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[November 10, 1968] Ratings (December 1968 Fantastic)


by Victoria Silverwolf

Alphabet Soup

On the first day of this month, a new movie rating system created by the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) went into effect. Although the system is voluntary, filmgoers in the USA can expect to see a letter of the alphabet accompanying almost every movie.

This is very old news to those living in the United Kingdom, where a similar system has been in place since 1912. There have been some changes over the years, but currently the British ratings are:

U for Unrestricted (everybody admitted)

A for Adult content (children under 12 must be accompanied by adults)

X for Explicit content (no one under 16 admitted)

The new American system uses different letters, although they kept the scary X.

G for General audiences (everybody admitted, no advisory warnings)

M for Mature audiences (everybody admitted, but parental guidance is advised)

R for Restricted (persons under 16 not admitted without adult parent or guardian)

X for Explicit (no one under 16 admitted)

Gee, Magazines R Xciting!

In the spirit of the MPAA, let me experiment with offering my own similar ratings for the stories in the latest issue of Fantastic, in addition to the usual one-to-five star system of judging their quality.


Cover art by Johnny Bruck.

As with previous issues, the cover art for this one comes from the German magazine Perry Rhodan.


Hell Dance of the Giants, or something like that.

The fine print under the table of contents reveals that former editor Harry Harrison is now the associate editor, and former associate editor Barry N. Malzberg (maybe better known under the authorial pen name K. M. O'Donnell) is now the editor.  I have no idea if this swapping of job titles really means anything.

The Broken Stars, by Edmond Hamilton


Illustrations by Dan Adkins.

As the cover states, this is a sequel to Hamilton's famous space opera novel The Star Kings, from 1949. (I believe there have been a couple of other yarns in the series, published in Amazing.) However, it's certainly not a short novel. By my reckoning, it's a novelette, not even a novella.

I haven't read The Star Kings (mea culpa!) so it took me a while to figure out what was going on. (The fact that several paragraphs near the start are printed in the wrong order doesn't help.)

Three guys escape from a planet in a starship stolen from aliens. One fellow is the main hero, a man of our own time who somehow wound up in a far future of galactic empires and such. Another is a man of that time. So is the third one, but apparently he used to be the Bad Guy in previous adventures. Now he's working with the two Good Guys for his own self interest.

It turns out there's an alien on the ship as well. It can control human minds, but only one at a time. The trio solves this problem by crashing into a planet.


Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

The place is inhabited by nasty winged reptile aliens, who are part of an army of various extraterrestrials being collected by a Bad Guy to invade a planet ruled by the woman our time-traveling hero loves. Can he find a way to save her? Can he trust his former enemy? And what about those pesky mind-controlling aliens? Tune in next time!

This slam-bang action yarn reads like a chapter torn out at random from a novel. Besides starting in medias res, it stops before reaching a final resolution.

Hamilton is an old hand at writing this kind of space opera (they don't call him The World Wrecker for nothing!) so it's very readable. The former Bad Guy is the most interesting character (and he seems a lot smarter than the two Good Guys.) Too bad the story doesn't stand very well on its own.

Three stars.

Rated G for Good old scientifiction.

Ball of the Centuries, by Henry Slesar

Here's a brief tale about a guy who uses a crystal ball to see into the future. He warns a couple about to get married not to go through with it. Of course, they don't listen to him. Years later, they have the argument he predicted. The husband tracks down the guy and finds out the real reason he warned them.

That sounds like a serious story, but it's really an extended joke, with a double punchline. It's OK, I suppose, but nothing special, and a very minor work from a prolific and award-winning writer of fantasy, mystery, television, and movies.

Two stars.

Rated M for Matrimonial woes.

The Mental Assassins, by Gregg Conrad


Cover art by H J. Blumenfeld.

From the pages of the May 1950 issue of Fantastic Adventures, this story is the work of Rog Phillips under a pseudonym.


Illustration by Harold W. McCauley.

People who have been horribly maimed in accidents are kept alive and made to experience a shared dream world. The trouble begins when three of the twenty people develop evil alternate personalities. (As usual, the story thinks that schizophrenia literally means split personality.)

The physician in charge of the project asks the hero to enter the dream world and kill these doppelgängers. (This won't actually harm the real people, just eliminate their imaginary wicked doubles.) He gives it a try, but finds the experience so unpleasant he backs out of the deal.

The story then turns into a sort of hardboiled crime yarn, as the hero gets mixed up with a couple of mysterious women, a hulking bouncer, and two cab drivers who know more than they should. A wild back-and-forth chase ensues, partly on a spaceship, followed by a double twist ending.

You may be able to tell what's really happening as soon as the hero exits the dream world, but I don't think you'll guess the other plot twist, which is rather disturbing. This yarn reminds me of Philip K. Dick's games with reality, although it's not quite as adept.

Three stars.

Rated R for Really shocking ending.

The Disenchanted, by Wallace West and John Hillyard


Cover art by Vernon Kramer.

This fantasy farce comes from the January/February 1954 issue of the magazine.


Illustration by Sanford Kossin.

The ghost of Madame de Pompadour shows up at the apartment of a publisher. Present also is the author of a novel about the famed mistress of King Louis XV. The ghost objects to what the writer said about her in the book, and demands that it not be printed. When the publisher refuses, she has her ghostly buddies uninvent things, leading to chaos.

Strictly aiming for laughs, this featherweight tale ends suddenly. As a matter of fact, because the usual words THE END don't appear on the last page, I have a sneaking suspicion part of the story is missing. [Nope. It's that way in the original, too! (ed.)] Be that as it may, it provides a small amount of mildly bawdy amusement.

Two stars.

Rated R for Risqué content.

The Usurpers, by Geoff St. Reynard


Cover art by Raymon Naylor.

The January 1950 issue of Fantastic Adventures is the source of this chiller by Robert W. Krepps, an American author hiding behind a very British pen name.


Illustration by Leo Summers.

The narrator is a one-armed veteran of the Second World War. An old comrade-in-arms shows up and tells him a bizarre story.

It seems the fellow recovered from a serious eye injury. When his vision was restored, he saw that about half the people around him were actually weird, horrifying monsters in human disguise. He reaches the conclusion that beings from another dimension are infiltrating our own, intent on displacing humanity.

Things go from bad to worse when some of the creatures realize the guy can perceive them. They try to kill him, while he destroys as many of them as he can, leading to the violent conclusion.

This shocker is most notable for the truly strange and creepy descriptions of the monsters, each one of which has a different form. As an ignorant American, I found it convincingly British, although somebody from the UK might disagree. Overall, a pretty effective horror story.

Three stars.

Rated R for Revolting creatures.

The Prophecy, by Bill Pronzini

Like Henry Slesar's piece, this is a miniscule bagatelle about a prediction. A prophet who is always right announces that the world will end at a certain time on a certain day. When the hour of doom arrives, the unexpected happens.

Even shorter than the other joke story, this tiny work depends entirely on its punch line. I can't say I was terribly impressed. I also wonder why the magazine printed two similar tales in the same issue.

Two stars.

Rated G for Goofy ending.

The Collectors, by Gordon Dewey


Cover art by Barye Phillips.

My research indicates that somebody named Peter Grainger is an uncredited co-author of this story from the June/July 1953 issue of Amazing Stories.


Illustration by Harry Rosenbaum.

A very methodical fellow, who keeps track of every penny, tries to figure out why a small amount of money disappears every day. He runs into a woman who experiences the same phenomenon. It seems to have something to do with a vending machine.

The editorial introduction dismissingly says this story is . . . no classic, to be sure, it isn't even a minor classic . . . which seems like an odd way to talk about something worth printing. I thought it was reasonably intriguing. In this case, the open ending seems appropriate.

Three stars.

Rated M for Mysterious conclusion.

Unrated

As I mentioned above, the MPAA rating system is voluntary.  No doubt a few movies will be released without one of the four letters.  In a similar way, the stuff in the magazine other than fiction isn't really appropriate for rating.

Editorial: The Magazines, The Way It Is, by A. L. Caramine

Brief discussion of the rise and fall of science fiction magazines, with an optimistic prediction that they're on the way up again.  A note at the end states that A. L. Caramine is the pseudonym of a well-known science fiction author.

Digging through old magazines, the only reference I can find to A. L. Caramine is as the author of the story Weapon Master in the May 1959 issue of Science Fiction Stories.


Cover art by Ed Emshwiller.

A glance at the magazine tells me that, in addition to a story by Robert Silverberg under his own name, there are book reviews by the same fellow under his pseudonym Calvin M. Knox.  Given the way that single authors often filled up magazines with multiple pen names, I suspect that the mysterious A. L. Caramine is Silverberg as well, although I don't have definite proof of this.

2001: A Space Odyssey, by Laurence Janifer

One page article that praises the film named in the title, and says that Planet of the Apes is lousy. Just one person's opinion, take it or leave it.

The Rhyme of the SF Ancient Author or Conventions and Recollections, by J. R. Pierce

Parody of the famous Coleridge poem mocked in the title. It says that science fiction writers shouldn't go chasing money by writing other kinds of stuff. Pretty much an in-joke, I guess.

Fantasy Books, by Fritz Leiber

Mostly notable for a glowing review of Picnic on Paradise by Joanna Russ. May be the best-written thing in the magazine!

Good? Mediocre? Rotten? Xcruciating?

All in all, this was a so-so issue. The two star stories weren't that bad, the three star stories weren't that good. Not a waste of time, but you might want to listen to the current smash hit Hey Jude by the Beatles instead.


David Frost introduces the Fab Four as they perform the song on his television program.

Rated G for Groovy.






[August 31, 1968] The Sound and the Fury (September 1968 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

In the backround (and sometimes the foreground) of my reading of this month's issue of Analog was the Democratic National Convention held over four tumultuous days in the Windy City.  This was not four days of politicians patting themselves on the back, as we saw in Miami Beach for the GOP Convention—amid the citywide busdrivers and telephone workers strike, there was tumult, walk-outs, protests, and a general breakdown of the democratic process.


Il Duce, Mayor Daley, intent on turning his town into a police state in the pursuit of Law and Order: 12,000 cops plus a contingent of National Guard were on hand last weekend.

The writing was on the wall that first day when Julian Bond arrived with his alternate set of Georgia delegates, the group that broadly represented the demographic makeup of the Georgia Democratic Party.  First, they were not even allowed in; then they were grudglingly placed in the cheap seats of the balcony.  All while Daniel Inouye, Senator from Hawaii, gave a stirring, unprecedented keynote speech in which he decried the anarchy and violence occurring outside the convention halls, but nevertheless put on the assembly the responsibility of rectifying the racial injustice that led to such agitation.

Eventually, the delegates prepared to vote on the certification of the Georgia delegation that had been approved by the party—the less integrated one.  Actually, first they voted on if they were going to vote on it that evening.  It was during this battle that the Michigan delegation offered their seats to the alternate Georgia delegation, a move that enraged members of the "official" delegation.

With regard to who was going to get the Presidential nomination, by the end of the first night, it was clear McCarthy was a dead duck, and few were mentioning McGovern.  However, there was a rising "draft Kennedy" movement that peaked on Day 2 despite Ted repeatedly saying he wasn't interested.  More dramatically, Day 2 marked the day police evicted 1,000 protesters from nearby Lincoln Park, CBS correspondent Dan Rather got punched by plainclothes security for not wearing his credentials prominently, dozens of delegates, mostly Black, walked out, and Georgia Governor Lester Maddox took his ball and went home, saying he was going to stump for segregationalist independent candidate, George Wallace.


Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out…

And that night, I'm pretty sure they still hadn't certified the Georgia delegation.

On the third day, 10,000 protesters gathered at Grant Park, a terrific anti-War demonstration broke out on the floor of the convention, and the minority position tried in vain to make an end to bombing North Vietnam a part of the party plank.  By the time Humphrey was anointed the candidate (a foregone conclusion by that point), it was an anti-climax and anything but a triumphant coronation.  And what a change twenty years has wrought: the Southern delegations that walked out on the convention in '48 are now behind Humphrey, where the liberals who admired the fiery populist now reject the man they view as Johnson's stooge.

Discontent was rampant.  Delegates were frustrated that they were not listened to, that the motions they were voting on were not sufficiently explained, and that Mayor Daley was strong-arming them into voting the way he wanted them to.  Not to mention that there wasn't enough food to feed everyone in the convention's vicinity, and the hot dogs on site were terrible. Many said 1968 marked the death of the party convention, at least in its current incarnation.

But the political strife was as nothing compared to the rivers of blood that were shed as blue-helmeted cops clashed with protestors.  "The Whole World is Watching" and "Fuck LBJ" intertwined with shouts and screams, and all of it was televised in full color (but not live, as that was impossible due to the strikes and Daley's security efforts).

The only bright spot of that third evening was the nomination of D.C. and Black native son the Rev. Channing Phillips, the first American of African descent to be nominated by a major political party for President.

