Every Sunday, the New York Times publishes a list of the best selling books of the last week. It tends to be a mix of high-brow, literary novels and potboilers—especially spy thrillers—along with the occasional gothic romance and a mystery once in a blue moon. But to the best of my knowledge, it’s never had a science fiction novel prior to this year. As of the latest list, it has not one but two, both of which have been reviewed here at the Journey. There’s even a third that could be said to have sfnal elements if you stand on your head and squint a bit.
In its tenth week on the list and slipping one spot to number six is Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five. Of course, Vonnegut is none too happy about his work being labelled science fiction. Meanwhile, Michael Crichton’s The Andromeda Strain hit the list for the first time in eighth place. The potential third novel is Vladimir Nabokov’s Ada, or Ardor, which seems to be set on an Earth exactly like ours with a slightly different history or on a counter-Earth on the other side of the sun. Other than that, there doesn’t seem to be much science fiction in the plot, so I’m not really inclined to include it.
Does this mean our beloved genre has finally hit the big time? Probably not. As I said, Vonnegut doesn’t want to associate with us, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Crichton thinks of his book as a thriller. (I could be wrong, but that’s how it’s being marketed.) 2001 did all right at the box office, but was panned by critics (including some SF critics). Star Trek has been canceled, leaving Land of the Giants—a show so bad it makes Lost in Space look smart—the closest thing to SF on television. But just maybe the boundaries are weakening, even if we wind up having to sneak in the back door with those who won’t acknowledge us.
Sophomore or sophomoric?
The second issue of Mercury Publishing’s second attempt at Venture SF is on the stands. How is it? Well, before we crack it open, let’s look at the outside.
More geometric shapes and color washes. Art by Bert Tanner
If the last issue could be mistaken for a horror magazine, this one could easily be taken for a mystery. That’s probably the eye. Dell used to use an eye looking through a keyhole as the logo for their mysteries (and maybe still do; it’s been a while since I bought one), and this is very reminiscent of that. The best thing about the outside of the magazine continues to be the title logo.
The League of Grey-eyed Women, by Julius Fast
Diagnosed with terminal cancer, a desperate Jack Freeman will grasp at any straw. A Canadian doctor has had some small success injecting rats with artificial DNA, but his studies are nowhere close to being ready for human experimentation, no matter how much Jack begs. His beautiful, pale-eyed assistant, however, is willing to bend the rules, since she and the many women with gray eyes she knows have their own agenda. The treatment may cure Jack’s cancer, but it may kill him in other ways. It will certainly change his life.
This confused mess makes sense if you’ve read the book. Art by Bert Tanner
If the name Julius Fast sounds familiar, you may have read one of his well-received mysteries or one of his non-fiction books such as the one on Human Sexual Response by Masters and Johnson or last year’s book about the Beatles. (That or you’re thinking of Howard Fast, who wrote Spartacus, among many other things.) He’s not a complete stranger to SF, so he doesn’t make a lot of the mistakes that many mainstream authors do when trying to write our stuff.
That said, there are parts that don’t hold up if you think about them too hard. Some of those may be better propped up by things that were cut from this condensed version; others make no sense at all. Still, the narrative pulls the reader along, even despite Jack being a fairly unpleasant person early on. There’s enough here to make it worth reading, but you might want to see if your local library has a copy rather than spending your own money.
A solid three stars. The complete novel may come in a little higher, but probably not enough for another star.
Pollution seems to be in the news more every day. In the last two weeks alone, the Cuyahoga River in Ohio caught fire (and not for the first time) and a pesticide spill in the Rhine caused a state of emergency in West Germany and the Netherlands. What if there’s more behind it than just industrialization and a lack of concern by the government and the companies producing most of the pollution? It’s an old theme in SF, but Wellan has come up with a moderately new twist. Unfortunately, the telling is as dry and dusty as the two UN bureaucrats who are the story’s protagonists.
A high two stars.
Bradbury on Screen: A Saga Perseverance, by F.E. Edwards
It’s no secret that Ray Bradbury loves the movies. He’s written a few, and several of his stories have been adapted for the big screen, but many more have never made it into or out of production. Those that do have not served the source material well. This article follows the career of Bradbury and his work in Hollywood. Interesting but inconsequential.
Three stars.
Dragon in the Land, by Dean R, Koontz
Over the years, the focus of the military has shifted to biological warfare. A virus escaped from a Chinese lab and is so devastating it brought down the Communist government. The American doctor heading the Analysis and Immunization team that is part of the military intervention in the country must struggle with his own sense of inadequacy, which stems from growing up in the shadow of his Nobel laureate father.
Plumbing the depths of the bombed-out lab. Art uncredited
Imagine if The Andromeda Strain had ended badly and someone had to enter the ruins of the lab to find the original team’s notes; that’s the action of this story in a nutshell. I don’t think Koontz has cribbed from Crichton. The timing of the two stories makes that nearly impossible, but it implies that both men have done their homework.
I keep saying that Koontz is getting close to breaking through. This might be it. It’s certainly the best thing he’s written so far. If he can maintain this level of depth and quality, he’s going to be a big name.
Four stars.
Project Amnion, by Larry Eisenberg
A story in the style of a magazine article on efforts to teach children in the womb, it ignores countless aspects of human physiological development, not just in the brain, but the whole body. Eisenberg has apparently never met a baby. The nicest thing I can say bout this one is that at least it’s not an Emmett Duckworth story.
A low two stars.
Pithecanthropus Astralis, by Robert F. Young
A caveman questions the wisdom of the elders and breaks the rules. While this piece lacks the saccharine romantic elements that have often led me to complain about Young (who has been largely silent in the last few years), it also lacks the positive elements that his past stories have had.
Two stars.
Summing up
Elsewhere in the issue, there’s a weak Feghoot and a word scramble to see how well you know your -ologies. The condensed novel is decent, and there’s one other good story, but the rest is trivial to terrible. The cover is bad and not designed to sell the magazine, and there still isn’t much in the way of promotion over in F&SF. If things don’t turn around soon, this incarnation of Venture isn’t even going to last as long as the 10 issues of the first go-round. Let’s hope things improve in the fall.
After looking over Playboy in January and finding Vonnegut's gem of a story, I decided to check out the next few issues. This time I skipped all the political commentary (which is mostly "money is good and women should wear fewer clothes") and focused on the stories and articles potentially of interest to science fiction fans.
Cover of March 1968's Playboy. I found this the least-boring cover of the set – the only one that looks like she's having fun.
I read everything that looked remotely like it might be a science fiction story, even though some of them were a stretch. I also looked at the science-related articles. There are quite a few of them, since this covers a five-month period.
A Day in the Life of…, by Ralph Schoenstein (February)
The full title of this story is "A Day in the Life of President George Romney—Or Robert Kennedy, Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan, Martin Luther King, Charles Percy, Hubert Humphrey, Nelson Rockefeller, Lurleen and George Wallace." It's a satire inspired by Jim Bishop's A Day in the Life of President Johnson, speculating about the biographies of other potential presidents. I had hoped this involved some kind of parallel universe setting, or time travel… but no. This is just mild political commentary, a few paragraphs of satirical character study on each.
Romney awakens at 5 a.m. and scowls at his wife for addressing him by his first name. Kennedy leaps from his bed and cartwheels into the bathroom. Nixon polls his public to find out if he should get out of bed in the morning. Reagan is refraining from sex for the duration of his presidency to avoid the risk of marks. King never smiles and never argues. Humphrey worships LBJ and calls him "Big Daddy."
As satire: 3 stars. As science fiction: 1 star–there's some vague hint of multiple universes, but that's all.
Hat Trick, by Robert Coover (February)
Certainly interesting. A magician performs a hat trick – pulling bunnies, doves, another hat, and eventually, a whole assistant out of his hat. And then the story turns dark. This had some surprising twists and a disturbing ending.
4 stars; this one will stick with me.
The Chronicle of the 656th, by George Byram (March)
The set-up: a former student brings his professor a locked box, found buried under a house he'd purchased. The box contains Civil-War-era documents and objects – and a notebook dated 1944. After establishing that this was not a hoax, he'd read through the notebook: an entire army combat team had vanished from their WWII training area and found themselves in 1864. They help win a major Civil War battle, although several of the team members are conflicted – their families and ancestors are from the South.
