one bookish and five cinematic stars out of five.

(Now go watch the movie!)

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[November 11, 1963] An integral future (Yevgeny Zamyatin's We)


by Margarita Mospanova

Hello, dear readers!

Do you have books that you’ve always wanted to read but never got the chance to? Books that you’ve heard so much about they’ve long since made their place in your bookish plans and budgets, but haven’t quite managed to reach your hands?

The reason these books remain unopened still might be lack of time. Not quite full wallet. Or simply their absence from the nearest bookstore. But in my case, the reason often was censorship.

It won’t come as a surprise to many of you, but being a published author in the USSR almost unfailingly meant having to obey various rules and regulations of the people in power, written or unwritten. As such, many of the titles that I undoubtedly would have greatly enjoyed at the time were rebuffed by the editors before they even saw the light of day.

Now that I no longer reside in the Soviet Union, obtaining Soviet books is even harder. However, some of them were fortunate enough to trickle through the borders, with or without their authors. And here we come to the subject of this humble review.

We by Yevgeny Zamyatin written in 1921 and first published in English in 1924 in New York, is still very much forbidden in USSR. The original Russian edition only came out in 1952 and, again, only in New York.

Having read the book, I can certainly see why.

The story is set far in the future, at least a thousand years or more, with the world having been conquered by a so called United State. As the name implies, there are no other countries or nations, though that might be attributed to the fact that a war wiped out more than 99% of the planet’s population several centuries earlier.

Curiously enough, though perhaps not unexpectedly at all, the war was fought over food and resulted in the creation of a petroleum-based substance that took its place on the people’s plates. The more conventional meals were slowly forgotten.

The nation, meanwhile, is governed by a single person, called the Well-Doer, who is overly fond of mass surveillance and standardizing his subjects. Names have been replaced by given numbers. People live in glass, completely transparent, apartments, and cannot draw down the curtains unless they have, ah, received the pink permission slip. Yes, it means exactly what you think it means.

When they go to sleep, they no longer dream, as dreaming is an illness and has been cured long ago. At breakfast, they chew exactly 50 times per each bite. On the streets, they move as one, marching in lines, wearing the same uniforms. Confusing emotions and imagination gave way to logic and reason. To formulae, equations, and science. There is no freedom. The people are happy.

They are also planning to build a space rocket (with the appropriate mathematical name, "The Integral") to share their way of life with any extraterrestrial life forms they might encounter.

The story follows one of the lead builders working on the rocket. A model citizen, D-503, decides to start a journal, depicting his daily life and thoughts, and then put it onto the rocket. Enlighten the aliens, so to speak.


the author

I will let you, dear readers, read for yourself exactly what we learn through each of D-503’s entries, but suffice it to say, action, drama, and (really, really awkward) romance abound. As well as, at times, rather confused ramblings of a man who has never before been confronted with illogical feelings.

Naturally, I read the novel in Russian. However, I did take time to peruse the 1924 English translation as well. On its own, it seems to be a fairly good read, but I’m afraid it falls somewhat short of the source. In the Russian We the writing is uneven, full of short bursts and ragged edges, that seem to be smoothed or faded when one opens up the English copy. And I’m not talking about the length of the sentences, but rather the structure and choice of words. Still, that slight demerit only really matters if one makes it a point to compare the two versions. If you have the chance (and ability) read it in Russian. Otherwise, the English copy will serve perfectly well.

The style of prose itself is very much in tune with the character, never straying too far from what we might expect, and yet delivering a gripping account of D-503’s deconstruction of his own world. The contrast between the mathematical precision of some parts and emotional upheavals of the others works nicely to highlight the faults of the world Zamyatin built.

Despite the bleakness and sheer uniformness of the United State, the characters we meet throughout the novel are vibrant and very much alive. Every single one of them has something to say, and every single one of them is worth listening to. The characters are the novel’s strongest side, and after finishing the book, I caught myself wanting to know what happens to them next.

In fact, the characters have quite possibly outshone any and all possible allusions to USSR and its problems for me. The satire and criticisms are plain, don’t get me wrong, but considering that Zamyatin wrote the book when the Soviet Union was only in its infancy, the impression they left with me is not quite as deep as one might expect. 