By the fourth day, I was exhausted, yet I tuned in anyway.  I'm glad I did.  That evening, the convention played a retrospective on RFK.  It was too hagiographic, and frankly, the wounds too fresh to bear close watching, at least for me.  But when it was over, something amazing happened.  Virtually the entire audience of delegates, excluding just the groups from Texas and Illinois, rose to its feet and began clapping.  Louder and louder, and then they started singing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic."  Over and over, "Glory Glory Hallelujah, His truth is marching on."  Daley's henchmen tried to impose order.  They gaveled.  They called out the Sergeants-in-Arms.  Nothing deterred the delegates.  All of the anger, all the discontent, all of the frustrated might-have-beens boiled over in that moment into this display of singing, of shouting, of clapping.

It was only defused when a moment of silence was called for the memory of Dr. King, and then the convention could continue.  The business of the moment was the nomination of a Vice President.  That morning Humphrey had already tapped Senator Edmund Muskie of Maine, and there was no serious opposition.

Yet, and in a truly touching moment, Julian Bond's name was advanced as a candidate (so, the first Black VP nominee of a major party in history), and he garnered 27 and a half votes before voluntarily withdrawing his name.  Humbly, self-effacingly, he noted that he was too young to accept.


Bond withdraws his name from consideration.

Muskey and Humphrey gave their acceptance speeches that night.  There was a lot on their shoulders—the need to deliver speeches that thread the needle, knitting the party back together, both addressing and condemning what had happened in Chicago.

That didn't happen.  What we got was a limp flatness of platitudes.  When I woke up, I learned that 20 delegates, supporters of McCarthy, had been beaten up in their hotel and arrested.  The charge pelting the cops with sardines.  McCarthy pointedly did not congratulate Humphrey that morning; the Vice President, now the newly christened candidate, had made no comment on the incident, tacitly endorsing it.

So that's that.  HHH is our bulwark against Nixon.  Muskie is his backstop.  Wallace just got a shot in the arm, and I can only think that's a blow against Democratic hopes.  Americans are disunited as we have not been for many decades.


It is hard to go on with my assigned task after all that, but the job remains, and I'm the one who has to do it.  The convention was four days of Hell.  Accordingly, the September 1968 issue of Analog was a slog, too, though of a different kind.


by John Schoenherr

The Tuvela (Part 1 of 2), by James H. Schmitz


by John Schoenherr

The ocean planet of Nandy-Cline is in the sights of the Parahuans, a rapacious race of aliens that was beaten back by the Federation seventy years ago, and wants another try at the apple.  They're being cautious.  The humans beat them once, which is almost heresy to the arrogant Parahuans.  To justify losing to the inferior homo sapiens, they decide there must be a secret cabal of superhumans that leads and coordinates our species.  They must know more in order to sway political power from those supporting the Voice of Caution to those in favor of the Voice of Action.

To that end, they have set up a submarine base on the planet and abducted the human, Ticos Cay.  Why?  Because he is nearly 200 years old and seems to have found the secret of immortality.  It is clear to the Parahuans that he must be in the employ of the "Tuvelas", our putative ubermenschen.  They torture him, at length, but he resists because the same disciplines that have extended his life also grant him the ability to blot out pain.  Nevertheless, he will succumb—unless he can get outside help.

Enter Nile Etland, a young biologist living on Nandy-Cline.  She and her two giant mutant otters, sapient and clever, are looking for Cay, who has disappeared from the floating island where he was doing research.  Cay's only hope is that the Parahuans will take Etland for a Tuvela and treat her with comparative kid gloves, testing her abilities, rather than killing her outright.

Etland, to her credit, is up to the challenge…

The premise for this one is excellent, and something I love about James H. Schmitz is his ability with (indeed preference for) featuring heroines over heroes.  That said, the writing in this piece is often plodding and explanatory, and I found my momentum frequently flagging.

So, three stars for this installment.  Now that all the pieces have been set up, perhaps the next half will be more exciting.

The Powers of Observation, by Harry Harrison


by Leo Summers

The Soviets have developed a new kind of super spy.  He looks just like a man, but for some reason weighs over 400 pounds.  If that leads you to guess that he's the Communist version of Hymie the robot from Get Smart, give yourself a cigar.

But the American agent tasked to pursue him through the back roads of Yugoslavia has a few gimmicks up his sleeve, too…

Well-written, but nothing spectactular.  Three stars.

Steamer Time?, by Wallace West

As America grapples with its oppressive smog situation, some are calling for a return to the good ol' days—the days of the Stanley Steamer.  I'm just a little too young to remember when steam cars battled internal combustion vehicles for supremacy, so I don't have the nostalgia for them that Wallace West infuses his piece with.  The arguments for steam are largely that it burns clean, with its only waste gas being carbon dioxide (of course, while not strictly a "pollutant", there are other problems with it; viz. our 1958 article on the potential for industry-caused global heating).  Steam engines were also more fuel-efficient, though I don't know if that's still the case.

The arguments against steam, to me, would be the long time to develop a head of steam.  In the old days, waiting for your boiler to heat up was acceptable since the alternative was cranking up your IC car, and risking breaking an arm when the crank snapped back.  With the invention of the electric starter, that became a non-issue.  Perhaps the steam folks have a plan, too.

Anyway, the piece is readable, if a bit gushing.  I'm sure the auto industry will never allow an IC competitor to emerge, although as we speak, two electric cars are racing across the nation, so who knows?

Three stars.

Hi Diddle Diddle, by Peter E. Abresch


by Leo Summers

A harried reserve USAF captain, assigned to the UFO division, gets tired of all the cranks and reporters and spins a yarn for them: the cigar-shaped "ships" are really space cows feeding on the gasses of our upper atmosphere.  His creation is recounted credulously, and hysteria sweeps the nation.  Eventually, even Soviet agents are involved.

But what if the captain actually guessed too close to the mark?

This is a tedious story, and it just goes on and on.  Analog rarely does humor well.

Two stars.

A Flash of Darkness, by Stanley Schmidt


by Leo Summers

Mars Rover (MR) Robot is having a bit of trouble on Mars.  The autonomous machine uses a holographic laser rather than a camera for navigation (apparently it's lighter; I don't buy it).  When night falls, the rover finds its vision fogged and then blinded by something beyond its ken.  It's up to the technicians back on Earth, and maybe a little intuition in MR Robot's mechanical brain, to solve the problem.

This could have been an interesting piece, but I felt the ending was a let-down.  You'll see why.

Two stars.

Parasike, by Michael Chandler


by Leo Summers

A fellow pretending to use numerology to make guaranteed stock picks turns out to be a quack of a different duck.  He is promptly recruited by America's super-secret psi corps.

A lot of talking, a lot of fatuous acceptance of psi as science—in short, the perfect Campbell story.

Two stars.

Counting off

August has been one of the roughest months of one of the roughest years in recent history.  Analog finished at 2.5, which is lousy, but not that far removed from the rest: Fantasy and Science Fiction (2.5), Amazing (2.6), If (2.9).  Only Galaxy finished above the three-star barrier (3.1)

You could take all the 4/5 star stuff, and you wouldn't even fill a single issue.  That's awful.  Women were down to their usual publication rate, producing 6.5% of all new fiction this month.

It's going to take bold new leadership to change that trend, just as it will take bold new leadership to fix the country.  That new leadership doesn't seem to be near in coming.  I just hope we can withstand another Long Hot Summer…






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[March 4, 1968] Everything Old is New Again (New Writings in SF-12 & Famous Science Fiction Issues #4-6)


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

Lady Penelope Magazine cover

Overlooked by many, my favourite comic book right now is Lady Penelope, TV21’s magazine for girls. Between the great stories of Spectrum’s Angels, Bewitched and (surprisingly) Crossroads, they have delightful pop culture articles.

Album Covers from Jefferson Airplane, Kaleidoscope and The Rascals
Three recent psychedelic albums whose art evokes the past

In a recent piece they pointed out how current culture seems to be drawing from pre-war sources, whether that be in fashion, where people are seemingly emulating the flappers of Thoroughly Modern Millie and the military outfits of Khartoum, music, with music hall and ragtime mixing with psychedelia, or television, with the success of The Forsyte Saga and The World of Wooster.

As such, the line between current and past styles is becoming more blurred, something reflected in this article’s selection of fiction:

New Writings in SF-12

New Writings in SF 12 Cover

In his foreword, Carnell muses on how changes in SF style seem to follow the sunspot cycle and happen differently on both sides of the Atlantic. He states that Harrison here represents the Ballardian inner-space type of story, Kapp representing the Vancian “medieval futurism”, Rome and Sellings could only be told in the current style, whilst White and Rankine are more traditional.

Vertigo by James White

We start with a return to White’s “Sector General”, where the crew of Descartes conduct an exploratory mission to a soupy planet nicknamed “Meatball”, where they discover a tool that psychically responds to the user's needs. Soon the native species makes a first attempt at spaceflight and Descartes’ crew attempts a rescue.

This is the kind of high quality I have come to expect from these tales. Strong character work, fascinating depiction of alien life and well-paced action. White knows what he does and does it well.

Four Stars

Visions of Monad by M. John Harrison

Bailey is a poet who became disillusioned with life. He consented to spend two weeks in a sensory deprivation tank and now spends his time with Monad, his beatnik artist lover, in a hedonistic haze, struggling to connect with reality.

This is more Moorcock New Worlds than Carnell’s, very hip and New Wavey. One with marginal SF content (SD experiments featuring in thrillers such as The Mind Benders) but very well told and evocative.

Four Stars

Worm in the Bud by John Rankine

Commander Dag Fletcher is sent to retrieve Peter Quinn, an IGO diplomat who has tried to ensure peace is maintained with the insectoid Chrysaorties. However, the planet is inhospitable, the takeoff is delayed, and Fletcher senses the aliens cannot be trusted…

As you may recall, I am not a fan of these stories, and I continued to dislike both the content and the style of this piece.

One Star

They Shall Reap by David Rome

The welcome return of one of Carnell’s better writers (and a contributor to the Journey), last seen at the end of ’64.

This one is Twilight Zone-esque, where Adam and Eve and their two children move into the Rich Valley Development, a seemingly utopian farming community where no effort is needed to make the crops grow. But is it all too good to be true?

These kind of sinister conformist community tales are fairly common but this is an effective example.

Three Stars

The Last Time Around by Arthur Sellings

In the future a few specialist pilots are needed to fly D.C.P. (Direct Continuum Propulsion) ships to explore new planets, but the time dilation effect means the crew comes back many years later. This follows Grant’s attempts to adjust to Earth after these trips away.

This is a very slow story but a clever one to explore changes in society and how love could work for a time traveler, with a morally ambiguous ending.

A high four stars

The Cloudbuilders by Colin Kapp

This novella tells of a future where gas balloons are the main form of transport. Guild Journeyman Jacobi comes to Catenor to help with the construction of hydrogen ships, whilst dealing with Cloud Pirate raids.

I have not much liked Kapp’s “Unorthodox Engineer” tales but this is an improvement in both style and content. The main issue is it is too long because Kapp over describes everything. It makes what could have been a marvellous short, a touch flabby.

Three stars


So a good selection in New Writings, but how will Famous fare? One positive point to start with is that I don’t believe any of these stories have been reprinted since first publication. As to the quality? Read on:


Famous #4

Famous #4 Cover
Illustration by Virgil Finlay, unknown source

Standards in Science Fiction – Science Fiction as Delight

Lowdnes uses his editorials across all three issues to look in depth at what makes good science fiction enjoyable. Well worth a glance.

The Man Who Awoke: 2. Master of the Brain by Laurence Manning

The Master Brain under attack
Illustration by Frank R. Paul

Continuing the 1933 serial, Norman Winters now awakes in 10,000 AD. Here he finds a society governed by a computer called the Brain. People live in cities under its direction, doing a small amount of work according to their rank and then spend the rest of their time in leisure facilities. However, the brain may no longer need humans at all, and Winters agrees to aid rebels in freeing themselves from its control.

This very much feels like a product of the time, combining together elements of The Machine Stops and Brave New World into an adventure tale. What it lacks in originality though, it makes up for in style and characterization.

Four Stars

… Do Not Fold or Mutilate … by William M. Danner

A new piece by a writer I am unfamiliar with. Danner tells of a man in an overcrowded society trying to deal with a change to his assistance card.

Whilst the atmosphere conjures up Make Room! Make Room! the actual tale is a standard one of failing bureaucracy like we have read many times before.

A low three stars

The Last Shrine by Chester D. Cuthbert

In Mexico lies the mysterious Valley of Peace, our narrator goes in to discover the truth behind the legends and meets a mysterious native tribe.

Originally from the same issue as Voice of Atlantis, these kind of “lost race” stories were already old fashioned in the 30s and the addition of strange science and dreams doesn’t do much to aid it.

Two Stars

The Times We Had by Edward D. Hoch

The other new fiction is from a long-time horror writer and regular contributor to Lowdnes’ other magazines. In a change to Hoch’s usual style, this involves Turkmen’s return to his family after a year on the moon and recounting his life there.

A lovely slice of life piece with a great twist in the tail.

Four Stars

Master of the Octopus by Edward Olin Weeks

Going back to the 19th Century, Weeks’ story comes from Pearson’s Magazine in 1899. This reprint has an introduction by Sam Moskowitz on how it fits into the history of lighting.

The Consolidated Lighting Company of America has become so powerful and successful it has been nicknamed The Octopus and its president seen as possibly the smartest man on the planet. However, when an inventor brings him a perpetual light with no need of external energy, he may have met his match.