The writing is good, but the story is not. Everyone dies, so there's no time paradox to address. It reads like normal fiction, not like a series of diary entries. I guessed the big secret as soon as they established what happened. (Secret atomic bomb testing sent them back in time! How shocking!) This must be what the mundanes think science fiction is supposed to be.
2 stars. Unless you enjoy war stories, in which case, it may be 3.
The Origin of Everything, by Italo Calvino (March)
This "story" is two vignettes that take place at the beginning of the universe – one before the Big Bang (or, mostly before), and one a bit after. They are both whimsical explorations of the idea of "people" in places where people obviously cannot exist.
The art by George Suyeoka nicely captures the feel of the story.
There's a surreal conjunction the everyday and the cosmic: Mrs. Ph(i)Nko taking Mr. De XuaeauX to bed, but since they are all in a single point before the expansion of the universe,
…"it isn't a question of going to bed, but of being there, because anybody in the point is also in the bed. Consequently, it was inevitable that she should be in bed also with each of us.
After the creation of the universe, all of the residents of the point hope to find Mrs. Ph(i)Nko again, but alas, she cannot be found; only the memory of her love for them all survives.
In the second vignette, astral children play marbles with hydrogen atoms; one child has stolen all the new atoms, and one of his companions then tricks him with fake atoms made of junk.
4 stars; this was delightful.
The Bizarre Beauties of "Barbarella" (March)
This is a pictorial review of the movie that's coming out later this year, based on the French comic, "The erotic space adventures of Barbarella." I'm not familiar with the comic, but I gather it has
Beautiful women
Wearing very few clothes
Having sex
In space
The Black Queen enjoys a dream interlude with the angel Pygar, whom she's forced to obey her will.
Fashion of the future on the planet Lythion
Barbarella rescues Pygar, and then Pygar rescues Barbarella.
I'm not rating this, but I am looking forward to the movie when it comes out.
Bucking the scientific Establishment, by Theodore J. Gordon (April)
This is a nonfiction article about innovative scientists who were initially faced with derision and insults, and were later proved to be correct. …Or rather: this is an article about innovative historical scientists, and a handful of current scientists whose theories are still considered more in the category of "crackpot" than "fact," which the author would like you to believe are very plausible, as shown by the fact that several other scientists used to be considered crackpots but are now lauded as groundbreakers in their fields.
Author seems to have skipped over the thousands of so-called scientists who were widely believed to be crackpots and later were still believed to be crackpots.
2 stars. Reasonably entertaining writing; good facts; bad science.
Papa's Planet, by William F. Nolan (April)
This is short and I wish it were forgettable. Fortunately, it's incoherent enough that most of the details will fade with time. Philip, our protagonist, is Cecile's fourth husband; her father recently died and left him the deed to a planet. The story is obviously not meant to be taken seriously ("Five million miles out from Mars, we turned sharp left and there it was: Papa's Planet"), and while it's obviously science fiction–the planet is inhabited by nothing but Hemmingway clones–there's not really any actual story here. (Is this what the mundanes think science fiction is?)
2 stars. It's not anything like good but it's not overtly bad enough for me to rank it at 1 star.
The Annex, by John D. MacDonald (May)
I had hopes for this one. It started out interesting: a nurse tending an unconscious patient, discovering he's dislodged his IV needle. Then it shifts perspective entirely: Mr. Dave Davis visits a huge, strange building, in the process of being torn down while its residents refuse to leave. There are hints that he's on some kind of assignment from an agency; he tries not to reveal exactly why he's visiting or how he got access. His guide, Mrs. Dorn, refuses to let him find his own way, insisting he'd just get lost. (It is clear that yes, he would quickly get lost.) When they reach his destination–
The story loses focus. It gets a bit surreal; while I generally enjoy surreal–see my notes about the Calvino story above–this lacks the whimsy or allure that would allow it to be more than somewhat nonsensical. Then the story shifts back to the nursing ward, where Silvia Dorn is a nurse, her beloved Dave is being kept alive by machines, and the reader is obviously meant to draw meaning from these details in a way that eluded me.
3 stars, I suppose–I can tell there's a decent story here even if it seems to want a set of assumptions I don't share.
Henne Fire, by Isaac Bashevis Singer (May)
This is told folktale-style, a story of Jewish fantasy (of a sort) rather than classic science fiction. Henne Fire is a terrible woman–she has been so awful, all her life, that she basically became a demon. Or perhaps she was born as one. She was nasty to everybody. Eventually, she became prone to random attacks of hellfire–her clothing would catch fire, or little flames would start around her. She could not even move into the poorhouse; nobody wanted a boarder who would catch houses on fire. She pleaded with the rabbi to help her, and eventually, the town made her a small brick house–basically a shack made of stone, with a tin roof.
Illustration by Bernard McDonald
The neighbors might've just shunned her after that, but one of her daughters married a rich American and started sending her money. Suddenly everyone wanted to befriend her. (This did not make her a nicer person.) One day people noticed that Henne hadn't been around for a few days, and they found her remains at home–a burnt skeleton, sitting in a chair with no mark of fire on it.
3 stars; entertaining enough.
The Dead Astronaut, by J. G. Ballard (May)
After the space age is decades past–shut down after a bloody history of orbital accidents–a married couple awaits the crash landing of their friend who died 20 years ago, so they can gather his remains.
Charle Schorre's illustration is eye-catching and does not actually capture the tone of this semi-post-apocalyptic story.
I enjoyed this story, although it is not a happy tale and it does not end well for anyone. I especially enjoyed: Mrs. Groves had been (was still?) in love with the astronaut, and her husband does not seem to have been jealous–mostly amused, and a bit concerned for her. I did not enjoy: The revelation of the ominous secret (a bit too predictable), and the final moments where the husband says, "I never asked you–" and then looks at her, and realizes he has his answer.
What that answer was, what the question was, I do not know. This was obviously written for men of a certain class, of a certain culture, who would understand the unspoken words. I can recognize the poignancy of the ending but I don't know what actually happened.
3 stars. If I'd been part of the intended audience, it probably would be 4.
The Snooping Machine, by Alan Westin (May)
Another nonfiction piece, positing a cashless, computer-data-driven society by 1975. It mentions that computer tape is so efficient a storage medium that one could hold 2000 pages of data for each of America's two hundred million citizens in a single room, on as few as a hundred reels of tape.
It discusses some history of government data-gathering, which includes both "big brother" hysteria and a pressing need for accurate data on which to base decisions. (Which regions need better school funding? Which areas might need new roads?) Government officials have admitted it may be impossible to separate personal identity details from the data they need, and that sorting out the conflicting interests in privacy and data is an ongoing problem.
3 stars. A nice overview of data technology and both the problems and possibilities it brings, but a bit pedantic in approach.
The Man from Not-Yet, by John Sladek (June)
Epistolary fiction, told through letters. Two friends in 1772 discuss an incident some ten years past, in which they had a visitor who claimed to be from the future. He was questioned by Samuel Johnson, who asked disparaging questions–"You will want to tell me no doubt of carriages that operate without benefit of horses. Of engines that carry men through the air like birds. Of ships without sails."
The visitor is astounded that he has guessed the future so correctly, but Johnson just scoffs, until the man offers to bring him to the future. They visit his time machine; the two enter the device; after a few moments of silence, it glows and explodes, leaving Dr. Johnson in the wreckage but the traveler gone.
The remaining few letters let the readers know what happened, while the men themselves remain unaware.
3 stars. I have little interest in this kind of historical fiction, and there is almost no point to the story: too much exposition with a "gotcha" twist at the end.
Ghost, by Hoke Norris (June)
The protagonist of this story is a somewhat conservative, ambitious man who has a "ghost" that speaks to him constantly, urging wild and rebellious acts. The ghost was the previous inhabitant of his body, and he cannot get rid of it even though he is now in control. He is also dating the boss's wife's sister (instead of the girl he loves). He wants the money and status that comes with the high-class connections but he also wants the comfort and joy he finds with Marie; he is caught between these two issues (with the ghost constantly berating him for his ambition) until Marie turns up pregnant.
They have a fight, he goes for a walk, and everything changes.
4 stars–this one will (heh) haunt me.
Conclusion
Playboy is about on par with most science fiction magazines for quality, and better than some… if you can accept that it has only one to three pieces per issue that are relevant to science fiction fans. Although the stories are okay, with some much better than that, many of the best-written stories have dark themes or unhappy endings or both. It seems the average Playboy reader is not expected to be interested in stories of otherworldly exploration or how technology might solve our problems, but how people with psychic powers or spaceships are just as likely to be miserable as the average person today. It's heavy on pedantic verbosity and all rather depressing.