I greatly enjoyed We, for all its dystopian gloominess. This is a book that has now become a permanent fixture on my bookshelves and I foresee many rereads in its future. And so, dear readers, I invite you to try it out for yourselves. I promise it will not disappoint.

I give “We” by Yevgeny Zamyatin five integrals out of five. 




[August 18, 1963] The Grass is Redder in the Future (Yefremov's Andromeda: A Space Age Tale)

[The Journey always delights at the opportunity to broaden its coverage of current science fiction.  So you can imagine how blessed we felt when we discovered a stunning new talent fresh from the city of Leningrad.  We are certain you will enjoy what we hope will be the first of many articles from 'Rita…]


by Margarita Mospanova

A journey of a thousand books begins with a single page, a single sentence, a single word. And happy is the reader that can travel more than one language in his lifetime. Often, your journey happens without you taking a single step, but sometimes it can lead you halfway around the world, a single suitcase and a loudly hammering heart in tow.

The Iron Curtain may not be a physical thing but it is a perfectly tangible one nevertheless. Especially when you’ve lived your whole life on the Soviet soil and the thin trickle of Western literature could hardly slake your bookish thirst for science fiction and fantasy.

So, dear readers, you can imagine my joy when I first stepped off the ship in an American harbor and felt my literal literary horizon expanding before my eyes. A friend of a friend of a friend, that so courteously provided me with lodgings while I tried to get my wits around me and carve myself a piece of Western life, had only been too happy to encourage me.

I have to confess that in beginning I practically devoured the bookshops, without much care to what I read as long as it was halfway interesting. But that initial fever has long since faded and, several new favorite books richer, I can now take a breath and approach the shelves at a more sedate pace.

And in a corner of a small bookshop of which I have a particular fondness, I encountered several copies of this very magazine that you’re holding in your hands right now. Delighted, I read them almost in one sitting and wrote to the editor to express my appreciation. A short and exciting exchange later, I was asked to share my thoughts on the state of Soviet science fiction.

Oh my, I thought. That would be easy, I thought. There are so many to choose from, I thought.

Well, dear readers, I’m very unhappy so say that reality does so like to burn and salt the bridge before you can even step on it. Because while Soviet science fiction and fantasy books are indeed many, the number of them translated into English is… far from desirable.

Still, Lady Fortuna was on my side. The same friend that welcomed me to America has managed to procure a translated edition of Andromeda: A Space Age Tale by Ivan Yefremov, a book I finished reading just before my rather unplanned one way journey to the west.

Almost a year ago, the Journey covered a collection of short stories by Soviet authors, featuring The Heart of the Serpent also by Ivan Yefremov. Both stories belong to the same universe, and while the timing is a bit tricky, Andromeda seems to be set slightly earlier. The novel was first published in 1957 and later translated into English in 1959 by George Hanna and printed by Moscow’s Foreign Language Publishing House. And despite my expectations, the translation itself is done fairly close to the original text, retaining its slightly cumbersome style.

The story, while not quite action driven, still has a few tense moments that might have you gripping the pages in excitement. But overall the author focuses more on the social and cultural sides of his characters’ lives, preferring to use the future Communist utopia as a background for various social and philosophical issues.

It has been several millennia since our time and the world has changed. Earth has joined the Great Circle, a collection of sentient races capable of space travel and communication, but more often than not, not yet advanced enough to meet their neighbours face to face. The spaceship travel takes centuries and faster than light speeds are still out of the scientists’ grasp.

One of the plot lines follows the crew of a spaceship sent to investigate another planet after it goes into complete and sudden radio silence. On the way back home they run out of fuel and have to make an emergency landing on a planet shrouded in heavy darkness.

I will refrain from spoiling their struggle for survival, but will say that for me that part of the novel is easily the most engaging. But that is most likely my fascination with horror stories rearing its misshapen head.

The second plot line is centered around the Director of the Outer Stations of the Great Circle (a mouthful, that’s for sure) and his life after he leaves the post to his successor and struggles to find a new job for himself. His deep and enduring love for space makes the search much more difficult than it might seem at the first glance.