This seems to me to be a satire of Thomas Edison and General Electric. And, even though it starts bright, it ends dimly.

A low three stars

The City of Spiders by H. Warner Munn

This final novelette comes from the early days of Weird Tales, in 1926. Our narrator relates the tale of Jabez Pentreat, an etymologist who travels into the jungles of Venezuela, finding a stone city overrun with spiders and ruled over by a giant telepathic Spider King.

Whilst Munn does a good job of showing an alien kind of intelligence (the influence of Lovecraft is clear) I found myself more in mind of giant insect B-Movies, and the treatment of the South American natives left a bad taste in my mouth.

Two Stars

Ratings for Famous #2 & 3, The Moon Menace winning for #2 and The Man Who Awoke & The Last American winning for  #3.
For issues 2 and 3, it seems the older the story, the more well liked it is.

Famous #5

Famous #5 Cover
Illustration by Frank R. Paul, originally from Wonder Stories – May 1933 illustrating Gulliver 3000 AD by Leslie F Stone

The Pygmy Planet by Jack Williamson

The Pygmy Planet in the x-ray beam as a small plane flies towards it.
Illustration by H. W. Wesso

Dr. Whiting, to test evolution, creates a miniature planet in his laboratory using x-rays. The planet (as smaller objects experience time at high speed) has advanced to such a stage the creatures on it have been able to kidnap Whiting and bring him down. His lab assistant Agnes summons her friend Larry for help. When a machine-monster from the planet also grabs Agnes, Larry must shrink himself down and rescue them both.

A Machin-Monster leaves the planet to menace Agnes and Larry.
Illustration by Frank R. Paul

Reprinted from 1932’s Astounding, I cannot help thinking readers at the time would have found the entire tale just as silly as I did. And whilst it is better told than Cummings' similar story a few issues ago, it is very oddly paced with the adventure section feeling far too short and the ending being a poor one.

Two Stars

Destroyers by Greg D. Bear

Not just new fiction but a new writer to the scene, which is always good to see. In the future he describes, some people are licensed to be “destroyers” if they have a reason for their hatred. A writer interviews several contradictory destroyers to ascertain their motives.

A very silly satire but Bear’s style shows promise.

A higher two stars

The Man Who Awoke: 3. The City of Sleep by Laurence Manning

Winters, surrounded by scientists, investigates a man attached to a machine.
Illustration by Frank R. Paul

We continue Norman Winters' journeys into the future. In this millennium the world has seen a big increase in temperature and the population of America are all black. More and more people are entering into a computer-generated fantasy world where all their wishes can be fulfilled. However, this is creating a crisis, as soon there will be too few people left outside to maintain the machines or to reproduce.

Of all the societies Manning has shown us, I find this one the most fascinating so far. Whereas the prior installment felt distinctly of the period, this could easily have been produced today by Philip K. Dick. It continues to ask great questions about our future, balancing the good and bad of possibilities.

Five Stars

Echo by William F. Temple

We come now to a new tale by an old hand. This is an unusual spy story, where the Saurian Venusians have taken over the body of Richard Gaunt by use of a temporary echo of the personality of Narvel. They intend to steal the secrets of Organic Materials Inc., however, it turns out that being a human is harder than it seems.

Whilst it is a more original take on the genre, I found it confusing and unpleasant.

A low two stars

Plane People by Wallace West

Astronomers observe the two dimensional comet.
Illustration by Paul Orban

Finally, we have the return of Wallace West with this piece from Astounding November 1933. Whilst studying a two dimensional comet, astronomer Adolph Strauss, his son Frank, Frank’s girlfriend Marie and clerk Bert Wheeler, find themselves transported on to it. There they discover an entire civilization of flat people.

The group are surrounded by the flat Plane People
Illustration by Paul Orban

This is a combination of Off on a Comet, Flatland and A Princess of Mars without managing to be anywhere near as interesting as any of them. I found the whole experience silly and dull. Add to that the unpleasant writing of Marie throughout, it is incredibly weak.

One Star

Rankings for Famous #5, with The City of Spider winning.
Once more showing my opinions are at odds with the average Famous reader.

Famous #6

Famous #5 Cover
Illustration by Frank R. Paul, illustrating The Individualists for the original 1933 Wonder Stories publication

The Hell Planet by Leslie F. Stone

Illlustration for Hell Planet with the crew surrounded by Vulcanites
Illustration by Frank R. Paul

The crew of the Adventure travel to the (much hypothesized at the time, 1932) planet Vulcan, close to the sun. They are in search of Cosmicite, a rare metal which can act as a near perfect insulator. However, Vulcan is dangerous to human life and the Vulcanites may not be keen to part with it.

Stone does a great deal of work to make the Vulcanites another civilization and not merely generic tribespeople. And although the work does contain some cliches of the period, it ends up being smarter than I expected.

Four Stars

The Dragon-Kings by L. Sprague de Camp

The first poem for Famous, from the current laureate of F&SF, apparently being an ode to dinosaurs. I can’t help think it may have been rejected by his usual venue for being very poor fare.

One Star

The Individualists by Laurence Manning

Individualists image showing Winters hiding from a walking city.
Full version of cover illustration

In the fourth installment of The Man Who Awoke series, Winters now awakes in 20,000 AD where he finds a world full of cities that move around like Wells’ Martian Tripods and battle each other, but inside they have only a single inhabitant.

This portion feels different to the prior installment in a few ways. Firstly, whilst the others are more complexly thought-out societies, this feels more Swiftian in its approach, absurdism to make a point. Secondly, he ends being unable to make any changes to this era, the individual tendency being overwhelming. Thirdly, another person decides to copy his methods of suspension. How the last part will play out we will have to see in the final installment.

Not my favourite piece but still fascinatingly told and makes great points.

Four stars

More Than One Way by Burt K. Filer

The final new piece is from one of Pohl’s recent discoveries. Humans of 2071 are trying to deal with Denobleans (flying snake creatures). Scotty and Mel develop the EDM (ensephalodigital manipulator) which allows them to pursue alternative paths of evolution of creatures including man.

Ridiculous science, psi-powers, dull engineering details, human ingenuity beating aliens. I would bet my hind teeth this was an Analog reject.

One Star

The Invulnerable Scourge by John Scott Campbell

The final story comes from November 1930’s Wonder Stories. Following a debate between Dr. Riis and Prof. Pfeffler over the superiority of man or insect, the former develops an insect that is completely immune to natural predators. Unsurprisingly it escapes.

With the first-place result for City of Spiders, I guess a lot of readers like these bug-based horror tales. This one is more apocalyptic and good at times, but I was mostly rolling my eyes at it and the ending is a big disappointment.

Two Stars

Rankings for Famous #5, with City of Sleep winning.
Well, one person disliked the West novelette at least…

Past or Future?

Chainmail miniskirt design from 1967
Is Paco Rabane's design meant to be futuristic or historical?

Once again, it seems that sometimes new is better, at others the old has something to teach us. In the 1990s or 2000s, will people be trying to imitate the styles of the 1960s? Only time will tell.






[July 24, 1967] Not Feelin’ Groovy (Famous Science Fiction #1-3)


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

I guess it had to happen. I have reached the age of 34 and am annoyed by modern pop music. I should say this is one specific type. Not the experimental psychedelic sounds of Jimi Hendrix or Pink Floyd, nor the soulful songs of Gladys Knight or The Four Tops. No, I am referring to sickly sweet “flower music” that has come over from California.

Feelin Groovy Harper's Bizarre Album

I first noticed it with Jan & Dean’s Yellow Balloon, a song which makes nursery rhymes sound like The Rolling Stones.

Windy by The Association Single

This was followed by more creeping into the charts such as The Association apparently performing a weather forecast and Harper’s Bizarre doing two awful covers of already poor songs. Then the worst has now been appearing everywhere. Scott McKenzie’s San Francisco, which sounds less like a pop song as an advertising jingle for flora hats.

San Francisco by Scott McKenzie

So many of them are appearing on pirate radio now, apparently superseding the beats and blues sounds I have enjoyed over the last few years. Having to hear so many cloying horticultural tunes from groups like The Young Rascals, The Turtles and The Johnny Mann Singers, is enough to make anyone want to hide in the past.

Thankfully there is a new magazine just for that: Robert Lowndes' (of '50s magazine editing fame) new effort, Famous Science Fiction.

Famous Science Fiction

Famous is about 90% reprint and 10% new material. We are told the purpose is to bring to light pre-1938 stories that were well regarded but have since been out of print, whilst also bringing back an intermediate market for SF between Amazing and the comics.


Famous #1


Famous #1 Magazine Cover

The cover is not an original Finlay, rather a colourisation of a piece from 1962’s Amazing.

Original Image from 1962 Amazing
Artwork by Virgil Finlay

The Girl in the Golden Atom by Ray Cummings

Ray Cummings story is his first and indeed was well known. However, it has been reprinted many times.

Printings of Girl in the Golden Atom

It first appeared in All-Story Weekly in 1919 and most recently in the collection The Giant Anthology of Science Fiction. Whilst this last reprint was thirteen years ago, it doesn’t feel as hard to find as Lowdnes seems to intend.

Anyway, it concerns a chemist (named merely The Chemist) who recites to his friends how he created a powerful microscope allowing him to see objects smaller than ever before. Looking inside a gold ring he finds a woman sitting inside a cave. He develops chemicals to shrink and grow himself so he can enter this microscopic world. From here it proceeds into an adventure tale as he must save her nation from destruction at the hands of an invading force.

Although it is important to acknowledge this story is almost fifty years old, this still feels old-fashioned for the time, more Victorian than Post-War in style. Also, even for the 1910s, the science is ridiculous. For example, the golden ring world resembles Earth because it comes from Earth, whilst Martian atoms would resemble Mars.

All of this would be tolerable if it weren’t so dull. Large sections are just spent with The Chemist explaining dull details and his friends ejaculating in surprise between puffs of cigars. Journey to the Centre of the Earth this is not!

Two stars…just.

The City of Singing Flame by Clark Ashton Smith

Smith fits Lowdnes’ brief better as, unlike fellow Weird Tales writers Howard and Lovecraft, his reprints have largely been restricted to a couple of Arkham House collections. That is, except for the Singing Flame stories!

Reprints of Smith's City of the Singing Flame

City of the Singing Flame first appeared in Gernsbeck’s Wonder Stories in July 1931. It was then combined with its sequel, from November of the same year, (see below) in Tales of Wonder in 1940 whereupon it became a regular reprint, up to Derleth’s The Other Side of The Moon, which you can still get in paperback today.

In the narrative, Hastane has received the journal of author Giles Angrath, who recently disappeared along with artist Felix Ebbonly. In the journal’s account, Angrath is walking near his cabin when he steps into a mysterious stone circle and is transported to another place. He begins to explore the strange new land, encountering the beings that dwell there and their Singing City.

Comparing this to Golden Atom, Singing Flame does everything right Cummings' story does wrong. Where Atom gets bogged down in technical gobbledygook, this is just willing to say it doesn’t understand, whereas the former creates an unimaginative repetition of our world, the latter is a work of colossal imagination, unlike any other I have read. And, most importantly, it is never dull.

Four stars

Voice of Atlantis by Laurence Manning

Wonder Stories Cover 1934

This comes from Wonder Stories in 1934, but I do not believe it has been reprinted. Congratulations, one out of three!

Clearly a fan of Manning, Lowndes has reprinted three others from this series in Magazine of Horror, where members of The Strangers Club tell each other unusual tales.

Volking tells of his experiments in telepathy, where he makes contact with a man from twenty thousand years in Earth’s past. This is a man from Atlantis, whose civilization was significantly more advanced than ours and is surprised by how savage we are today.

Erewhon by Samuel Butler Cover

This also feels very Victorian, reminding me of lost civilization tales like Erewhon. It should also be mentioned that even the characters note its style of using Socratic dialogue feels clumsy and the science is nonsensical. At least there is a kernel of some interesting ideas.

Two Stars

And now for the two new vignettes:

The Plague by George Henry Smith

In 2200, The Death Thing has come to a convent to claim the lives of eighteen young women. If Father Joseph does not accede to the request, all the children may be taken.

This is a dark and grim, if rather obvious tale. Like a combination of Killdozer and a Twilight Zone episode. However, the atmosphere raises it up a little.

Three Stars

The Question by J. Hunter Holly

Fifty years ago, the Vegans first encountered humanity. Humanity was told they would be allowed to join the family of intergalactic civilization if Earth could wipe out warfare. Since then, the World has strived to reach that goal, but will the Vegans be satisfied?

Well told story, if a little old fashioned and moralistic.

Three Stars

So, a mediocre start, with the one standout tale you can pick up elsewhere for a few shillings. But will it get better?


Famous #2


Famous #2 Cover

Another Finlay cover, this time from 1958’s Fantastic.

1958 Fantastic Reprint Cover
Artwork by Virgil Finlay

Inside Lowndes does better in his aims, with none of these stories appearing since first publication:

The Moon Menace by Edmond Hamilton

Weird Tales Cover from 1927

The first reprint comes from the September 1927 issue of Weird Tales, penned by the prolific, and still writing, Edmond Hamilton.

In The Moon Menace, Dr. Howard Gilbert, a famous but reclusive scientist, receives televisual signals from the Moon. Most other scientists doubt Gilbert’s findings but when the Earth is plunged into total darkness, he may be the world’s only hope.