If you also like the libertarian politics, there is more entertainment per issue, and of course, if your interests include pictures of young women with their shirts off, it has quite a bit to offer.
I got a letter from Ted White the other day. Seems he's no longer assistant editor over at F&SF, which is a shame. Apparently, he was once under consideration for editor at Fantastic (and possibly Amazing) back when Celle Goldsmith (Lalli) left! Boy, would that have been an interesting tenure–certainly more interesting than what we got under Sol Cohen.
Anyway, keep reading, because this isn't the only time Ted's name will come up.
by Ronald Walotsky
The Colonies
Stranger in the House, by Kate Wilhelm
We've been seeing a lot more of Kate Wilhelm, lately, which is generally a good thing. Stranger seems as if it will be a fairly typical, if sinister, haunted house story. A middle-aged couple moves into a house in the country, a surprisingly good deal, to escape the hustle and bustle of the city after the husband suffers a heart attack. Immediately, the wife begins to suffer fainting spells and strange visions. A little research uncovers that, since 1920, the place has seen an inordinate number of deaths and inexplicable illnesses amongst its ocuppants.
Is it a vengeful spook? Radon poisoning? Actually, as we quickly learn, it's an alien in the basement. Not just any alien: this one was sent on a first contact expedition. The hope of its race was that they would get to see that transient moment when a species first makes the jump into space.
The problem is, said aliens are hideous, live in a toxic atmosphere, shed acid, and communicate via a telepathy that is about as conducive to human communication as an icepick in the forehead. How, then, can there be a meeting of the minds?
I love a good "first contact" story, and I appreciate that Wilhelm has created a truly alien being. What keeps this piece from excellence are a couple of factors. For one, it is overlong for what it does. More importantly, much of the story, particularly that told from the alien's point of view, is detached and told in past tense. This lack of immediacy in a story that deals with turbulent emotions puts a muffling gauze over the proceedings. I wonder, in fact, if the whole story might have been improved by only including the human viewpoint.
Three stars.
The Lucky People, by Albert E. Cowdrey
Why stay hitched to three channels on the boob tube when you can watch the cannabalistic mutants that prey on your neighbors from the comfort of your own picture window?
Notable for being the first mention of Star Trek I've seen in print science fiction, it is a cute but frivolous tale.
Three stars.
The Stars Know, by Mose Mallette
A young ad exec, graduate of Dr. Ferthumlunger's 40-week handwriting analysis course, is convinced that his boss, the comely Lorna D., is in love with him. How else to explain "the sex-latent capitals, the rounded n's and m's, the generous o's and a's, and the unmistakably yearning ascenders in late."
Never mind that the note which our hero has examined is an angry exhortation to get his work done on time.
The misunderstanding continues, with Lorna actually becoming infatuated with the exec, but said exec steadfastedly refuses to believe it, analysis of subsequent notes revealing (so he believes) that she isn't interested at all. Of course, he doesn't actually read the contents of the notes. He only looks at the handwriting.
What seems a silly story at first is actually, upon further analysis, an indictment of those who miss the forest for the trees: the mystics, numerologists, saucer enthusiasts, and what have you, who ignore the evidence and invent their own patterns to reinforce their beliefs. It's really quite brilliant satire!
Or…perhaps I'm reading too much meaning into the thing.
Three stars.
by Gahan Wilson
Aperture in the Sky, by Theodore L. Thomas
Thomas' essays are usually not worth the single page they are written on. This time, however, he's hit on a good'n: artificial satellites designed to occult radio sources for better measurement of their distance. It sounds rather brilliant to me.
Four stars.
From a Terran Travel Folder, by Walter H. Kerr
Less successful is this one page program, I think advising aliens on the joy of eating people. I read it a few times and did not find myself enjoying it.
Two stars.
He Kilt It with a Stick, by William F. Nolan
Then we hit the nadir of the issue. The author of Logan's Run offers up a tale of a man who hates cats and does horrible things to them until they get their inevitable, macabre revenge.
Not only is this story cliché in the extreme, but if I never read another account of cruelty to cats, it'll be too soon.
One star. For shame.
Wednesday, Noon, by Ted White
Quality returns with this short piece by Ted White. When the rapture comes, the music may not be heavenly in origin, but it'll be compelling, all the same. This story took a whopping three and a half years to be printed from the date of submission (latter 1964), but I'm glad it finally made it. White has a real knack for living in his characters, conveying their sensory experience and internal monologues with visceral effectiveness. Wilhelm's piece could have used his touch, I think.
It helps that White lives in New York, the setting of the story, and lived through that brutal summer when Martha Reeves' classic first hit the airwaves…
Four stars.
The Locator, by Robert Lory
Gerald Bufus, accountant, is meticulous to the extreme. He also has a hobby: tracking the visitations of flying saucers to ensure he can one day be present at a landing. Sadly, his overwhelming addiction to symmetry compells him to greet the alien ship at the exact center of their predicted arrival site.
The three human crewmembers of the first interstellar flight go mad in hyperspace, and presently, none are left alive aboard the vessel except the one robot steward, who mechanically goes through the motions of serving the dead humans.
The twist at the end is ambiguous: has the robot also gone insane? Or is he actually a fourth crewmember, who has retreated behind a fictional metal shell in his own kind of insanity?
Four stars.
To Hell with the Odds, by Robert L. Fish
I love "deal with the Devil" stories, and this one, about a washed-up golfer who bargains to win this year's Open, is great all the way up to the end…where it flubs the finish. The problem I have is the clumsy phrasing of his final wish (an attempt to get out of the deal, which of course backfires,) given that he had 18 holes to perfect it.
Three stars.
The Predicted Metal, by Isaac Asimov
The Good Doctor continues his series on the discovery of metals, this time recounting the creation of the Periodic Table. It's a fine piece, but I feel as if it was recycled from his 1962 book, The Search for the Elements.
Four stars.
The Veiled Feminists of Atlantis, by Booth Tarkington
The last is a 40-year old piece. Two scholars meet to discuss a legend of Atlantis in which the women not only win equality, but then fight a cataclysmic war with Atlantean men for the right to retain the distinction of their femininity–the veil.
Tarkington wrote the piece to poke a bit of fun at the war between the sexes that was waging in the 20s, whereby women had the temerity not only to demand the vote, but also to engage in male or female fashion and hobbies as they chose, and men were affronted by their cheek.
Interesting as an artifact, I suppose. Three stars.
Summing up
All in all, a decent but not outstanding magazine this month. And now onto something in an entirely different vein…
by Fiona Moore
At the outset of The Magical Mystery Tour, which premiered in black and white on Boxing Day but which was released in colour on 5 January this year, we are promised the “trip of a lifetime,” and, later on, we are assured that everyone is “having a lovely time.” Whether or not this includes the viewer is more open to question.
The Mystery Bus attempting to flee its critics.
The movie has the loose framing premise of Ringo Starr taking his Auntie Jessie on a Mystery Bus tour, in the company of the other Beatles, a few swinging hip types, an assortment of British pensioners who seem a little nonplussed by the proceedings, and The Courier, a Number Two figure who leads the tour assisted by Miss Winters and Alf the Driver. What follows is a series of short musical interludes featuring a selection of numbers from the eponymous album, interspersed with sketches that are a cargo-cult cross between At Last The 1948 Show and The Prisoner, which seem to miss the point of either.
There’s a sketch with a sergeant-major drilling the tour participants; a sort of school games’ day and car race around an airfield or test track (featuring Angelo Muscat, the Butler in The The Prisoner); a whirlwind romance between Auntie Jessie and a character named Buster Bloodvessel; a tent in a middle of a field that turns out to be bigger on the inside than on the outside. But no real sense of what all this is supposed to be saying to the audience.
Yes, but why?
The highlights of the film are definitely the musical interludes. “Flying”, when seen in colour, is actually rather beautiful (which is rather lost in the black and white version). There are also short films for “Blue Jay Way,” featuring George Harrison playing on a chalk-drawing piano, and “Fool on the Hill”, with Paul McCartney standing on, well, a hill. Everything really comes together, though, in “I Am the Walrus”, with the surreal costumes of the performers echoing the imagery of the song, and the Beatles all seem to be enjoying themselves. This is far from true of the other sketches, in which John and, in particular, George seem more than a little surly.
Everyone having a lovely time, apparently.