The cast of principle characters also includes a historian that is also an archaeologist, a psychiatrist, a scientist, and a biologist.


In the preface the author warns the reader that the novel is full to the brim with science terms, ideas, and details. And, boy, he wasn’t kidding. If anything, he understated the technical aspects of the book. The characters spend almost half of the book going on various science-themed tangents or engaging in discussions of philosophy, sociology, or how the grass was definitely not greener back in our times.

Still, the world Yefremov built is wonderfully bright and optimistic. Despite my… differences with the regime of my home, Andromeda’s future is one I would be happy to live in.

The novel’s greatest strength and its greatest weakness, in my opinion, is its extreme attention to details. It is easy to get buried under all the little things Yefremov includes to paint the future, but the same small brush strokes eventually form a rich and fascinating world, that I, for one, would grab a chance to explore.

And I advise you to do the same. Andromeda is a book that might leave you with mixed feelings, but it will not let you remain unaffected. It challenges you to think and evaluate the world we live in today, draw your own conclusions, and imagine what your own utopian future might look like.

I give Andromeda: A Space-Age Tale four iron stars out of five.




[Sep. 15, 1962] Communist Defector (Roger Corman's Battle Beyond the Sun)

[if you’re new to the Journey, read this to see what we’re all about!]


by Gideon Marcus

Roger Corman, the Savant of Schlock is back with a most unusual motion picture.  With incredible puissance, Corman stretches a dime such that he makes "A" quality out of "B" films (q.v. House of Usher, Little Shop of Horrors, Panic in Year Zero, etc.) But Corman takes a different tack with his latest flick, Battle Beyond the Sun.  From what I've read, it was originally a Soviet film, which Corman then redubbed and edited for American consumption.  The result is…interesting, and not an unrewarding experience.

The film begins with a somewhat non sequitur narrated sequence displaying a host of spacecraft models.  These are of current and futuristic design.  While a pretty sequence, it is better suited to one of the NASA documentary films you see on TV.  The rather ponderous narration continues as the setting is introduced: in the near future, an atomic war devastates the planet and erases political boundaries.  Once the Earth recovers, it is divided into two rival states: North Hemis and South Hemis.  Interestingly, the former includes what was once the United States, the United Kingdom, and the Soviet Union.  The latter comprises latin Europe, South America, Africa, and most of Asia.

Now it is 1997, and both nations are on the verge of sending a manned mission to Mars.  The South Hemis spaceship Mercury, docked at the orbiting station, Angkor, is undergoing final preparations when a distress call is received.  It is a North Hemis spacecraft, the Typhoon, in need of repair.  The Angkor personnel, apolitical in their devotion to science, open their airlocks to their distressed adversaries. 

But when the North Hemisians learn of the Mercury's impending flight, they foolhardily depart with their half-fixed vessel in an attempt to reach the Red Planet first.  They run afoul of the sun's magnetic field along the way, crippling the ship and leaving it in a helpless spiral toward extinction. 

Of course, the self-sacrificing and noble South Hemisians cannot let the Typhoon's crew die, no matter their treachery.  So begins an exciting adventure as the Mercury sails off to rescue the Typhoon, finds itself in need of saving, too, ultimate success resting in the hands of a third, prototype spaceship.  Will they make it to Mars?  Can they get back?  You'll have to watch and find out.

The most striking aspects of this film stem from its Soviet provenance.  I recently reviewed the volume, More Soviet Science Fiction, and I note Battle shares the same grand stateliness with the first story of that collection.  Everything is larger than life.  The Director of Spaceflight sits virtually alone in an enormous control room, her voice echoing in the chamber.  Launchpads are giant, austere things.  The final scene is a sweeping pageant of clamoring humanity. 

There is, of course, the lackluster dubbing (par for the course if you've watched Japanese imports), and I imagine we lose a bit of the original plot.  But I was impressed with the lack of political bias.  Battle is a tale of the community of science winning out over personal or national ambition.  It was clearly a high budget film, with excellent use of matting, fine modelwork, and stunning costumes.