It starts as a clear imitation of War of the Worlds and is a pretty standard invasion story. Whilst it may not be the most original work it has some interesting elements and readable enough to keep me engaged.

Three Stars

Dust by Wallace West

Although unpublished before, this was apparently rejected for Weird Tales publication some years ago.

Ralph Marvin of the Inquirer is writing up a story on how humanity may die out, but is it already here in the air we breathe?

A very didactic tale, one that could have been a science fact article. However, in spite of stylistic issues, it is a meaty subject that it is good to see addressed in fiction.

Three Stars

The White City by David H. Keller, M.D.

Amazing 1935 Reprint Cover

Taken from May 1935’s Amazing, Keller gives us yet another disaster yarn.

Farmer John Johnson decides to build a small holding in the slums of New York and live self-sufficiently. He becomes quite a sensation in the city as an eccentric, but when a terrible blizzard hits the Big Apple, he may be the one hope the world has.

This is an odd piece; for the majority it appears to just be the tall tale of an eccentric farmer. Then it takes a hard left turn into the kind of story you would see in the lowest of comic books.

Two Stars, mostly for curiosity value.

Rimghost by A. Bertram Chandler

The other new tale is a further outing for Chandler’s Rim stories, which we have been covering from the early days of the Journey to the most recent serial in If.

Mr. Willoughby joins a motley crew aboard the Rimgirl. However, something strange occurs, they encounter an exact duplicate of their ship, including its crew.

This spends far too much time for me running through all the characters and establishing connections to other stories such that the actual mystery is treated too abruptly. And, whilst the actual prose is solid, the misogynistic descriptions of Mary are poor.

A low Two Stars

Seeds from Space by Laurence Manning

Cover Wonder Stories 1935

And we finish with another visit to the Strangers Club, this one getting the cover of Wonder Stories for June 1935.

This time Col. Marsh tells of Blenkins who grows plants on his roof in Greenwich village. He plants some strange seeds in this garden and they grow into unusual tall plants. Eventually they walk into his apartment, telling him they are an intelligent species.

A reasonable story of sentient plant life, but it is less Day of the Triffids and more a forgettable tall tale.

Two Stars

So, whilst no complete blunders this issue, no stand outs either. Will third time be the charm?


Famous #3


Famous #3 Cover

Our final issue goes further back for its cover, from Science Stories in 1953.

Reprint Image from 1953's Science Stories
Artwork by Virgil Finlay

Beyond the Singing Flame by Clark Ashton Smith

This picks up after the publication of Angrath’s journal, where Hastane goes in search of the mysterious city. Within it he encounters even more wonders and what becomes of people who go through the flame.

I feel much the same about this sequel as I do about its antecedent. It is not so much a new idea and largely concerned with continuing exploration of this world, but Smith is such a marvelous wordsmith, the sense of awe pulls you along.

Four stars

A Single Rose by Jon DeCles

The only new fiction this issue. Silas Finnegan is a successful industrialist, who uses all his resources to make the one thing he always dreamed of, his very own unicorn. Of course, he then has to work out how to afford to keep it.

This piece seems to be aiming for something deeper about the nature of beauty, but I mostly just found it a pleasant little story about achieving childhood fantasies.

Three stars

Disowned by Victor Endersby

Astounding 1932 Coverr

This one comes from September 1932’s Astounding, although reads to me more like something I would expect in Weird Tales.

On a rainy night a party is caught in a storm and Tristan is struck by ball lightning. This causes Tristan’s gravity to be reversed and he is being pulled upwards towards the sky.

Disowned Artwork
Artwork by H. W. Wesso

This is very silly, not just in the science, but also in the circumstances which follow from it, with him living an upside-down life on the ceiling and doing circus acts.

One Star

The Last American by J. A. Mitchell

This is the earliest story so far, originating in book form in the 19th Century. However, it is once again one that Derleth currently has out in paperback.

Far Boundaries Cover

By 1990, the Mehrikan civilization vanished from the Earth and remains a mystery to the historians in Persia. This recounts the voyage of Noz-yt-ahl aboard the Zlothub in 2951 to their mysterious land.

Last American Art, New York In Ruins
All Artwork also by the Author

Landing in a strange port with huge structures, they eventually ascertain it is the fabled lost city of Nuh-Yuk, where the people were famous for nothing but their greed and having only prosperity as their God. As they continue to explore Nuh-Yuk they become less enamoured with the civilization, finding the people and buildings monotonous.

Artist's Impression of Life in Nuh-Yuk

As such they then head down river to Washington and there encounter Jon and his family, the very last remnants of the Mehrikans.

Fight between the Persians and Mehrikans

In spite of its age, this holds up as a great satirical piece, with the American being put in the position of the fallen civilization, judged harshly by those in a now dominant position and treated as a museum piece.

A high four stars

The Man Who Awoke by Laurence Manning

Continuing his reprints of Manning’s back catalogue, Lowndes has moved on to his Man Who Awoke series, with this first part coming from March 1933’s Wonder Stories.

Wonder Stories March 1933

Norman Winters has discovered that by putting himself into a comatose state in a chamber protected from cosmic rays, he can survive without aging. Faking his disappearance, he then sets up an x-ray to wake himself up in the year 5000.

Winters wakes in a time of plenty but not much excitement. People live in small villages and get everything from the trees they grow, only working less than two hours a day. Once the truth about himself is revealed he is caught in struggle between the Oldsters and the Council of Youth. Eventually Winters decides he cannot live here and uses the same method to advance to a later time. To be continued.

News From Nowhere by William Morris Cover

When I started, I thought it was going to be another The Sleeper Awakes. However, it is actually closer to William Morris’ News From Nowhere, showing us an agrarian future without want or struggle, and also asks questions of our current waste of our natural resources.

But this is not a purely a utopian vision, it acknowledges that the level of reaction to “The Age of Waste” (as they call the 20th Century) has resulted in excessive caution and explicitly calls for a middle path, for progress to exist without careless consumption.

Also, in stark contrast to his Stranger Club tales, this is elegantly written. Rather than wading through treacle I felt like I was drinking a glass of dry white wine on a summer’s evening.

Five Stars

Finally, we get the reader rankings for the first issue here:

Reader Ratings Issue 1: 1) Golden Atom; 2) City of the Singing Flame 3) Voice of Atlantis 4) Question 5) Plague
Showing myself to have very different opinions from the average reader of this publication

Some Other Someday

West Coast Consortium Band Photo
West Coast Consortium, actually from London

So maybe the past isn’t always that amazing either. Whether you are looking at then or now, there will always be both muck and brass.

I am not sure if I will pick up future issues or stick to picking up paperback anthologies for my past exploration. But, even though I will not put plants on my head for a trip to America, I am still happy to listen to Radio London, maybe just turning down the volume if West Coast Consortium come on…






[January 10, 1967] Return to sender (February 1967 Galaxy)


by Gideon Marcus

President Johnson commissioned noted (and favorite of our editor, Janice) artist Peter Hurd to draw his official Presidential portrait.  This was the result:

Reportedly, upon seeing the painting, Johnson described it as the ugliest thing he had ever seen.  Aghast, the artist asked what the President had wanted in a portrait.  Lyndon whipped out this piece painted by Normal Rockwell:

I understand that Hurd returned his commission and that a new picture will be made.  Maybe by someone with the initials L.B.J.

Law of Analogy


by Jack Gaughan

It was certainly a blow to the shocked Hurd, but I kind of know how Lyndon felt.  I had a similar reaction upon finising the latest issue of Galaxy.  This was, for the most part, not the magazine I was hoping for.

Our Man in Peking, by Hayden Howard


by Jack Gaughan

Yes, as Winter follows Fall, so we have yet another tale in the saga of Dr. West and the half-alien Esks.  Briefly: an alien came to Earth and bred with a local woman.  Her progeny, and their kids, too, all breed humanoids who look like Eskimos, but who mature in three years and give birth in a month.  Twenty years after the first was born, there are now more than a billion of them.  And instead of being stopped or even investigated to any real degree, the governments of the world refuse to see them as anything other than mutant Eskimos, deserving of love, affection, and free food.  The Chinese have welcomed them with open arms to till hitherto unprofitable fields, but Canada, Scandinavia, and other places have also taken them in.

Only one man, the notorious Dr. West, who tried but failed to sterilize the Esks with a tailored plague, will admit the true menace of the Esks.

Last installment, West was in a comfy Canadian prison for his attempted genocide.  In this one, he has been sent on a mission to Red China, brainwashed to learn the details on an as-needed basis, mind-controlled to have no say in his actions.  He is shot down over the mainland along with an Air Force Major so caricatured in his manner that I wondered if Gaughan's art would depict him with straw coming out of his joints.

After much rigamarole, West finds himself in the presence of the current Communist leader, Mao III (do the Chinese give descendants appellations like that?) And then the true nature of West's mission is revealed…

Hayden Howard really isn't a very good writer, and there aren't actually any characters in this story–only marionettes who dance to the author's strings without any will of their own.  I also could have done without the word "Chink" used a couple dozen times.

What keeps the tale from getting just one star is this morbid fascination with how this wholly unrealistic scenario will turn out.  We're supposed to get the conclusion next month.  God willing, that'll be the end of the Esks, one way or another.

Two stars.

Return Match, by Philip K. Dick

The outspacers have gambling casinos across the galaxy.  The only problem?  They tend to be lethal for their patrons.  Joseph Tinbane, a cop for Superior Los Angeles, takes on the aliens' latest contraption: a pinball machine that evolves not only to be unbeatable, but ultimately to attack the player!

Dick's vivid writing is on display here, so there's nothing wrong with the reading.  But the concept is pure fantasy, up to and including the conclusion where Tinbane is menaced by giant pinballs.  I can only imagine that PKD turned on, dropped out, and dashed off this tale before the hallucinations disappeared from his memory.

Three stars.

For Your Information: Who Invented the Crossbow? by Willy Ley

Ley's latest piece is an interesting, but somehow perfunctory piece on the evolution of the crossbow.  A few more pages of Asimov treatment would have helped.

Three stars.

The Last Filibuster, by Wallace West

War between North and South America is averted when the governments of both nations are captured and impressed to do the fighting.

I like the sentiment: politicians would be a lot less willing to send their sons (and daughters) to war if their lives were on the line.  But the story is just sort of silly and obvious.

Besides, who could believe that an armed mob could invade the Capitol to kidnap Congress?  It beggars the imagination.

Two stars.

They Hilariated When I Hyperspaced For Earth, by Richard Wilson


by Vaughn Bodé

The leader of a boring world that has stalled in its progressive mediocrity comes to Earth to steal our Secretary General, an efficient Ugandan who knows how to get things done.  A lot of "comedy" ensues.

Not only is the story a bore, but I can't forgive it for getting "They all Laughed" stuck in my head.

Two stars.

The Trojan Bombardment, by Christopher Anvil

How we defeat an enemy without firing a shot?  Why by shooting shells filled with booze, cigarettes, and sexy ladies at them!  After all, that's what they're really fighting for, isn't it?

Fellow traveler Cora Buhlert recently noted that she can smell a Campbell reject a mile away, and Bombardment is almost assuredly an Anvil story too stupid even for Analog.

One star.

The Discovery of the Nullitron, by Thomas M. Disch and John Sladek

Speaking of stupid, here's another "funny" piece, in the style of a Scientific American article, on the new decidedly supra-atomic particle called the Nullitron, putatively discovered by the authors after a jag in Ibiza.

One star.

Thus We Frustrate Charlemagne, by R. A. Lafferty

A dozen of the Earth's greatest scientists team up with a computer to improve history.  Their first time traveling target: to salvage relations between Charlemagne and the Caliph, allowing Arabic knowledge to flow freely.  They will know that they have succeeded because all of their records will change before their eyes!

Of course, if they had read William Tenn's The Brooklyn Project, they'd know that, as part of the time stream themselves, they'd never know what had changed.

Still, it's kind of a fun piece.  The journey's the thing, not the destination.

Three stars.

The Palace of Love (Part 3 of 3), by Jack Vance


by Gray Morrow

The saving grace of this magazine is this final installment of Vance's latest serial.  Keith Gersen has tracked down Viole Falushe, one of the five "Demon Kings" crime lords who killed his parents, to the mobster's private domain.  The Palace of Love is a mystical retreat, designed to provide pleasure to discerning patrons.  But its staff and denizens are all slaves of Falushe, though they aren't completely aware of the fact.

Half of this last act involves the long, meandering road to Falushe's Palace of Love.  It is only in the final sixth that we learn the truth about the place, who Drusilla is and her relation to Falushe's object of childhood infatuation, Jheral Tinzy, and whether or not Gersen can succeed in his revenge.

I found it all gripping stuff.  Vance has a knack for sensual writing; you always know what things smell like, what color they are, how they sound.  Yet the prose is never overlabored.  If the first book in the series starts auspiciously and ends with a dull thud, this second one only has one slow patch, in its second sixth.

For that reason, I give this installment and the book as a whole four stars, and it'll be in the running for the Galactic Star at the end of the year.

Summing up

Even with Palace shoring things up, this month's Galaxy clocks in at a dismal 2.4 stars.  And given that the Vance is likely to end up published in paperback, it's probably not even worth buying this mag for the one story (unless, of course, you want the serial complete in original form).