The film hit its nadir, for me, with a rather disgusting dream sequence of Auntie Jessie being served mountains of sloppy spaghetti by John Lennon in a restaurant, while the bus crew sit around half-naked drinking milk. Similarly peculiar was the decision to have a sequence where the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band perform their song “Death Cab for Cutie” in a strip club complete with stripper, watched by George and John. And the movie more or less ends right there, with that sequence going straight into a 1950s Hollywood-musical-style production of “Your Mother Should Know.”
I’d say this is definitely one for Beatles completists more than anything else.
Two out of Five stars.
KGJ Weekly News is back! Come watch and find our what happened this week
Books seem to be published faster than ever these days, and many are worth a gander. Please enjoy this triple-whammy featuring SEVEN sciencefictional titles…plus a surprise guest at the end!
Shaw recently made a big impact with his Hugo-nominated short story, Light of Other Days, and I've enjoyed everything he's come out with. So it was with great delight that I saw that he'd come out with a full length novel called Nightwalk.
I went in completely blind, and as a result, enjoyed the twists and turns the story took far more than if I'd known what was coming. Thus, I give you fair warning. Avoid the following few paragraphs if you wish to go into the book completely unaware.
by Frank Frazetta
Sam Tallon is an agent of Earth based on the former colony and now staunch adversary world, Emm Luther. In-between are 80,000 portals through null-space. Would that there could be but one, but hyperspace jumping is a blind affair, and the direct route between portals is impossible to compute. Only trial and error has mapped 80,000 matched pairs whose winding, untrackable route bridges the two worlds. Luckily, transfer is virtually instantaneous.
Literally inside Tallon's head is the meandering route to a brand new world. Given the dearth of inhabitable planets, both overcrowded Luther and teeming Earth want this knowledge. Before Tallon can escape with it, he is captured by the Lutheran secret police, tortured most vividly and unpleasantly, and sent for a life sentence to be spent at the Lutheran version of Devil's Island, the Pavillion.
Oh yes–in an escape attempt, the sadistic interrogator whom Tallon fails to kill on his way out zaps his eyes and leaves him quite blind.
Tallon is not overly upset by this development. At this point. he is quite content to spend the rest of his life in dark but not unpleasant captivity…except the wounded interrogator is coming for a visit, and Tallon knows he won't survive the encounter. Luckily, he and a fellow prisoner have managed to create a set of glasses tied into the optic nerve and tuned to nearby glial cells. They will not restore a man's sight…but they will allow him to tune in to the vision of any animal about him. With this newfound advantage, Tallon must make the thousand mile trek back to the spaceport, and then traverse the 80,000 portals to Earth.
Alright–you can read again. Nightwalk is 160 pages long. 60 of the pages, the first 30 and the last 30, are brilliant, nuanced, full of twists and turns, and genuinely exciting. The 100 pages inbetween comprise a well-written but forgettable thriller. I will not go so far as to agree with Buck Coulson, who wrote in the latest Yandro: "pulp standard; described by Damon Knight as "putting his hero in approximately the position of a seventy-year-old paralytic in a plaster cast who is required to do battle with a saber-tooth tiger and there being no place to go from there, kept him in the same predicament throughout the story, only adding an extra fang from time to time." But the assessment is not completely inapt.
Nevertheless, the book kept me reading, and if you can keep momentum through the middle, the whole is worthwhile.
3.5 stars.
ACE double H-34
Another month, another "ACE double". They seem to increasingly becoming my province these days, or perhaps I'm becoming the resident Tubb novel reviewer. Either way, I'm thoroughly amenable to the relationship!
I originally covered this novel when it appeared in the pages of Analog. Long story short: it's a history lesson disguised as an SF story–Reynolds doesn't even bother to color his nations, which retain their stock names of Alphaland and Betastan, as if this were an Avalon Hill wargame or something.
Not one of his better efforts, and it doesn't even have the benefit of Freas' nice art. A low three stars.
Three centuries from now, England is still recovering from "the Debacle", an atomic paroxysm that all but destroyed the world in the 1980s. Society has calcified into an oligarchic, capitalist nightmare, with a few rich entities ultimately controlling everything: the loan sharks, the power generators, and the hypnotists. In many ways, it is the last group that is the most powerful, for a generation after the Debacle, they fostered a pervasive belief in reincarnation. With their guidance (or perhaps suggestion), all (save the rare odd "cripple") persons can Breakthrough to their past lives). So universal is this belief in multiple lives that many have become "retrophiles", living out their lives in the guise of a former existence, even to living in towns constructed along archaic lines.
Into this world are thrust three bonafide time travelers, put in stasis in the 1970s to await a cure for their radiation-caused illnesses. Not only are they exiles in an age not theirs, but they have also amassed a tremendous debt in their centuries asleep. Brad Stevens, an atomic physicist born in 1927, is determined to free himself and his 20th Century comrades from the fetters of financial obligation. Thus ensues a rip-roaring trip through an anti-utopian Britain, filled with narrow escapes, exotic scenery, and a few interesting, philosophical observations.
Tubb has already impressed me this year with his vivid The Winds of Gath, and he does so again with this adventure. Indeed, Tubb is such the master of the serial cliff-hanger that I found myself quite unable to put the book down, reading it in two marathon sessions. Of particular note are his observations on faith, on the seductiveness of nostalgia, and on the pernicious nature of laissez-faire capitalism, which inevitably degenerates into anything but a free market.
What keeps this story from a fifth star is precisely what garners it a fourth: it is quick, excellent reading, but it doesn't pause long enough to fully explore all of its intriguing points. Thus, it remains like Ted White's Jewels of Elsewhen–beautifully turned, but somewhat disposable.
Still, I'm not sorry I read it, and neither will you be. Four stars.
by Victoria Silverwolf
From the L File
Two new science fiction novels with titles that begin with the twelfth letter of the alphabet fell into my hands recently. Other than that trivial coincidence, they could hardly be more different. Let's look lingeringly, lest literature lie listlessly languid.
The first thing you'll notice when you open the book is a map. With that, and the title, I wonder if the author and/or the publisher is alluding to J. R. R. Tolkien's fantasy trilogy The Lord of the Rings, which has recently become quite popular here in the USA. That series has a map too.
Map by Jack Gaughan
Given the size of a paperback, it's darn hard to see everything on the map, which has a lot of detail. Fortunately, it's not really necessary. I'll point out a few landmarks as we go along.
A Public Works Project
We start in the middle of the map. At first, you might think the novel takes place in the past, with horse-drawn vehicles and such. We soon find out that it's thousands of years in the future. Our own technological society is nearly mythical, lost in the mists of time. There are bits and pieces of it here and there, left in ruins.
It seems that humanity lost its spirit long ago. Civilization has stagnated. A military officer has a plan to deal with that, and he explains it to a government official.
Take a look at the extreme southwest corner of the map, right next to the compass. That's a place where gigantic remnants of the glory days of yesteryear lie wasting away. The officer's scheme is to build a huge starship from what's left and carry its passengers to a new, better world.
If that sounds crazy to you, you're on the right track. There is no real intent to complete the project. Instead, it's just a trick to get the population excited about something, and working together for centuries. Think pyramids and cathedrals.
The first step is to launch a series of bloody wars, so the folks in the middle of the map can make their way to the coast, conquering and slaughtering along the way. Make no mistake; there are a lot of gruesome battle scenes in this book.
Many years later, society is divided into a small number of elites, who know the truth about the phony starship, and the ordinary people, who do not. The latter come to almost worship it. Under the leadership of a charismatic figure, they revolt against their rulers.
We're still not done with bloodshed. Without going into details, suffice to say that the naval fleets of the islands off the eastern coast (look at the map) get involved. This leads to a conflict that makes everything else that happens in the book look like minor skirmishes. Then we get a wild twist ending that really pulls the rug out from under you, making you rethink everything you thought you knew about what's going on.
This is a strange book. There are no real protagonists. The plot takes place over a couple of centuries or so, and characters come and go very quickly. This accelerates in the latter part of the novel. Some chapters consist of only one sentence, and read like excerpts from a history book. (The author is a history major, still in college.)
It's also a dark and cynical book. From the deception that starts the story to the completely unexpected revelation that ends it, it's full of sinister plots, secretive government agencies, and human lives sacrificed for the schemes of others.
A sense of despair and resignation to fate fills the novel. The commander of the naval fleet I mentioned above knows that building up his ships for the upcoming war will take eighty years, and also knows that wholesale destruction will be the outcome of the conflict, but accepts the situation as inevitable.