Technologically, it's a big of a mixed bag.  I liked the fact that ships had to turn over to decelerate, and I was impressed with the way the astronauts' couches reclined to always be perpendicular to the direction of thrust.  The filmmakers were obviously impressed with this effect, too — it gets shown a lot

In the demerits department, we have the fact that ships sail across the solar system in what appears to be a matter of hours.  With engines that powerful, one wonders how it's taken so long to get a person to Mars.  Also, the superfluous mid-movie fight between purple space monsters, advertised heavily in the trailers, is both nonsensical and was clearly created in post-production as a way to jazz up the film.

But the movie doesn't need it.  I fully expected Battle to be a ponderous mess, but it actually moves along quite nicely.  It was certainly much better than the Italian flick, Assignment: Outer Space

Three stars, and a keen desire to someday see the original.


by Lorelei Marcus

Strap in and recline your seats, because we're going on a space adventure! This week me and my father watched, “Battle Beyond the Sun,” a Soviet science fiction film brought to the U.S. I didn't have very high hopes going into this movie, but my dad promised purple space monsters, so, reluctantly, I agreed.

Surprisingly, the movie wasn't bad! It was actually quite interesting to compare a Soviet film to the (mostly) American films we've watched so far. The cinematography was different, but still quite good, and the space suits looked cool and realistic. The voice actors who did the overdub for the movie were sub-par to say the least, but it didn't take away from the movie too much. I noticed throughout the movie that all the actors had a certain 'closeness:' they were all simply closer together: Their faces were closer when talking, they had hands on each others' shoulders, etc. That's certainly different from the wide personal bubble we Americans prefer.

The story, on the other hand, wasn't too far off from what I would expect in a science fiction film. The movie was about the two halves of the globe, North Hemis and South Hemis, and their race to Mars. The South Hemis ship gets stranded on an asteroid orbiting mars, after rescuing the North Hemis ship. Then there's the odd and unnecessary scene of the purple space monsters fighting each other, which apparently wasn't added in until it made it to the U.S. It was really unnecessary, but I suppose it did get me to the watch the movie!

For most of the movie me and my dad thought that the U.S. And Soviet Union were in different nations. It wasn't until after the movie that we realized it was actually the opposite: Soviet Union and America in the North, and basically everyone else in the South. It struck me that they had purposefully done this to avoid labeling political sides, which was not something I would expect the Soviet Union would do!

Overall this was a pretty good movie. The effects were cool and the story was passable. The foreign influence also added a unique feel to the movie. I give this movie 3/5 stars and 1/5 purple space monsters (this movie either needed more or fewer purple space monsters.) I still recommend you watch this movie yourself, as it is an interesting contrast to the other science fiction movies I've seen so far.

Until next time…this is the Young Traveler, signing off.




[July 24, 1962] Comrade Future (More Soviet Science Fiction)

[if you’re new to the Journey, read this to see what we’re all about!]


by Gideon Marcus

We hear a lot about the Soviet Union these days, but usually in the form of an unflattering cartoon of Premier Khruschev or photos of people trying to defect from Communism.  Occasionally a hopeful reprinting last year's meeting between Jack and Niki in Vienna or a scornful reprinting of Khruschev banging his shoe on the United Nations podium.

If we think about the Soviet people, head-scarfed Babushkas, gray-suited apparatchiks, uniformed goose-stepping soldiers, and accordion-playing dancers come to mind.  We just don't get many glimpses from behind the Iron Curtain.  So when we do get a peek, it's an exciting opportunity.  For instance, Time-Life just released a new picture-book on Russia, which sheds a little light on a hidden section of the world.

Another surprise is a new collection of Soviet science fiction called (appropriately enough) More Soviet Science Fiction

This book, along with the anthology's predecessor and the occasional Josef Svebada reprint in Fantasy and Science Fiction, comprises all of the Eastern Bloc sf literature available in English.  As such, it's difficult to determine if these stories are representative of Soviet sf as a whole, or rather cherry-picked for their intended audience.  There are some commonalities that are suggestive either of a Soviet style, or at least what the editor thinks would appeal to foreigners.  Certainly, there is a kind of mild clunkyness one comes to expect from a less than expert translation, though it never detracts seriously from the reading.  Rather, it just accentuates the foreign nature of the material.