I'll be surprised if Galaxy doesn't come in last this month.  I'll also be really disappointed in that event; I don't think I could easily face another, worse slog!

That would truly be the ugliest month I've ever seen…





[January 6, 1967] Happy Anniversary (February 1967 Amazing)


by John Boston

January 6!  A portentous anniversary!  On this day in 1838, Samuel Morse publicly demonstrated the telegraph, sending a message two miles; and in 1912, German geophysicist Alfred Wegener announced his theory of the continental drift, to much skepticism until very recently.


by Arnold Kahn

The February 1967 Amazing is here too, in a burst of bright yellow surrounding a glum-looking guy who seems to have a head problem.  The table of contents captions Arnold Kahn’s cover as Slaves of the Crystal Brain; research reveals it first appeared as the cover of the May 1950 Amazing, where the head was bordered in black rather than yellow.  It is hard to imagine why anyone thought the change to be an improvement.  However, the subject’s disgruntled expression so acutely characterizes the issue that I fear my comments may be superfluous.

Born Under Mars (Part 2 of 2), by John Brunner

The prolific and versatile John Brunner has provided us with such thoughtful works as The Whole Man and such well-turned entertainments as Echo in the SkullBorn Under Mars, unfortunately, is neither, though it might be viewed as a caricature of both, with an overstuffed action plot against a background of Big Thinks that seem to have been drawn with a crayon.


by Gray Morrow

In the future, Earth has established interstellar colonies, their nations and residents known as Centaurs and Bears respectively.  Mars, earlier colonized, has become unfashionable and neglected in this new and larger configuration, and its inhabitants are a bit resentful about it.  These include Ray Mallin, a space engineer who has just returned to Mars on a Centaur ship, only to find himself kidnapped and tortured with a nerve whip to obtain information he does not have about the ship he arrived on. 

There ensues much to-ing and fro-ing as Mallin tries to find out what is going on, including reliance on outrageous coincidence: Mallin, at the Old Temple containing ancient Martian artifacts, pushes on a random spot on the wall, which opens to reveal the room where he was nerve-whipped, along with one of the perpetrators.  He returns the favor of torture and interrogation but his former tormentor knows nothing. 

Eventually Mallin corners his old mentor Thoder and the Big Thinks begin to emerge.  Humanity is stagnating, with no major scientific breakthroughs for a couple of centuries, and needs to get a lot smarter.  How?  They don’t really know, but “a pair of strongly opposed societies was devised: the Bears, happy-go-lucky, casual, living life as it came, and the Centaurs, thinking hard about everything and especially about their descendants.” In effect they are trying eugenics by bank shot: creating societies to order to see if either one of them breeds—literally—the intellectual superpeople who are needed (i.e., those who have “a talent—extra psychological muscle if you like”). 

And who contrived all this, and how did they manage to keep it secret, and what rational basis is there to believe that anyone can create societies to order and have them stick to the program for the generations necessary for this project?  How is manipulating social arrangements and behavior going to jump-start human heredity?  Is Lamarck consulting on this project?  There’s no pretense of an explanation; these large concepts are merely brandished like slogans on placards.

But—the author asserts—it’s worked!  Six generations early, in fact, unto the Centaurs is born an infant who will have “an IQ at the limits of the measurable, empathy topping 2000, Weigand scale, and virtually every heritable talent from music to mathematics, all transmissible to his descendants!” And he’s here!  He’s, as Hitchock would put it, the macguffin everyone has been chasing after, torturing Mallin en passant because this miracle child, kidnapped, was brought to Mars on the ship Mallin rode on. 

So what’s the plan?  Educate him on Mars.  “Then, when he’s grown, to use the random mixing of genetic lines available in Bear society to spread a kind of ferment through half the human race.” In other words, this kid is intended to grow up to be a playboy in interstellar Bohemia, and that’s how humanity will be transformed.

But wait—now somebody has snatched the kid away from the people who snatched the kid!  More hurly-burly ensues, along with more elevated yakety-yak, and in the last 20 pages a Girl emerges for the hero to get.  And there’s a redeeming note: she wants to know what the hell all these people are doing treating an infant like nothing but an object to be manipulated, which doesn’t seem to have occurred to anyone previously.

Born Under Mars is another of many examples of pseudo-profundity in SF: the semblance of large ideas waved around without the author’s doing the work of thinking them through and making them plausible, or abandoning them when their implausibility becomes obvious.  Brunner is certainly not the only offender of this sort, but he seems sufficiently capable that I expected better of him.

Bah, humbug.  Oh, wait, that was last month.  Two stars, mainly for effort.

Tumithak of the Corridors, by Charles R. Tanner

“Special,” says the cover, about Charles R. Tanner’s Tumithak of the Corridors—a “complete novel” at 56 pages per the table of contents.  The interior blurb calls it “as good as early Wells, as fresh as the latest Zelazny.” And indeed this story, from the January 1932 Amazing, does have a certain reputation among older fans.


by Leo Morey

It seems that humans made it to Venus, whose inhabitants, called shelks for no reason I can discern, had no idea there was anything outside their eternal clouds.  But once they found out, they proceeded straightway to build their own space fleet (“All over the planet, the great machine-shops hummed and clattered”) to invade Earth.  Earth responded by creating great underground fastnesses, full of corridors of sorts, and after losing the war, humans fled into their deepest recesses and regressed to ignorance and barbarism.  But—of course—one brave young man will not accept humanity’s fate.  He has found an old book that recounts the history of the shelks’ invasion, and he is going to find his way the surface to kill a shelk!

This mass of cliches actually turns into a pretty good old-fashioned story.  Tanner’s style is clear and uncluttered.  Tumithak is presented as heroic but not superhuman.  His odyssey through the corridors, including the territories of other human tribes (one of them not too friendly), manages not to become any more ridiculous than the starting premises, except for a portion towards the end in the territory of the Esthetts (sic!) which is all right because it’s purposefully satirical.  Altogether, the story is a fairly charming relic.  Three stars, and by the standards of its times it would merit more.

Methuselah, Ltd., by Wallace West and Richard Barr

Methuselah, Ltd. (from Fantastic, November-December 1953), is as you might guess about immortality, or its absence.  In the future, disease, disability, and aging have been conquered by the Life Ray, but people still die around age 90.  Dr. Weinkopf, age 88, would like to do something about this, and he thinks it has something to do with the pineal gland, and with “brain sand”—calcareous salts with a “concentric laminated structure” found in the brain after death, it says here.  Surgery has been made illegal, but there is an underground Society for the Preservation of Surgical Techniques that performs operations in speakeasy fashion before an audience of sadists.  Dr. Weinkopf hopes to piggyback on a brain tumor operation to remove the pineal and dig out the brain sand.  But the patient, hearing talk of this plan, chickens out and leaves.  By the rules of the Society, the jilted surgeon must be subjected to surgery himself, so the doctor chooses to have his nurse do the surgery on him, with predictable bad end looming as the story ends.  This is apparently intended as a sort of farcical black comedy, but it’s not especially funny and is just as big a mess as my description suggests.  The authors should improve their farce technique by studying the works of Ron Goulart—not the kind of sentence I ever expected to write.  One star.

The Man with Common Sense, by Edwin James


by Leo Morey

The other reprinted short story, from the July 1950 Amazing, is The Man with Common Sense, by Edwin James, an early pseudonym of James E. Gunn.  It’s another dreary farce, though better-wrought than Methuselah, Ltd.  Malachi Jones is a “dapper, wizened little man” equipped with cane and derby hat who is an interstellar insurance agent for Lairds of Luna.  Lairds has issued a policy guaranteeing peace on Mizar II, and Jones is there to make sure Lairds doesn’t have to pay off.  He tames the planet’s rebels and makes peace in the accidental company of one Rand Ridgeway, who is distinguished mainly by his stupidity (en route, he takes his shoes off and forgets to put them back on).  Two stars, barely.  Here’s another case for Ron Goulart.

Two Days Running and Then Skip a Day, by Ron Goulart


by Gray Morrow

Speaking of Ron Goulart, here is the man himself, with the issue’s only new short story, Two Days Running and Then Skip a Day.  Goulart has been on a tear about the medical profession for a while; see his Calling Dr. Clockwork in the March 1965 Amazing, about a man who winds up in the hospital and then can’t get out, and Terminal, in the May 1965 Fantastic, about a nursing home system designed mainly to get rid of the troublesome elderly and the even more troublesome investigators.  Here, Goulart tees off, or I should say flails in all directions, against celebrity doctors who can’t be bothered with their patients, robot assistants of dubious competence, modern apartments and appliances that are badly built, sleazy landlords, and I probably missed something.  It’s insubstantial but amusing, which seens to sum this writer up, and to compare favorably with Gunn and West/Barr, whose entries are merely insubstantial.  Three stars, barely.

Summing Up

As I said at the beginning, the expression on the cover acutely captures the contents of the issue, and requires no elaboration.


by Arnold Kahn (detail)



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




[September 8, 1966] The Bare Hardly-Essentials (October 1966 Amazing)


by John Boston

Last issue, the good news was that the customary editorial was dropped.  In this October Amazing, there’s more good news—the self-serving letter column is gone too.  Since there are only four items of fiction here, it makes for a scanty contents page.  That is not necessarily bad.


by Frank R. Paul

The cover is by Frank R. Paul, captioned Martian Spaceships Invade New York, reprinted from the back cover of the May 1941 Amazing.  Like last issue’s cover by James B. Settles, it is significantly cropped from the original.  The image also bears a very superficial similarity to last issue’s cover.  The difference between Paul and Settles, though, calls to mind Mark Twain’s remark about the difference between the lightning and the lightning-bug.  Even in his waning days, Paul did archaic style with class. 

Ensign Flandry, by Poul Anderson

The main reason for the sparse contents page is the very long (100 pages) feature item, Poul Anderson’s Ensign Flandry.  Anderson began his series about Flandry, intelligence agent of the Terran Empire, desultorily, producing four shorter stories from 1951 to 1958.  Then there was a spasm of three novellas for Fantastic and Amazing in 1959 and 1960, all of which were transformed almost instantly into Ace Doubles.  Last year, however, most of the Flandry canon was compiled into hardcover collections from Chilton, Flandry of Terra and Agent of the Terran Empire.

Now Flandry is back with this novel, which suggests that Anderson intends to spin him into a character with the raffishness of James Bond and the career longevity of Horatio Hornblower, providing a framework and formula for potboilers as far as the eye can see.  That’s a fine plan for the author but not so good for the reader looking for something more than product.


by Gray Morrow

So: Ensign Flandry, age 19, is dispatched to Starkad, a remote planet inhabited by a seafaring species, the Tigery, and a sea-dwelling species, the Seatrolls, who are fighting a sort of proxy war, backed by the Terran Empire and Merseia respectively, with overtones (emphasis on the “overt”) of the Cold War and Vietnam. 

Flandry is there with his wise mentor, and they are trying to neutralize the soft-on-Merseia peacenik who is nominally on their side.  There is a lot of intrigue and double-dealing and opportunity for Flandry to be in danger and distinguish himself and become the bigger shot we’ve seen in the earlier stories.  Anderson being the professional he is, there’s a secret and a revelation at the end that trumps everything else that’s been going on, distinguishing the work from the wholly formulaic.  But still—it’s mostly formulaic, maybe decent airport reading if your plane is delayed.  Two stars.

The Space Witch, by Walter M. Miller, Jr.

The Space Witch, by Walter M. Miller, Jr., from the November 1951 Amazing, is a piece of work, in the more extreme sense of that phrase.  Protagonist Kenneth Johnson has invited his ex-wife Marcia and her new milquetoast husband for a stay at his lake cottage.  His feelings are still raw, and Marcia is a self-centered and manipulative sexpot.  The overwrought psychodrama is interrupted by a mysterious dark cloud which generates an intense local storm, causing Ken and Marcia to take refuge in his boat as a gleaming metallic sphere appears and Marcia decompensates (“Own me like a piece of furniture, Kennie.  That’s what I want to be.”). 


by Edward Valigursky

The boat gets sucked out into the lake, Marcia drowns, Ken gets pulled into the sphere, and Marcia reappears, except it’s not really Marcia.  “We found it necessary to adopt her image, because she was the only thinkhuman [sic] available for detailed biosimulation.” Non-Marcia explains that she is a fugitive from her race and has been hiding on the Moon for 30 years watching Earth, but now her kin-aliens have tracked her down and are about to destroy the area for 150 miles around.  There ensues a discussion of options for preserving themselves and half of New England, which turns into more and higher-volume psychodrama and back-stabbing, and an ending that can only be described as twisted.  Miller’s first story, Secret of the Death Dome, was a bit crazy.  This one is a lot crazy, and Miller is getting better at crazy.  Three stars.