It's an intriguing work, but one that's very hard to love.
There's no map in this book, but it does have what must be the world's longest dedication. See for yourself.
I don't recognize everything on that massive list — The Ears of Johnny Bear? — but I am familiar with much of it. What do those things have in common? Unless I am mistaken, none of them are very recent. Keep that in mind.
Next we get the book's basic premise.
I get the message. It's that darn Youth Culture everybody is talking about. I suppose that's because a lot of post-World War Two babies are in their teens and early twenties now. Mods, hippies, bikers, protestors; they're all young folks, aren't they? The two authors of this novel don't seem too happy about the situation.
Don't Trust Anyone Over Twenty-One
(Apologies to political activist Jack Weinberg for stealing and distorting his famous quote. The original number was thirty.)
Something like a century and a half from now, people are only allowed to live to the age of twenty-one. We get an explanation late in the book as to how this happened, but never mind about that. Most folks go along with this, but some try to escape. These rebels are called — you guessed it — Runners.
There's a special police force that kills Runners. They're known as Sandmen. Our hero, Logan 3, is a Sandman near the end of his assigned lifetime. He gets a gizmo from a dying Runner that is supposed to lead the person who holds it to the fabled refuge known as Sanctuary. Determined to find and destroy the place, he pretends to be a Runner himself. The dead man's sister, Jessica 6, is also a Runner. You won't be surprised to find out she's the love interest, too.
Most of the book consists of the pair's wild adventures all over the world as they try to find Sanctuary. Feral children in a decaying part of a city; an inescapable prison at the North Pole; rebellious young folks who ride around on what seem to be flying motorcycles; robots recreating a Civil War battle; and much, much more. The plot moves at an insane pace, and you probably won't believe a minute of it.
Meanwhile, a Sandman named Francis 7 tracks down the two. He's kind of like Inspector Javert from Victor Hugo's novel Les Miserables or Lieutenant Gerard from the TV series The Fugitive. Cold-blooded and relentless, he never gives up. He's also got a secret of his own, leading to a surprise ending.
I get the feeling that the co-authors threw wild twists and turns at each other, shouting Top This! as they tossed pages of the manuscript back and forth at each other. It's a wild ride indeed. As I've indicated, it's got a lot of implausible aspects. The one that really stood out for me was when Logan and Jessica instantly — and I mean instantly — fall in love when they pose nude for a ice sculpture carved by a half-man/half-robot. (Long story.)
If you like lightning-paced action/adventure novels with a touch of satire, you'll get some fun out of this one. Just don't expect serious speculation about where the younger generation is taking us older folks.
Three stars.
by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall
Not Quite What We Were Tolkien About!
Whilst it has been delayed by the legal shenanigans around the paperback edition of The Lord of The Rings, we are going to be getting the next installment in Tolkien’s Middle Earth series, The Silmarillion, very soon. Cylde S. Kilby was helping Professor Tolkien over the summer and gives some details in a recent edition of The Tolkien Journal, including that this is going to borrow a lot from Norse Myths around the creation of Midgard. Sounds like an epic and complex work for sure.
However, in the meantime, we have a new tale from him, not related to Middle Earth. In some ways, it is a more traditional fairy story, but with many fascinating elements that make it well worth your while.
Every twenty-four years, in the village of Wootton Major, there is held the feast of Twenty-Four where a great cake is made by the Master Cook and shared with Twenty-Four children. The current Master is not particularly skilled in his job and often relies on his apprentice. However, he ignores it when the apprentice tells him not to add the Faery Star to the cake, which ends being eaten by young Smith.
On Smith’s tenth birthday, the star begins to glow on his forehead, and he has many adventures, including into Faery itself.
One of Pauline Baynes many beautiful illustrations in the book
As you can probably tell, Smith of Wootton Major is not an epic quest narrative filled with battles and doom (as you may expect if you have only read The Lord of The Rings). Instead, this is a more charming and quiet work of his, resembling more closely Leaf by Niggle or The Adventures of Tom Bombadil.
I don’t want you to get the impression from this it is boring or frivolous. If the Middle Earth novels are like your eighth Birthday Party with all your best friends, this is like snuggling up by a roaring fire with a mug of cocoa and a wonderful book. Different but can be equally enjoyable.
As anyone at all familiar with him will tell you, Tolkien is an absolute master of language and can use it multiple ways to create whatever effect is needed. Here he creates an effortless amiability about the whole thing, introducing wit and joy without seeming forced or conceited. The story is just a marvelous experience.
Apparently, this story came from another project, specifically as an introduction for a new version of George MacDonald’s The Golden Key. He wanted to explain about Faery using this as a kind of metaphor; however, this ended up being expanded into a story in its own right, one I am very glad to have.
It seems odd that Dodie Smith’s latest novel The Starlight Barking has flown under the radar.
It is written by a great novelist who is beloved by mainstream literary publications, and whose play Dear Octopus is currently a hit in the West End. It has been praised by luminaries such as Christopher Isherwood. Moreover, it is the sequel to a beloved children’s classic, the movie version of which was the first movie ever to earn more than $100 million in the cinemas.
And yet, it is also a very odd illustrated novel. Though I find much to recommend in the work, I can understand why it seems not to have grabbed the public imagination as much as the work to which it is a sequel, The Hundred and One Dalmatians.
Picking up shortly after the first book, The Starlight Barking finds the protagonist Dalmatians Pongo and Missis living in Suffolk. One night, all living beings other than dogs fall into a deep magical sleep. The dogs also discover that they can fly, communicate across long distances, and operate machines.
Each dog takes on the jobs of their owners. Having been adopted by the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, Cadpig (the runt of the litter from the first book) is therefore now in charge of the country. She summons her family to London to help.
A subsequent scene in which the United Kingdom Cabinet goes to the dogs is a highlight of the book. Followers of British politics will note the well-drawn satire of Secretary of State George Brown depicted as a clumsy but cosmopolitan Boxer, and Minister of Transport Barbara Castle depicted as fussy and officious poodle. (Is the refusal of James Callaghan to devalue the Pound the reason that his dog is shown as being less mathematically inclined than the other dogs?)
Back in Suffolk, Cruella de Vil’s Persian cat — who helped the dogs escape in the first novel — turns out to be unaffected by the sleeping illness as she was named an “honourary dog.” The cat suggests that Cruella must be behind the plague of sleep, and therefore must be killed. But when the dogs find Cruella, she is asleep like the rest of humanity. So they spare her.
An alien, Dog Star Sirius, appears at the top of Nelson’s column in Trafalgar Square. He admits that he is behind the sleep, and that he has come to Earth to save dogs from an impending cataclysmic nuclear war.
Sirius invites all dogs everywhere to join him in the sky, and gives them a day to decide. Pongo is given the final choice. I won’t spoil the ending, but let me be completely up-front here: it doesn’t get less weird.
This is a flawed and chaotic short novel. But it is that chaos of a childhood flight of fancy; unbounded by expectation, and brimming with whimsy. Dodie Smith’s writing alternates between compelling action writing, and something poetic and magical. Her evident affection for dogs in general leads her to make them very lovable characters.
Given that the only animated movie that Disney has released since 101 Dalmatians was a critical and commercial flop (The Sword In The Stone earned just $20M), they may try to film this sequel. If and when they decide to do so, I hope they have the ambition and the audacity to stay true to this novel.
I would wager that if there were a Hugo Award category to celebrate works geared for younger readers, The Starlight Barking would be a strong contender for that shortlist.
The news recently has been dominated by battles between the old-guard conservative and the new liberal voices in the matter of race relations.
In the USA President Johnson has urged passage of a Voting Rights Act at the same time as another Johnson (a judge this time) has agreed to let a civil rights march in Alabama continue, in spite of fierce opposition.
In the UK, Rhodesian ministers have been touring trying to drum up support for their declaration of independence under white minority rule to resolve the stalemate between Ian Smith and Harold Wilson. Given the Rhodesian argument seems to primarily be that they have real experience of governing and the black people of Rhodesia are uncivilized, I don’t think they are going to win too many friends.
At the same time we have continued debates over Commonwealth immigration into the UK. Firstly whether the 1962 Commonwealth Immigrants Act is being circumvented illegally and how widely, secondly if those citizens should be deported and, thirdly, if further controls need to be placed on immigration. I am personally in agreement with the late leader of the opposition, Hugh Gaitskell, who stated that it was cruel and brutal, and as such I am not surprised there are some people trying to get around it.