Another universal aspect is the emphasis on explaining the science.  Fully a page or two of each story gets extremely technical; the Soviets eschew more integrated scientific exposition.  It's almost as if laying out their case in full is a requirement of publication. 

Finally, all of the stories have an edifying component.  They are all parables – whatever entertainment value they may provide, you are supposed to learn from them.  The lessons they teach tell you a lot about the teacher culture.

There are five stories, the first comprising more than half of the book:

The Heart of the Serpent, by Ivan Yefremov

Seven hundred years in the future, humanity's first faster-than-light ship embarks on a mission to explore Cor Serpentis, a giant orange star 74 light years from Earth.  The time dilation consequences of the ship's hyperdrive mean that hundreds of years will pass back home before the crew returns.  Yet, the demographically balanced team of enlightened Communists are stoically resigned to doing their duty in service to their species' destiny.

On the way to their destination, they chance upon an alien vessel.  As extraterrestrials had been theoretical until that point, this promises to be the most significant discovery in the history of space travel.  The crew discuss at length what they expect to find.  One camp believes that two different planets couldn't possibly produce similar beings.  Another feels that the human form is the natural end-point of evolution, much as Communism is the inevitable destination for all societies.

I'll let you guess which guess is right…

I do appreciate the overwhelming positivity of the encounter, in contrast to other stories (Yefremov specifically calls out Murray Leinster's classic, First Contact).  And there is a stately beauty to the piece.  The spaceship and its mission are depicted with a spare elegance that feels futuristic.

Siema, by Anatoly Dnieprov

The most old-fashioned of the pieces is a bit of Pygmalion gone wrong.  An engineer constructs a brilliant robot whose computing power is such that she (it takes on the female gender) becomes a sentient being.  A rather obsessed creature with an unquenchable desire for knowledge untempered by any tinge of morality.  But if this electric Pinocchio can just get a conscience, all will be well.

It is a cute tale that will make you smile, but the lesson is heavy-handed and the plot is out of the 1940s.

The Trial of Tantalus, by Victor Saparin

By the 21st Century, a world led by Soviet science has eradicated every disease.  The few remaining pathogens are kept in a highly secured vault for study.  In Tantalus, one escapes back into the wild, causing a myriad of positive and negative effects that must be gauged to determine their net value.  The moral of this story is that all life has purpose, even the nasty bits.  And Communism will be the key to evaluating that purpose.

Despite the adventure-story trappings of Tantalus, I found this piece the least engaging.  Sort of a creaky Astounding tale from the early 1950s.

Stone from the Stars, by Valentina Zhuravleva

Here is the one woman-penned piece in the book.  I don't know if Valya's 20% contribution is representative of gender demographics in Soviet science fiction, but I'm glad the Reds didn't neglect half of their "equal partners" in Communism.  It is worth noting, however, that even worlds dominated by egalitarian Communism, virtually none of the characters in these stories are women…

Stone is another first-contact tale.  This time, the envoy is a two-meter cylinder encased in a meteorite.  Once again, there is the debate over the potential form of the creature, but the revelation is not nearly as clear-cut as in The Heart of the Serpent.  An interesting, bittersweet piece.

Six Matches, by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky

The last piece involves neutrino-induced psionics.  Yes, the premise is so much handwavium, but that's not the point.  Rather, it is that its inventor put himself at great personal risk to advance science.  This foolhardy courage of Soviet science is lambasted with words, but praised in subtext.  Perhaps they'll trot this story out when the first cosmonaut dies.

I did not rate the stories individually because they really hang together as a gestalt.  I can't say that More Soviet Science Fiction is a great book, but it is an interesting one, and one I dispatched in short order.  And if you're a fan of Isaac Asimov, also a product of the Soviet Union, you'll appreciate his introduction.  Call it three stars – more if you've got a case (as I do) of xenophilia.

(P.S. Don't miss the second Galactic Journey Tele-Conference, July 29th at 11 a.m.!  A chance to discuss Soviet and American science fiction…and maybe win a prize!)