Mr. Dimmitt Seeks Redress, by Miles J. Breuer

Miles J. Breuer’s Mr. Dimmitt Seeks Redress (from the August 1936 Amazing) is about as tiresome as its title.  Mr. Dimmitt is a mild-mannered shrimp of a scientist.  His wife and children have been killed in a car accident caused by the reckless driving of the rich bully Graw.  Back in the lab, Dimmitt is accidentally exposed to an experimental substance that drastically slows time for him.  Initially he is frightened.  “He had read of persons who had tried a dose of cannabis indicia [sic] having terrifying experiences from the effects of the drug.  Was the effect of this thing going to be permanent?” It isn’t, but he doses himself again, goes out for a walk, sees Graw speeding (crawling, to Dimmitt) towards his house, and grabs Graw’s young son who is playing in the yard and puts him in the path of the car, too close to stop.  The gimmicky story has a gimmicky ending.  Two stars.

Eddie for Short, by Wallace West

Wallace West, he of the appalling The Last Man, seems to have learned some things in the course of two decades.  In Eddie for Short (from the December 1953-January 1954 issue), World War III seems to have killed everybody except Lita, a lounge singer in Miami, whose husband has just died of radiation poisoning at his post in the radio station that is broadcasting her, leaving everything going.  So, having not much else to do, she keeps on singing every night.


by Ernie Barth

Then, one night . . . someone is following her.  It’s Verna, a Negro woman from Key West, who speaks in a thick stereotypical accent, and who has heard Lita on the radio and trekked to Miami in search of her.  She’s going to take care of Lita, which is a good thing, since Lita turns out to be pregnant.  So Verna takes care of the household chores while Lita “literally hurl[s] herself” at the City Library and then at the local university, educating herself, since now it seems the world is not going to end (she’s convinced herself she’s carrying twins of opposite sex). 

It’s easy to make fun of this story’s racial stereotypes, but hey, it’s not bad for 1953, and West means well.  Also he’s a lot better writer than he was in 1929, and he’s still at it (he hit Analog and Magazine of Horror last year).  So, some positive reinforcement: three stars.

Summing Up

For a change, the reprinted material (some of it) has more going for it than the new material, and neither is too awful.  It’s a relief.



(And don't forget to tune in tonight at 8:30 PM (Pacific AND Eastern — two showings) for the world television premier of Star Trek!)

Come join us!




[April 8, 1966] Search Parties (May 1966 Fantastic)


by Victoria Silverwolf

Keep Watching the Skies!

The good citizens of Michigan were recently reminded of the warning I've quoted above, from 1951's The Thing from Another World (a loose cinematic adaptation of John W. Campbell's 1938 novella Who Goes There?).


Father and son describe what they saw.

Folks in Washtenaw County (just look for the city of Ann Arbor on the map, and you're smack dab in the middle of it) reported seeing strange lights in the sky last month. Supposedly, a UFO even landed in a swampy area near the tiny community of Dexter Township.


Looks like a classic flying saucer to me.

About one hundred people witnessed these phenomena. Naturally, the federal government got involved. They sent astronomer J. Allen Hynek to the area to check things out. Reportedly, he thinks at least some of the sightings can be explained as swamp gas. One politician isn't so sure.


Note that the article uses the phrase marsh gas. One person's swamp is another person's marsh, I suppose.

Gerald R. Ford is a United States Congressman from the Grand Rapids district of Michigan, so this situation strikes close to home for him. (He's a Republican, and the Minority Leader of the House of Representatives. Maybe this event will make him famous.)

Here's a picture of Representative Ford and wife Betty on a recent fishing trip, so you'll recognize him if his face shows up in the news in times to come.

It Makes a Fellow Proud to Be a Soldier

While some Americans are tracking down UFO's, others are searching for ways to justify their nation's involvement in the conflict in Vietnam. As a counterpoint to the many demonstrations against the war, a patriotic song celebrating the heroism of the Army Special Forces has been at the top of the charts for several weeks. The Ballad of the Green Berets, sung by Sergeant Barry Sadler, seems to have struck just the right note with many conservative music lovers.


Personally, I prefer the Tom Lehrer song I have alluded to above.

Hunting Through the Pages

Meanwhile, I've been searching for good reading. Take, for example, the latest issue of Fantastic. Fittingly, many of the stories feature characters who are on quests of one kind or another.


Art by Frank R. Paul.

(I might add that I had to search through piles of old pulp magazines to find the original source of the magazine's cover art. It turned out to be the back cover of the September 1944 issue of Amazing Stories.)


Confused? We'll get to an explanation of this weird scene later in the issue.

The Phoenix and the Mirror, by Avram Davidson

Let's begin our journey with a new novella from the former editor of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.


Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

The author's introductory note explains that the ancient Roman poet Virgil, author of the Aeneid, was depicted as a sorcerer in legends of the Middle Ages. (Davidson prefers the spelling Vergil, which I will use for the name of the fictional character in this story. He also prefers nigromancer to necromancer and Renascence to Renaissance, but that's typical erudite eccentricity on his part.) He also notes that this tale is the first part of a series to be called Vergil Magus.

Anyway, we begin in medias res, with Vergil trying to escape from an underground labyrinth full of malevolent manticores. (These are not the lion-scorpions of myth, but something more like large, clever weasels.) He manages to get out, winding up at the palace of an aristocrat with magical powers. She forces him to undertake the extremely difficult quest of creating a very special enchanted mirror, so she can see where in the world her daughter might be. He can't say no, because she steals one of his souls.

You read that right. People in this world have more than one soul, it seems. Losing one isn't fatal, but it seems to be so traumatic an event that Vergil feels compelled to undertake the nearly impossible task. He has to obtain unrefined tin and copper ore from the far ends of the known world, and then form the mirror through a long and laborious process. After many struggles, with the help of his alchemist sidekick, he manages to complete this onerous undertaking.


The mirror in use.

That isn't the end of his troubles, however. After instantly falling in love with the daughter after one glimpse in the mirror, he treks through desert wastelands, with an enigmatic Phoenician at his side, to rescue her from a Cyclops.


The lady and the cyclops.

This isn't the typical brutal, dimwitted Cyclops from mythology, but an intelligent, even sensitive creature. Multiple plot twists follow, and we find out why a phoenix is mentioned in the title.

Davidson keeps his baroque writing style under control here, and the plot is cleverly crafted. The background, which is kind of a mixture of the ancient world and the Middle Ages, with a strong dose of pure fantasy, is unique and interesting. Some readers may be impatient with several pages describing in great detail the exact method of creating the mirror, but I found it fascinating.

My one major complaint is that Vergil's lengthy and dangerous voyage to obtain copper ore is skipped over almost entirely, related in just a few sentences of flashback. I would like to learn more about his adventures there. Maybe Davidson plans to expand this novella into a novel, as authors of science fiction and fantasy often do. Otherwise, I greatly enjoyed this witty and imaginative excursion into a past that never existed.

Four stars.

Seven Came Back, by Clifford D. Simak


Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones.

As usual, the rest of the magazine is filled up with reprints. Let's start with a tale from the pages of the October 1950 issue of Amazing Stories.


Illustrations by Arthur Hutah.

The setting is Mars, the favorite world of SF writers. Like many fictional versions of the red planet, this is a place where humans can survive without spacesuits. It's still a very dangerous environment, however, with all sorts of deadly creatures living in the endless desert.

The protagonist is on a quest to find the fabled lost city of the nearly extinct Martians. He hires a couple of tough guys to guide him through the wasteland. As we'll see, this turns out to be a big mistake.

Six Martians show up at their camp. It seems that they're the last of their kind, and they think that the men can lead them to a seventh. The Martians have seven sexes, you see, and this is their last chance to reproduce. (That must certainly make things complicated.)

If the humans help them out, they'll take them to the city, which is supposed to be full of fabulous treasures. The two roughnecks take off on their own, leaving the protagonist alone in the deadly desert.

Things get a lot stranger after this, and I don't want to give too much away. Suffice to say that the main character manages to survive, wins an unexpected ally, and has a mystical experience at the city.


The lost Martian city.

At first, I thought this was more or less a science fiction Western, with the hero heading for a showdown with the no-good polecats who left him to die. I have to admit that the plot went in completely unexpected directions. I'm still pondering the meaning of the ending. The author mixes space adventure with his usual warmth and concern for all living things and a touch of Bradbury's magical Mars.

Four stars.

The Third Guest, by B. Traven

The mysterious author of The Treasure of the Sierra Madre offers a fable of life and death that appeared in the March-April 1953 issue of Fantastic.


Cover art by Richard Powers.

Like everything else about the author, the provenance of this story is puzzling. As far as I have been able to determine, it was written under the title The Healer, was first published in German in 1950 as Macario, and somehow wound up with its current title when it showed up in Fantastic.


Illustrations by Tom O'Sullivan.

One of the few facts known about the author is that he — or she? — lives in Mexico, the setting for most of his — or her? — fiction. This tale is no exception. It takes place when the region was still known as New Spain, during the colonial period.

Macario, a dirt-poor woodcutter, barely manages to feed himself, his wife, and their many children. For most of his life, his greatest dream has been to eat an entire roast turkey by himself. Over several years, his wife saves the tiny payments she receives for doing chores for slightly less poverty-stricken folks. She buys a turkey, prepares it exquisitely, and presents it to her husband, telling him to go into the woods and devour it alone.

Before he can enjoy the delicious feast, however, three strange visitors show up. The first is a sinister fellow, richly dressed. He offers Macario enormous wealth for a share of the turkey. Macario refuses.


The first guest.

The second one is poorly dressed, gentle, and saintly. Despite his kindly manner, Macario again refuses to share his meal. The visitor blesses him anyway.


The second guest.

The third guest, as the title suggests, is the one most vital to the plot. Macario knows he cannot refuse this cadaverous figure, so he at least manages to keep half of the turkey for himself. In exchange, the guest gives him an elixir that will cure all ills, but only if the visitor chooses who will live and who will die. The rest of the story follows Macario as he wins a reputation as a great healer. A summons from the Viceroy of New Spain, whose child is dying, leads to a final confrontation with the third guest.

This is a remarkable fantasy, with the simplicity of a folktale but the sophistication of great literature. It appeared in The Best American Short Stories 1954 (edited by Martha Foley), so I'm not alone in my opinion. It was even made into a Mexican movie in 1960, which you might be able to catch at your local arthouse cinema, if you don't mind subtitles.

Five stars.

The Tanner of Kiev, by Wallace West

The last time we met this author, it was with a reprint of the antifeminist dystopia The Last Man, to which my esteemed colleague John Boston awarded one star. Even if we ignore that story's political stance, it's poorly written. Will this tale, from the October 1944 issue of Fantastic Adventures, be any better? It could hardly be worse.


Cover art by J. Allen St. John.

The first thing to keep in mind is that this is a story about World War Two, written and published during the height of the conflict. You have to expect Our Side to be heroic Good Guys, and Their Side to be sadistic Bad Guys. In particular, the Soviets are definitely on the side of the angels here.


Illustrations by Malcolm Smith.

The hero parachutes behind enemy lines in Nazi-occupied Ukraine. His mission is to deliver a radio transmitter to the underground resistance. Things get weird pretty quickly, as he runs into an immortal magician from Russian folklore.


The wizard and his pets.

Next thing you know, he's at the chicken-legged hut of the legendary old witch Baba Yaga. None of this supernatural stuff seems to bother him, and soon he's on his way into Kiev. He contacts the Russian guerillas, including the pretty female one with whom he falls in love. With the help of the warlock and witch, as well as a talking squirrel and a were-rat, the brave Soviets overcome the craven Germans.

Given the fact that, inevitably, a wartime story is going to paint things in black and white, this isn't a bad yarn at all. It's pretty well written, and the wild and wooly plot held my interest. The changes in mood from whimsical to romantic to horrific are disconcerting, and the love story is a little sappy, but's it worth a read.

Three stars.

Wolf Pack, by Walter M. Miller, Jr.


Cover art by Leo Summers.

The Second World War is also the background for this story, from the September-October 1953 issue of Fantastic, but this time the battle rages in Italy instead of the Soviet Union.


Illustrations by Bernard Krigstein.

The main character is the pilot of an American bomber who has already flown nearly fifty missions, raining destruction from the skies. He has recurring dreams about a alluring woman he thinks of as La Femme, or just La. It would be easy to dismiss this as a predictable fantasy for a young man deprived of female company for an extended period of time, or as an idealized image of his girlfriend back home. Yet she seems very real, and he appears to be in some kind of telepathic communication with her, even while awake.


The woman known as La.

During his latest bombing run, he nearly aborts the mission, terrified that he might destroy her. The other members of the crew have to physically restrain him to complete their gruesome task.


A bomber's world.

The author was a radio operator and tail gunner during World War Two, participating in as many bombing missions over Italy as the story's protagonist. It's no surprise, then, that the details of life as a bomber pilot are extremely realistic and convincing.   Miller took part in the bombing of the Benedictine Abbey at Monte Cassino in 1944, which certainly had an influence on the writing of his award-winning novel A Canticle for Leibowitz (1959), already considered a modern classic.

Unlike the previous story, which, understandably, was full of gung-ho patriotic glory (much like Sergeant Sadler's hit song, come to think of it) this is a somber, emotionally powerful account of the way that war turns men into machines, and how the innocent suffer as much as the guilty.

Five stars.

Betelgeuse, in Orion: The Walking Cities of Frank R. Paul, by Anonymous

I wasn't sure if I should even bother discussing this little article, but what the heck. It originally appeared under the slightly different title Stories of the Stars: Betelgeuse in Orion, supposedly by a Sergeant Morris J. Steele in the September 1944 issue of Amazing Stories. This is probably a pseudonym for the magazine's editor, Raymond A. Palmer, but I can't prove that.