Then there are the inflammatory statements made by Sir David Renton MP that certain communities do not wish to integrate and that we have too much of our farmland been taken up by urban sprawl. On my personal experience, Indian and Pakistani communities in the UK are doing a much better job of integration into British life than most British people living in India seemed to have done. Whilst most of the increasing land-use over the last ten years seems not to have come from immigration but from those formally in the cities moving out to areas with more space. If they are really worried about this I would contend wider availability of birth control, legalization of abortion and a proper investment into inner city renewal.
A Quiet Town
Closer to home in Bedford, however, we have long had a thriving immigrant population and I have yet to hear any complaint about it. In fact the biggest grumbling locally is the that TV signal continues to be poor and plans for a nearby relay station continue to be delayed.
Thankfully we have many other entertainments around here. We have a number of local picture houses, with The Empire continuing to show a range of excellent films for the SFF enthusiast. On Sunday they are having both Vincent Price and Boris Karloff films I hope to sync my teeth into.
As well as the national charts, we get local charts. I approve of the top 3 going into this weekend (which I definitely contributed to myself).
And, of course, plenty of reading material, including two long awaited pieces. The Fourth issue of Gamma, which is looking backwards, and City of A Thousand Suns, which has an eye on the future.
Gamma: A Long-Expected Magazine
by John Healey
First thing, we have to start with is the cover. Gone now are beautiful space pictures and instead is a lurid cover right out of the pulp era. I have to wonder if this is the influence of the new co-editor, Jack Matcha, who has made a career writing Pulp Sleaze novels for Kozy Books and has the forthcoming novel A Rogue’s Guide to Europe whose content, I have heard, is just what you would expect from the title.
An example of Matcha's work for Kozy
The editorial confirms we are now going straight back to the pulp era. I personally was not yearning for the days:
…when Jayne Mansfield who invariably wore a space suit apparently constructed by a bikini manufacturer and every Bug-Eyed Monster attacked her for reasons known (if at all) only to himself (itself)?
We are definitely a far cry from the literary attempts to include imaginative fiction of all types, and the issue feels much the lesser for it.
H. B. Fyfe was first published in Astounding back in 1940 and was prolific during the 50s although he has been appearing in print less often of late.
Neil Bryson and a dietician named Carole Leland (who acts as his secretary), are sent on a mission by the Galactic Federation to assess a recently admitted planet that has seen a marked population boom that is alarming the other members of the federation. They are to investigate what is being done to get this down. On this planet we meet different groups with different responses to this directive.
One reason why I like to return on occasion to pulpy space adventures is they are fun and easy to read. This, on the other hand, is like reading through treacle with over-description, pointless diversions and regular stating of Bryson’s own thought process.
And yet the actual story within is quite fascinating. At first it seems like it is going to be a colonialist parable about “stupid natives” overpopulating themselves and not accepting the tenants of “superior people”. However it quickly gets messy as the Galactic directive has completely changed the various societies on this planet in unprecedent ways and we are led to wonder if the federation itself was at fault to start with.
So a very interesting piece brought down by poor execution. Three stars.
The Towers of Kagasi, by William P. Miller
William P. Miller is apparently a well-known and respected mystery writer, but I believe this is his first foray into science fiction. In this story, a team of astronauts investigate the titular planet from where a ray was sent to Earth, killing the entire population of four major cities.
At times it felt like what you used to get in Thrilling Wonder Stories, but it lacks any of the enjoyment and is a story that comes across to me as meanspirited, misogynistic and gross.
One star
Food, by Ray Nelson
Our first story by Ray Nelson since he got Four- and Five-star reviews for his pieces at F&SF in 1963 and is apparently now working on a novel with Philip K. Dick. He continues to show here why he is one to watch.
Ben is the last crewman alive on a planet where numerous creatures seem to be trying to kill him. This does not feel like a pulp era story at all, rather like the kinds of atmospheric vignettes we get in New Worlds.
Four stars
Hans Off in Free Pfall to The Moon, by E. A. Poe
This is a significant abridgement of Edgar Allen Poe’s Hans Pfall (about one fifth of the original length) done by cutting out his verbosity and digressions and instead sticking to the core of the tale, one of a man attempting to travel to the moon in a balloon.
Though I am not a fan of the original full-length work and do think Poe will use ten words where one can suffice, it feels like a lot is lost by making such a change. For example a section observing the Earth from above and pondering its appearance becomes a note about checking altitude on a barometer.
One star for a rather pointless exercise.
The Gamma Interview: Forrest J. Ackerman
I am a bit disappointed overall not just by the brevity of this interview but also the shallowness of it. It starts off interestingly, talking about the early history of monster movies but quickly descends into Ackerman bemoaning how terrible they all are. Also I am surprised that no real attention is given to how Hammer and Toho have really revived the monster film in recent years. He claims he watches every monster film that comes out but you would think from his description everything today was like The Creature From The Haunted Sea. You are much better off checking out Fritz Lieber’s editorial in the recent Fantastic instead.
Two stars
Open Season, by John Tanner
John Tanner is not a medical student as claimed but another alias for new co-editor Jack Matcha (and his second story for Gamma). In this tale, Ditmar is travelling to Venus to try to find out what happened to his wife, who disappeared previously on the same route. While there, the ship gets boarded and crew taken to the asteroid Zara, this being the exclusive property of Cyrus Blake, one of the wealthiest men on Earth
The story seems to be trying to be a tense mystery but I was just getting impatient. The twist itself is pretty expected for anyone who has encountered The Most Dangerous Game (and given how widely reprinted, taught, filmed and copied it is, that is probably 90% of the readership) and the whole thing feels like a very tired exercise.
One star
The Woman Astronaut, by Robert Katz
Katz is another new writer to science fiction from outside the field; if this vignette is anything to go by I hope he never comes back!
A comedic (and I use the term very loosely), dramatic telling of the first American Woman in space, this anonymous Mrs. Smith spends her time worrying about her appearance, is confused that communist China isn’t actually red from space and is generally befuddled by the whole experience.
It has been over a year since the first woman went into space on Vostok 6 and these kind of prejudiced attitudes are insulting, disgusting and probably do continued damage to any hope for progress on this front from NASA.
Unfunny, uninteresting and insulting. One star, only because I cannot give anything lower.
Happily Ever After, by William F. Nolan
The former managing editor of Gamma returns to try to raise the magazine out of the doldrums with this little tale. Donald Spencer buys an asteroid to live on with his wife, on the basis that land value increases will mean it is a sound investment in the long term. It turns out not enough was known about the asteroid and they might be destined for a different kind of happily ever after.
Not that strong, but it hums along and is at least a slight improvement on the last few pieces. Two and a half stars
Don’t Touch Me I’m Sensitive, by James Stamers
Huckelberry Waterstone Smith arrives on a heavily populated Earth controlled by various corporations (the zone he is in being the City G.L.C. Services inc.) wanting to be a space warden, but he lacks the mathematical skill and is illiterate. However, he has the unusual ability to leave behind him images of himself wherever he goes.
I have forced myself to read through this story three times now and I have no idea what is meant to be about. It seems to be written as a joke or satire but I am not convinced it really works as being about anything. Add to that the terrible prose style and it only gets one star from me.
The Hand of Dr. Insidious, by Ron Goulart
With Dr. Fu Manchu set to be brought back to life in the cinema later this year, it seems appropriate that Goulart, a skilled writer of silly satires, would do his take on the famous villain. In this version Dr. Insidious is attempting to create a talent agency and take control of Hollywood. When the 00 agents have been killed in their attempts to stop him it is up to crack spy Ian Naismith and Hollywood’s top plastic surgeon Dr. Maxwell Phoebus Jr. to take him down.
A fun and silly piece as you would expect from Goulart but it doesn’t really get at or examine the myriad problems with the Fu Manchu stories. In fact reads more as another silly version of the Spy-Fi genre.
Two Stars and a recommendation to instead check out the Goon Show stories of Fred Fu-Manchu.
A Messy Melee
Overall, a really disappointing turn for the once great magazine. My subscription is paid up until issue 7 and with the new bi-monthly schedule (assuming this one actually sticks) I should be reading up until September. However, if this is the new direction I certainly will not be renewing.