Cover art by Julian S. Krupa.

Anyway, after some facts about the giant star, we get wild speculation about the beings who might live there. It's pretty much just a way to fill up some space.

Two stars.

The End of the Search

Well, my search for enjoyable fiction certainly paid off! This was an outstanding issue. Even the worst story was pretty good, and the best were excellent. It makes me ponder my skepticism about reprinting old stuff. After all, I don't complain when an movie from yesteryear shows up on television, as long as it's a good one.


Check your local listings to see if this decade-old classic will be showing in your area any time soon.






[March 6, 1966] Is More Less? (April 1966 Amazing)


by John Boston

Two Weeks in Philadelphia

“GIANT 40TH ANNIVERSARY ISSUE”
“BIG 196 PAGES”

These are the blurbs on the cover of the April Amazing.  Yeah, and W.C. Fields said, “Second prize is two weeks in Philadelphia.” After February’s dreary procession of the better forgotten from Amazing’s back files, the promise of an all-reprint issue with 32 more pages is dubious at best.  The architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe likes to say, “Less is more.” We are about to test the converse hypothesis.


by Frank R. Paul, Robert Fuqua, and Hans Wessolowski

But first, the setting for this diamond.  You see the drab cover, with the collage of tiny reproductions of early Amazing covers crowded to the edge by a bulldozer of type.  Inside, besides the fiction, there is Hugo Gernsback’s editorial from the first issue of Amazing, no more interesting than you would expect, and a two-page letter column, which unlike prior columns includes a letter critical of the reprint policy.  More interesting and commendable is A Science-Fiction Portfolio: Frank R. Paul Illustrating H.G. Wells, seven pages of illustrations from early issues of Amazing featuring Wells reprints. 

But onward, to the fiction.  To begin, or to warn, I should note that much of this issue is dedicated to Big Thinks: the fate of humanity, the proper roles of the sexes in human society, and . . . class struggle!

Beast of the Island, by Alexander M. Phillips

Things begin reasonably well, and not too grandiosely, with Alexander M. Phillips’s Beast of the Island, from the September 1939 Amazing.  A couple of guys are plane-wrecked on an uninhabited Pacific island and discover there seems to be some large animal snuffling around—an animal that can talk, or try to.  On exploration, they find a cave, complete with ancient skeleton and trunk, which contains a journal detailing the failed struggle of some 17th century sailors to survive the attacks of this terrible beast, foreshadowing their own struggle.  This is a quite competent adventure story and the ultimate revelation of the nature of the beast (not to coin a phrase) is reasonably clever for its time.  Three stars.


by Robert Fuqua

The mostly-forgotten Phillips first appeared in Amazing in 1929 and published about a dozen stories in the SF/F magazines, the last in 1947.  Best known of these is probably his fantasy novel The Mislaid Charm, published first in Unknown, then in hardcover by Prime Press, one of the early SF specialty publishers.  He is also that unusual figure, a pro turned fan, having become a mainstay of the Philadelphia Science Fiction Society, which did not exist when he started writing. 

Intelligence Undying, by Edmond Hamilton

Edmond Hamilton’s Intelligence Undying, from the April 1936 issue, is in equal measure splendid and ridiculous.  The brilliant but elderly Doctor John Hanley, frustrated because life is too short to complete all the work he has imagined, has a solution: he orders up a newborn infant (prudently, a “white male child”) from the legions of abandoned children, and decants the contents of his brain into the child’s.  (Never mind that old country saying about trying to put ten pounds of . . . whatever . . . into a five-pound bag.) This kills the old Hanley, but he has named a young graduate student friend to be the child’s guardian.

That is an interesting set-up, but Hamilton immediately abandons it.  We flash forward to John Hanley the 21st, interrupted in his laboratory in the year 3144 because the rocket ships of the Northern and Southern Federations are fighting.  (“The fools, the blind fools!  After I’ve worked a thousand years and more to give them greater and greater powers, and they use them—.”) Soon enough the victorious Northerners show up to “protect” him, so he immobilizes them and the rest of the world by activating a device that disturbs their semi-circular canals so no one can stand up.  Hanley announces to the world that nations are abolished and he will be ruling them now.  Wounded, he orders the Northerners to go immediately and pick him up another male child.


by Leo Morey

Flash forward again to John Hanley 416, or the Great Jonanli, as he is worshiped worldwide.  The world’s population is idle, supported by the great automated factories Jonanli has established.  But now, he announces to the world, he has discovered that the Sun is about to collapse, rendering Earth uninhabitable.  There is nothing for it but to move to Mercury!  “There was stunned silence and then from the view-screens came back to him a tremendous, wailing outcry of terror. ‘Save us, Jonanli!  Save us from this death that comes upon us!’ ” He tells them that they’ve got to do some work to save themselves but just gets more wailing in return.

So the Great Jonanli reprograms (as our great scientists would put it today) all the auto-factories to crank out robots to build the spaceships, give Mercury some rotation (it was not known in 1936 that it does rotate), terraform it (as we put it today), build cities, and start plants growing.  “The humans of Earth helped in none of this but lay supine in terror, crying out constantly to Jonanli and staring in terror at the sun.”

As the sun visibly falters, Earth’s population is ushered onto the spaceships, ferried to Mercury, and dumped there by the robots, who then destroy themselves.  John Hanley stays on Earth awaiting the end and dies buried in snow, having learned his lesson, leaving humanity to figure out once more how to take care of itself.

Technological progress leading to stagnation and rebirth (or the lack of it) is of course one of the great themes of SF, both its regular practitioners and drop-ins like that E.M. Forster guy.  Here Hamilton renders it with studied crudeness, a comic book without the pictures, terror and majesty pitched to the guy reading the racing form on the subway, forget the Clapham omnibus.  Three stars for this absurd tour de force.

Woman’s Place

Two of the stories courageously address the question that haunts . . . somebody’s . . . mind: what is to be done about women—and before it’s too late!  Two tales of women-dominated societies probe this urgent question.

The Last Man, by Wallace West

Brightness falls from the air in Wallace West’s The Last Man (from the February 1929 issue); all ridiculous, no splendor, Sexists in the saddle, bad taste in mouth.  In the far future, men have been abolished.  “The enormous release of feminine energy in the twentieth to thirtieth centuries, due to the increased life span and the fact that the world had been populated to such an extent that women no longer were required to spend most of their time bearing children, had resulted in more and more usurpation by women of what had been considered purely masculine endeavors and the proper occupations of the male sex.


by Frank R. Paul

“Gradually, and without organized resistance from the ‘stronger’ sex, women, with their unused, super-abundant energy, had taken over the work of the world.  Gradually, complacent, lazy and decadent man had confined his activities to war and sports, thinking these the only worth-while things in life.

“Then, almost over night, it seemed, although in reality it had taken long ages, war became an impossibility, due to the unity of the nations of the earth, and sports were entered into and conquered by the ever-invading females.”

Artificial reproduction was developed and “the men were dispensed with altogether,” except for a few museum specimens.  Later: “In the ages which followed, great physiological changes took place.  Women, no longer having need of sex, dropped it, like a worn-out cloak, and became sexless, tall, angular, narrow-hipped, flat-breasted and un-beautiful.”

So here we are with M-1, the Last Man, physically a throwback (i.e., pretty hunky), who lives in a (rarely visited) museum with a caretaker, and is obliged to put himself on display in a glass cage one day a week for the benefit of women who want to gawk at this freak.  These women are “narrow-flanked flat-breasted workers, who stood outside the cage and gazed at him with dull curiosity on their soulless faces.”

But there’s an exception—an atavistic woman, conveniently telepathic, who shows up one night outside the glass cage, having slipped away from her keepers: “Hair red as slumberous fire—eyes blue as the heavens—a face fair as the dream face which sometimes tortured him.” Later: “her face assumed a faint pink tinge which puzzled him, yet set his pulses throbbing.” She calls herself Eve, and of course decides to call him Adam.  M-1 is horrified and fascinated, and slowly comes around to her rebellious point of view as she shows him around and takes him covertly to the birth factory, which has replaced cruder forms of reproduction.  Eve broaches the idea that they might escape and restart humanity the natural way. They are discovered, flee, and Eve hides in the museum and shares his rations.

In the museum, they find a large quantity of TNT, and hatch their plot to destroy the birth factory.  Afterwards, as they escape in a flying car, heading for the mountains, “the first rays of the rising sun splashed into the cockpit a shower of pale gold,” and never mind that they have just destroyed the prospects of a society of millions of people, like it or not.

So: women, if they don’t have to spend all their time minding children, will take over the world of work, and then somehow push men out of the world of sport (“sports were entered into and conquered by the ever-invading females”), and kill almost all of the men, and then (despite the earlier talk of “feminine energy”) create a stagnant, joyless, and regimented world in which progress has ceased and all but a few must spend twelve hours a day in tedious labor.  Whoa!  Guess we better keep them barefoot and pregnant!  Sounds like the author’s unconscious taking out its garbage.  One star, and a coupon good at any psychiatrist’s office. 

Pilgrimage, by Nelson Bond

Nelson Bond’s Pilgrimage offers a more genial take on the evils of matriarchy—that is, with less unalloyed misery on display than in The Last Man.  This story is said to be revised from its first appearance as The Priestess Who Rebelled in the October 1939 Amazing


by Stanley Kay

Civilization has fallen, and in the Jinnia Clan (not far from Delwur and Clina), the Clan Mother is in charge—of the warriors, with (like Wallace West’s future women) “tiny, thwarted breasts, flat and hard beneath leather harness-plates”; the mothers, the “full-lipped, flabby-breasted bearers of children . . . whose eyes were humid, washed barren of all expression by desires too often aroused, too often sated.” Then there are the workers: “Their bodies retained a vestige of womankind’s inherent grace and nobility. But if their waists were thin, their hands were blunt-fingered and thick.  Their shoulders sagged with the weariness of toil, coarsened by adze and hod.”

And there are the Men, with their “pale and pitifully hairless bodies,” not to mention their “soft, futile hands and weak mouths”; apparently they are in short supply and excluded from all useful activity except breeding.  There are also Wild Ones, rogue unattached males who want nothing more than to get their hands on Clan women and have their way with them.  They are sometimes recruited to join Clans, but their supply is dwindling too.

Our heroine, young Meg, has just hit puberty, and doesn’t much like the prospects she sees around her.  Nothing will do but to be a Clan Mother herself.  And with no hesitation, the wise and learned Clan Mother takes her on.  Meg learns “writing” and “numbers” and is introduced to “books.” But before she’s ready to roll as a Clan Mother, she’s got to go on her Pilgrimage to the Place of the Gods, far west and to the north.  She’s made it past the “crumbling village” of Slooie and into Braska when she is attacked by a Wild One, but saved by someone unexpected—Daiv of the Kirki tribe, “muscular, hard, firm,” who quickly tells her twice that she talks too much, and suggests that she mother a clan with him.

Daiv is quickly dismissed, and Meg sets out again, on foot, because her horse ran away during the affair of the Wild One.  But Daiv shows up again and introduces her to “cawfi,” and also to kissing.  “Suddenly her veins were aflow with liquid fire.”

At last, after the long journey northwest from Jinnia, she arrives at the Place of the Gods, and there they are: “stern Jarg and mighty Taamuz, with ringletted curls framing their stern, judicious faces; sad Ibrim, lean of cheek and hollow of eye; far-seeing Tedhi, whose eyes were concealed behind the giant telescopes.” The Gods are Men!  Real men, like Daiv!  What to do?  Return to the sterile and diminishing life of the Clan?  No!  She heads “back . . . back to the fecund world on feet that were suddenly stumbling and eager.  Back from the shadow of Mount Rushmore to a gateway where waited the Man who had taught her the touching-of-mouths.”

This of course makes very little sense, to send the Clan Mother-in training off on a pilgrimage that will undermine the entire basis of the society she is supposed to preside over, but that lapse of logic would seem to be beside the author’s urgent point.  Two stars; it’s less unpleasant than The Last Man

White Collars, by David H. Keller

White Collars, by David H. Keller, M.D., from the Summer 1929 Amazing Stories Quarterly, is a social satire, of sorts.  Keller was known for absurd extrapolation.  His most famous story may be Revolt of the Pedestrians, in which humanity has evolved, Morlocks-vs.-Eloi style, into automobilists (of cars and powered wheelchairs), whose legs have atrophied, and back-to-nature pedestrians, and of course they struggle for supremacy. 


by Hynd

Here, the trend towards more education for everybody has resulted in a huge oversupply of the college and professional school graduates, who are all too ready to remove your tonsils or teach you Greek, if only more people needed those services.  These White Collars, who are on the march with picket signs as the story opens, demand employment fitting their educations, and refuse to perform any of the practical work that is actually needed or accept the decline in social status that would go with it.  They’d rather live in desperate but genteel poverty and complain about it. 

The story consists largely of conversations between Hubler, a millionaire plumber, and Senator Whitesell, who is in the dam-building business but (as he puts it) “bought a seat in the Senate,” encouraged by his business associates, who “felt that our group was not being properly cared for.” (It’s hard to tell if this too is satire, or if everyone was a little less subtle about these things in Keller’s day.) Hubler takes Whitesell on a tour of the White Collars’ neighborhood, including a visit to the Reiswicks, the family whose daughter Hubler’s son is in love with.  The family will have none of an offer of productive but lower-status work and the daughter will have nothing to do with the son of a plumber. 

Senator Whitesell goes back to Washington, and the general problem is resolved with draconian legislation providing for involuntary servitude, complete with labor camps, and suppression of criticism.  This does wonders for formerly idle intellectuals: “They became different men and women, they sang at their work, and the number of babies born in the Labor Hospitals to happy mothers and proud fathers steadily increased.” The private problem of the Reiswicks is solved by a combination of emigration and the last-minute kidnapping and forced marriage of their daughter to the plumber’s son—but she decides she likes the idea after she sees his modern kitchen.

This of course is all mean-spirited and reactionary, as well as ridiculous, but hey, it’s satire, though Keller is no Jonathan Swift.  (And I wonder what Keller had to say a few years later about the New Deal.) Keller is at least a competent writer.  So, two stars, barely.

Operation R.S.V.P., by H. Beam Piper


by Robert Jones

Between West and Keller, we have a brief respite from gravity in H. Beam Piper’s Operation R.S.V.P., from the January 1951 issue, which presents the lighter side of the struggle for world domination.  Piper at this point had published several solid and well-received stories in Astounding, still one of the field’s leaders.  This one is flimsier: an epistolary story, told in memos among the Union of East European Soviet Republics and the United People’s Republics of East Asia, which are engaging in nuclear saber-rattling, and Afghanistan, which is outsmarting them both.  It is clever and well-turned and not much else; it aspires to little and achieves it handily.  Two stars.

The Voyage That Lasted 600 Years, by Don Wilcox

Don Wilcox, whose actual name is Cleo Eldon Wilcox, but who has also appeared as Buzz-Bolt Atomcracker (in Amazing, May 1947, for Confessions of a Mechanical Man), published SF from 1939 to 1957, almost entirely in Amazing and its companion Fantastic Adventures, mostly in the Ray Palmer era.  The Voyage That Lasted 600 Years, from October 1940, is a fairly well-known if not much-read story, chiefly because it was the first to explore the idea of a generation starship, preceding and possibly inspiring Robert Heinlein’s much more famous Universe.


by Julian Krupa

The good ship S.S. Flashaway carries 16 couples, plus the narrator, Prof. Grimstone.  He will serve as Keeper of the Traditions, traveling in suspended animation and being revived every hundred years to keep things on track, handily providing a viewpoint character for this centuries-long story.  Upon his first revival, he hears many babies crying; there is a population crisis.  Why?  Boredom, apparently.  Grimstone suggests wholesome activities: “Bridge is an enemy of the birthrate, too.” But alas: “The Councilmen threw up their hands.  They had bridged and checkered themselves to death.”

Solutions?  One character says, “We’ve got to have a compulsory program of birth control.” Prof. Grimstone in his recommendations “stressed the need for more birth control forums.” Not to be indelicate, but I don’t think people trying to avoid pregnancy use a forum.  And you’d think the people planning this trip would have made some provision for it—maybe even something futuristic, like, oh, a pill that would suppress ovulation or fertilization.  But I guess you couldn’t really talk much about that in a family magazine in 1940.

So, leap forward 100 years, and Grimstone awakes to find people lying around starving.  Babies are still the problem.  These people were born outside the quota, and by decree are not allowed to eat regularly.  Grimstone sets matters straight: everybody eats, there’s a new regime, everybody outside the quota is surgically sterilized, and inside the quota they’re sterilized after the second child.  And they’re all happy about it.

A century later, there’s no population problem, but factions are at each other’s throats, and Grimstone has to make peace.  And it goes on, century by century.  Wilcox has put his finger on the central problem of the generation ship idea: there’s no reason for the intermediate generations, who didn’t sign up for life in a big tin can and have nothing else to look forward to, to remain loyal to the mission and to keep the discipline necessary for a small community to survive for centuries.

There’s a pretty decent story here, unfortunately swathed in wisecracking Palmerish pulp style—the first line is “They gave us a gala send-off, the kind that keeps your heart bobbing up at your tonsils,” and that’s pretty representative.  It’s also weighed down by the taboos of the time in the overpopulation episode.  Wilcox gives the impression of a writer of limited gifts struggling to do justice to a substantial theme, which is both refreshing and frustrating.  Three stars, for effort and for originality in its time.

The Man from the Atom (Sequel), by G. Peyton Wertenbaker

The issue closes with G. Peyton Wertenbaker’s The Man from the Atom (Sequel)—yes, that’s the title—from the May 1926 Amazing.  You will recall that the narrator Kirby was invited over to Dr. Martyn’s place to try out his expander/contractor, pushed the Expand button like any good SF mark-protagonist of the 1920s and ‘30s, and found himself growing so large that his feet slipped off Earth and he wound up in a super-cosmos in which our universe was but an atom, trillions of years in the future.  He’s not thrilled about it, either. 


by Frank R. Paul

But he works the Shrink button and gets himself sized to land on another planet, thrusting his feet through the clouds as he downsizes.  There he falls into the hands of supercilious humanoids who imprison and interrogate him, but shortly the beautiful Vinda—daughter of the King of the planet, of course—shows up, providing “endless days of wonder and enchantment” (not biological, we are assured), and also offering a way back.  Well, not exactly back.  The way back is forward, because (after invocation of Einstein and the curvature of space), “the whole history of the universe is rigidly fore-ordained, and so, when time returns to its starting point, the course of history remains the same.” More or less, anyway.

So the humanoids make some calculations, he pushes the Expand button again, and before long arrives on (a slightly different) Earth, only to learn that Dr. Martyn has been imprisoned for murder after his disappearance, or rather, the disappearance of the corresponding Kirby in this world.  Now he's released, of course.  But after a while, home, or near-home, is not enough for Kirby; he pines for Vinda; and soon enough he is pushing the Expand button again, hoping to rejoin her in the next cycle of the universe, even if he has to fight the other version of himself that this cycle’s Dr. Martyn has previously dispatched.

This sequel is a noticeably higher class of ridiculous than its forerunner, better written and with considerably more ingenuity of detail along the way, so it laboriously climbs to two stars.

And I Only Am Escaped Alone To Tell Thee

Well, it could have been worse.  Two of these stories, Beast of the Island and, barely, The Voyage That Lasted 600 Years, are actually worth reading for reasons other than laughs or historical interest.  The rest are not, except for the overdone spectacle of Intelligence Undying.



[Don't miss TODAY'S episode of the Journey Show, starting at 1:00 PM Pacific — we have an all star cast of artists who will be doodling to YOUR specification.

Y'all come!]




[May 28, 1965] Heavyweight's Burden (June 1965 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

How the Mighty have Fallen

Since 1953, Sonny Liston has been a big name in boxing.  Liston's spectacular career, marred by a prison hitch and rumored connections with organized crime, reached its pinnacle when he defeated Floyd Patterson in 1962 to become the world heavyweight champ.

He kept the title for two years, losing it in an upset to newcomer Cassius Clay.  In last week's rematch, Clay, now named Muhammad Ali, beat Liston even more handily.  Ali looks like he'll be keeping his title for a long time.

John W. Campbell Jr.'s Astounding was the heavyweight champion of science fiction magazines in the late 1930s, standing head and shoulders above its pulp competition.  It retained this title all through the Golden Age of SF, which lasted through the 1940s.

For the last fifteen years, Astounding (now called Analog) has maintained the highest circulation numbers, by far, of the science fiction digests.  It survived the mass extinctions of the late 1950s.  Campbell is still at the tiller.

But there are signs that the old champion could become easy pickings for a scrappy newcomer.  A recent flirtation with the "slick" format and dimensions was a dismal failure. The contents of the once-proud magazine have been staid for a long time.  Then, of course, there's Campbell's personal weirdness, his obsession with fringe sciences, his odious opinions on race relations.

That's not to say Analog is an unworthy magazine, but it's got its problems.  Exhibit A of Analog's vulnerability: the latest issue.

Handicapping the Reigning Champion


Did Campbell forget his is a science fiction magazine?

If I were a gambling house, I'd want to give my champion a thorough vetting, analyzing all of its strengths and weaknesses, and coming up with odds of victory accordingly.  Let's imagine the June 1965 issue as a kind of exhibition bout and see how it does.

The Muddle of the Woad, by Randall Garrett


by John Schoenherr

The bell rings, and our champion is looking good.  Randall Garrett is back with his third Lord Darcy story, a magical mystery series set in an alternate 20th Century in which England and France are united, Poland is the big adversary, and sorcery exists alongside technology.  The Lord Detective, along with his tubby Irish spell-casting sidekick, Sean, solve the murders of the Empire's most prestigious citizens.

In the deliciously pun-titled case, Lord Camberton of Kent is found dead in a coffin intended for someone else, his body dyed blue with woad.  Suspicion immediately falls on the Albion Society, a group of druids who reject Christianity.  But is this a red herring?  As with any good mystery, the cast of suspects is limited, and the ending involves the classic summoning of all to a room for a final deduction of the culprit.

Good stuff, as always.  A fine story and a rich universe.  Four stars.

Glimpses of the Moon, by Wallace West


by John Schoenherr

Oh, but now the champion is faltering.  Wallace West, who wrote the rather delightful River of Time offers up a clunker of a tale.  It is the late 1960s, and a three-way race to the Moon between American, the Soviet Union, and Great Britain has ended in something of a tie.  While the representative of the U.S.A. clearly landed first, the Soviets claim that the Moon is the property of whichever country whose skies it happens to be in at any given time.  Thus, ownership cycles with every day.  In the end, it turns out that a fourth power has a much earlier claim on the body.

It's all very silly, but not in a particularly fun way.  Two stars.

Hydrogen Fusion Reactor, by Edward C. Walterscheid

Last month, there was an article on magnetohydrodynamics — the use of magnetic bottles to contain thermonuclear reactions.  This month, the science fact article is exclusively on nuclear fusion.  Indeed, so proud is Campbell of this piece that he gave it the cover.

I was eager to learn about the state of development of this promising power source. Sadly, Walterscheid has not yet learned how to subdivide his points. Or write interesting prose. The result is an impenetrable wall.

Hmmm.  Perhaps the article could be repurposed to line the walls of tomorrow's fusion reactor…

Two stars.  Folks, the champion is staggering!

The GM Effect, by Frank Herbert


by Robert Swanson

Oh boy. Dune author Frank Herbert is back, and with another talking head story.  Unlike his last one, which involved a congressional hearing on a widely distributed superweapon, The GM Effect is about a drug that allows takes to experience former lives.  When it is discovered that this reveals all sorts of unsavory and forgotten tidbits of history (including that a Southern senator is one-quarter black), the drug's developers decide to cancel production.  Then the military comes in, shoots the drug creators, and appropriates their creation.

Not only is the story rather pointless, it's distasteful.  Herbert seems to be gleeful that Lincoln was personally no great lover of black Americans, and when the murdering general describes the erstwhile scientists as "N*gg*r lovers," I get less the sense that the utterer is supposed to be the bad guy and more that the author was delighted to be able to squeeze the word into a story.

One star…and our champion is down, folks!  He's down!

Duel to the Death, by Christopher Anvil


by John Schoenherr

Nearly 30 years ago, Analog's editor wrote Who Goes There.  One of the genre's seminal stories, it details the infiltration of an Antarctic base by a body-snatching alien, one that spreads via touch.  The result is that one cannot tell friend from foe anymore.  It's a chilling premise that has since been used to great effect, for instance by Robert Heinlein in The Puppet Masters..

Duel is a fairly straight entry in the genre.  A spacer on a new planet has his suit punctured by some sort of dart, and he quickly succumbs to alien control.  The purloined body becomes Ground Zero of an alien invasion that quickly takes over a nearby space fleet.  Thus ensues a race against time: can the Terran Navy defeat this scourge before it absorbs the whole of humanity?

Most of this story is quite good, with some very interesting story-telling, often from the point of view of inanimate objects: the space suit of the first victim, the ship's sensors of the investigating fleet, the communications devices employed by the humans.

But, to distinguish Duel from its predecessors, the author ends the piece with a twist that doesn't quite work.  I understand it, I think, but I don't quite buy it.

Three stars — good enough to bring our champion back to his feet, but flawed enough that he leaves the ring dazed.

Summing Up

Running our champion's performance through the Star-O-Vac, we come up with a rating of just 2.5.  That's pretty bad.  In a head-to-head against the other magazines of this month (and there was a bumper crop), how would Analog have fared?

Not well, it turns out.  Partly, it's because the competition was quite strong: Fantasy and Science Fiction ended up on top with an impressive 3.5 rating.  Worlds of Tomorrow garnered 3.2 stars and Galaxy got 3.1.  Both Amazing and New Worlds got three stars, while Fantastic and Science Fantasy finished at a sub-par 2.8.

Only If ranked lower than Analog, meriting just 2.2 stars (sorry David!)

So, a disappointing performance by Campbell's mag augurs poorly for it. Will there be a Muhammad Ali of science fiction publications?

(P.S. Women wrote six of the 55 fiction pieces this month; none appeared in Analog — connection?)