Thankfully, the other work is a significant improvement:
And so we now come to the conclusion of Delany’s Toron trilogy, which (at least for myself) has been the most anticipated book for a decade. The first two books showed that Delany was a writer of immense skill and did an amazing job of setting up this fantastical future and the stakes of the conflict. Now he has a full length novel, rather than half of an Ace Double, to conclude this tale.
This book jumps between two main focuses. Firstly, we have agents from numerous different species in the city of the Triple Entity. Here we learn of the war with The Lord of The Flames and the previous efforts to combat him. The Lord of Flames cannot experience concepts like war or compassion as those in our universe can so he has been trying to understand them first hand. The final result of the war will depend on which side has ownership of three manuscripts of the most sensitive minds of Earth and it is up to the Triple Entity’s agents, without outside aid, to bring them.
Back on Earth, the focus is on Jon and Alter. Now back in Toron (the centre of the Toromon empire), they have discovered mysterious words scrawled on walls everywhere. Following this trail leads them to the final resolution to the many conflicts we have seen throughout the series.
This is one that I think is going to get sharp reactions from the science fiction community, this is probably the toughest novel in an incredibly experimental series. It is a philosophical work touching on religion, communication, the morality of war, class conflict, racism and free will. Through it all we have a wide range of characters and concepts across a massive scope.
To start with the positive, there is absolutely no faulting Delany’s imagination and ambition. What would take entire novellas for another writer constitute a passing reference for him. To take one example:
…one of the attendants was an attractive woman with wide hazel eyes. But a minute examination would have shown her slim almond-nailed fingers, her cream and honey skin to be a bizarre cosmic coincidence. Internal examination and genetic analysis would prove her a bisexual species of moss.
This character never becomes important to the narrative and this description could be entirely exorcised without any confusion. Yet what it does do is display the multiplicity of life in this universe and the vast difference in beings we will be encountering.
Also, in spite of how complex the story he is trying to tell is he handles the action beats and flow incredibly well. It is easy to get lost in the world Delany has created, the tribulation of the characters and feel the tension grow as the remaining pages count down.
Yet, as with the previous books, keeping all the characters and situations in my head can be a real struggle. I don’t think this is a personal thing; I like Tolkien and Tolstoy and find their enormous casts just fine to understand. What I think is the major issue with these books is that Delany is attempting to paint on such an enormous scale with an incredibly finite canvas. There is no reason these books could not be expanded to the length of The Lord of The Rings without the need for significant plot alterations.
That is not to say it is not a great work that shows a talent that seems destined to become one of the most important in the field. But I do wonder if this kind of writing might not be better off trying a mainstream publisher or a long magazine serialization than the slim paperbacks Ace produces.
Rating: Four and a half stars
By the way, Galactic Journey will be doing a special presentation of our "Come Time Travel with Me" panel, the one we normally do at conventions, on March 27 at 6PM PDT. Come register to join us! It's free and fun…and you might win a prize!
There's a change brewing, slowly but surely. If you've been anywhere near a radio, TV set, or newspaper, you know that the spark lit by the Supreme Court in Brown vs. Board of Education has kindled into a fire, a burning energy to make Black people in America "Free at Last." We've seen it in countless marches, integrating schools, the new civil rights legislation slowly working its way through Congress, and (sadly) the deplorable counterattacks by reactionary white supremacists.
The battleground also exists on television. Black people have been few and far between on the little screen: Jack Benny's assistant, Rochester; the dispatcher on Car 54 Where are You?; Ethel Waters playing a dying blues star on Route 66 (and not a dry eye in that house); non-speaking Marines on the set of The Lieutenant.
Last week marked a refreshing change in the right direction. First, there was an episode of East Side/West Side, a dramatic look at social workers in New York City. A Black actor was cast in the role of a psychiatrist, diagnosing the outlook for a mentally impaired individual. It was a breakthrough for me because it was the first time I saw a Black man cast as the erudite smart one of an ensemble cast. Moreover, I believe I've seen this character before, which would make him semi-recurring.
This week's episode of East Side/West Side did not feature the psychiatrist, but (even better) focused on a Black family and the hardships they endured after they lost their young child. It starred James Earl Jones, whom I know from his stage work, as well as several other actors and actress with whom I was not familiar, but who all turned in excellent performances.
Last week, there was an episode of The Great Adventure, an educational series spotlighting important moments in American history, depicting the story of Harriet Tubman, who helped thousands of slaves to freedom through the Underground Railroad in the 19th Century.
And this week, actor/playwright Ossie Davis appeared on the game show, To Tell the Truth!
It's happening, little by little, in all walks of life. There is light at the end of this tunnel.
And speaking of welcome surprises, I'm happy to present the second issue of the science fiction quarterly, Gamma. After last month's dreadful line of mags, it was such a relief to have reading material I could look forward to.
Gamma styles itself as a kind of F&SF plus, getting the best stories with the highest literary merit. So far, they're doing great. Gamma 2 is, despite the gorgeous cover by Dollens, really more of a fantasy/horror mag, as befits its publication date, occurring as it did just before Halloween and Dia de los Muertes. So light the hearth, put a kettle on, and prepare to enjoy a fiendishly pleasant experience:
The Granny Woman, by Dorothy B. Hughes
Novelist Hughes offers up an evocative tale of the Ozarks in which a professor from the city investigates the recent death of The Granny Woman, widely rumored to be a witch. Was it natural causes, or did the village-folk hex the reputed hexer? Not sf, not even really fantasy, but a lovely tale just the same, and suitably spooky for the holidays. Four stars.
The Old College Try , by Robert Bloch
An over-eager colonial administrator is dispatched to an alien world to oversee the native mine workers, ignoring the advice from his laid-back predecessor that it is often better to get along than steam headlong into the winds of tradition.
It's a competently written, Sheckley-esque satire with a joke ending you'll see a mile away. Bloch, the author of Psycho, is one of the more effective horror writers out there, but he didn't strain his talents making this piece. Three stars.
Michael, by Francesca Marques
Every five year old dreams of going on an adventure, but are the aliens calling Michael real or a sign of his mental instability? Told from the point of view of his older sister, this is a beautiful vignette with an excellent sting in its tail. Well done, Francesca, especially for a first tale! Four stars.
Robert Carter, 34, accountant and father, lives a perfectly normal life until the morning he simultaneously bumps his head and cuts his throat — exposing the wires and oil that betray his robotic origin. Has Carter gone mad or is he on his way to discovering the truth of the world?
It's not a bad piece, but like Bloch, Matheson (possibly the finest sff screenplay writer in the business) did not devote much effort this passable but forgettable work. Three stars.
The Kid Learns, by William Faulkner
Where Gamma 1 featured an early genre piece by Tennessee Williams, this time around, it's William Faulkner's turn. The Kid Learns dates back to 1925 and involves a young crimelord aspirant who tangles with a rival and ends up on a date with death. Good, not great, but I did appreciate that I had to read twice to understand what had happened. Three stars.
King's Jester, by Jack Matcha
An overagitated corporate executive hires a Court Jester to lighten the mood, but the contract only serves to facilitate a complete breakdown — of the president and the company. A overly heavy piece that thuds to an ending, I wasn't particularly impressed. Two stars.
Here's Sport Indeed! by William Shakespeare and Ib Melchior
Ib Melchior, son of opera star Lauritz Melchior, has combed the works of The Bard to assemble the damnedest tale of planetary exploration you ever read. An utterly insane exercise, and one that tickled me in all the right places. Five stars.
Portfolio by Burt Shonberg
Here's something nifty: The fellow behind the weird paintings in the film, The House of Usher, has provided several new weird compositions just for this issue. Worth a look. 5 stars.
The Undiscovered Country, by William F. Temple
History is filled with episodes wherein rapacious foreigners kidnap the local princess. In this case, her highness is a telekinetic from Pluto, and Earthers are the bad guys. A well-told story marred by the utterly human form of the aliens despite their wildly differing climate, as well as the moral implications: we should be rooting for the girl, but the story is written sympathetically to the terrans. Three stars.
The Gamma Interview: Robert Sheckley
You better believe I turned to this piece first, and I was not disappointed. Bob, now situated in Italy and sustaining a shamefully low output to our genre, discusses his views on science fiction and his role in it. Five stars of goodness from one of the field's greats.
Castaway, by Charles E. Fritch
Gamma's editor once again takes up the quill for his own publication, much to the benefit of the issue. His story about a shipwrecked Earther, whose planetary imprisonment outlasts the endurance of his physical body, is just beautiful. Five stars.
Something in the Earth, by Charles Beaumont
As with the last issue, both of Twilight Zone's most featured guest writers make an appearance here (Matheson is the other one). Sadly, Beaumont's tale of Earth's last patch of forest and the fellow who appoints himself its defender is overly sentimental and not particularly insightful. Two stars.
I'm Only Lonesome When I'm Lonely, by William F. Nolan
For some people, drifting from cocktail party to cocktail party, living on scotch and the company of others, is a way of life. But as Nolan's story demonstrates, it's always possible to have too much of a good thing. An impressively dialogue-reliant piece. Four stars.
artwork by Luan Meatheringham
Sombra y Sol, by Ray Bradbury
Sadly, the mag ends with the softest of whimpers as everyone's (but mine) favorite "sf" author presents a sort of prose poem, likening the death of little Raimundo during the Day of the Dead to the bull's inevitable end in the arena. Dry, affected, and just plain bad. One star.
Well, I hate to end on a sour note. The fact is, this issue is well worth the 50 cent price, rough patches aside. Get yourself a copy while you can.
Based on the quality of this and the last issue, I'd get a subscription, too. And perhaps you can catch reruns of The Great Adventure and East Side/West Side next summer. That would make your 1964 quite bright, indeed!
The history of our genre, like that of all things, contains several ups and downs. From its beginnings in the pulp explosion, to its near-extinction during the second world war, to the resurgence during the digest age starting in the late '40s, and finally, to its decline at the end of the last decade. At its most recent nadir, the number of science fiction periodicals had dropped to six from a high of forty. Many predicted the imminent death of the genre, and not without justification.
1963 may well be remembered as the year things turned around. In February, Worlds of Tomorrow was introduced as a sibling to sister magazines, Galaxy and IF. To all accounts, it is a successful venture. And last month, another digest joined the throng.
Back in 1949, the digest boom was kicked off by the birth of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. It was, in many ways, a repudiation of the pulp genre, or perhaps a sign of its maturation. F&SF set its literary standards bar very high, filling its pages with some of the most articulate works and authors our field has seen (and, with some hiccoughs, continues that tradition to this day). For fourteen years, it stood unique in SFF. This is not to say that other magazines did not approach or even surpass it in quality, but the combination of breadth of subject matter and eloquence of presentation made it a creature unto itself.
Until now.
The newest SFF mag is called Gamma, and here's how its editor, Charles E. Fritch, introduces it:
The Dictionary defines GAMMA for us: "…to designate some bright star." One look at our cover and at the stunning lineup of stellar names for our next issue will confirm that definition. Indeed, GAMMA is the bright new star of the science fiction/fantasy field, and we intend to see that it continues to light up the heavens. The dictionary goes on to mention the gamma function — and we'll assure you that the GAMMA function, in our case, is to give our readers the best fiction, by the finest talents in and out of the sf field — fiction of yesterday, today, and tomorrow. GAMMA will unearth classic fantasy from obscure, out-of-print markets, while creating its own classics and memorable stories in each issue.
Ambitious, to be sure. For those of us who remember the arrival of F&SF, we cannot help note the similarities of the two magazines. The style and composition of the sole piece of art (and the fact there is just one throughout the whole book) is highly reminiscent of the older digest. Inside, too, there are sixteen pieces, none longer than twenty pages. The majority of the listed authors have had work published in F&SF, too.
Just as F&SF has "theme" issues, this "FIRST BIG ISSUE" of Gamma has a clear The Twilight Zone angle. All five of the anthology show's main authors have a piece in the mag, and Rod Serling gets top (or, I suppose it can be argued, bottom) billing.
But does this F&SF doppleganger live up to the standards of its predecessors? You'll have to read it and find out (hint: You won't be disappointed):
Mourning Song, by Charles Beaumont
Beaumont is one of the "Zone's" most prolific guest writers, and his pieces are generally marked with authorial expertise. He is, in many ways, what Bradbury should be: Emotional without being mawkish; literate without self-indulgence. Mourning Song, about a sightless old bard who claims to know when death is coming, and the young man who dares to disbelieve, is one of the most poignant things I've seen Beaumont produce. Five stars.
Crimes Against Passion, by Fritz Leiber
The damned in hell get a chance to re-plead their cases, with the help of a psychiatric public defender and the burgeoning field of Analysis. It's meant to be a funny piece, but largely fails at comedy (save for one genuinely funny line, when Macbeth shouts irritably at his former adversary, "Lay off, MacDuff!") Lieber's been hit or miss lately, and this is a definite miss. Two stars.
A reprint from the July 1953 Fantastic Universe, this tale of young time travelers from an antiseptic future, and the girl who decides to stay in 1928, is played for every sentimental note. Brush your teeth afterwards. Three stars.
The Vengeance of Nitocris, by Tennessee Williams
Now here's an interesting one, the very first sale of arguably the world's greatest living playwright. This tale of a vengeful Egyptian Empress of the Old Kingdom first appeared in the August 1928 Weird Tales. It's nothing if not lurid, and the story it tells is a true one (or, at least, attested back to ancient times — I checked the sources cited). Three stars.
Itself, by A. E. van Vogt
A robotic anti-sub is the star in Van Vogt's aquatic answer to Laumer's sentient tank story, Combat Unit. Just not as good. Two stars.
Venus Plus Three, by Charles E. Fritch
A disenchanted wife brings his husband to savage Venus so that man-eating plants can preclude the need for a messy divorce. An outdated, pulpish tale, but still entertaining. Three stars.
A Message from Morj, by Ray Russell
The pulsing from the distant world could be none other than a communication — but just what was it trying to say? This vignette manages to be, by turns, both surprising and predictable. Three stars.
To Serve the Ship, by William F. Nolan
When your occupation has been to be sole pilot of a starship for eight decades, it can be pretty hard to adapt to retirement. Author Nolan takes on a subject that both James White (Fast Trip) and Anne McCaffrey (The Ship Who Sang) have handled better. Three stars.
(And now, you may be thinking, "With the exception of the Beaumont, this doesn't sound like a great magazine." Fear not. It's all gravy from here.)
Gamma Interview: Rod Serling, by Rod Serling
Any conversation with one of television's brightest lights is bound to be an engaging one. The Twilight Zone's creator does not disappoint. Five stars.
The Freeway, by George Clayton Johnson
Johnson is another Zone regular, and in this tale of the breakdown of an automatic car in the middle of the desert, he highlights the danger of over-reliance on technology. Could you survive? Not just the physical peril, but the knowledge of just how ill-equipped we are to deal with nature undiluted? A solid three stars.
One Night Stand, by Herbert A. Simmons
Horn-blowing misfit finds his groove and love in a gig on the Red Planet. The first SFF story I've read by a Black man (that I know of), it's a satisfyingly hep read. Three stars.
As Holy and Enchanted, by Kris Neville
I first fell in love with a fictional character when I was ten. It was Polychrome, the fairy daughter of the rainbow who first fell to Earth in The Road to Oz, and I wrote several childish tales that detailed our meeting and (innocent) courtship. This reprint from the April 1953 Avon Science Fiction and Fantasy Reader covers similar ground, but far more beautifully than I ever could have managed. Four stars.
Shade of Day, by John Tomerlin
A sick salesman whose life zagged when it should have zigged revisits the last happy time of his life, touring the Junior High of his early teens. Heavy, subtle, effective. Four stars.
The Girl Who Wasn't There, by Forrest J. Ackerman
If you don't yet know 4E, that legendary SFF fan who helms magazines, anchors conventions, and keeps old magazines in his refrigerator for want of space elsewhere, this tale of a lonely, invisible girl is a good introduction. Four stars.
Death in Mexico, by Ray Bradbury
I spend much of my time praising Bradbury with faint damns, but this poem is a genuinely worthy piece. Four stars.
Crescendo, by Richard Matheson
It's never a bad idea to wrap up a magazine with Matheson, possibly the best SFF screenwriter of our age. Who else could make an electric church organ so plausibly menacing? Four stars.
Viewed with the dispassionate eye of a statistics collector, GAMMA garners a strong, but not noteworthy, score of 3.4 stars. Taken as a whole, however, this is a stunning first issue. For those who like F&SF and wish there were more magazines like it, your prayers have been answered. Here's looking forward to GAMMA 2, coming out in the fall.
Science fiction has risen from its much maligned, pulpish roots to general recognition and even acclaim. Names like Heinlein, MacLean, Anderson, Asimov, and St. Clair are now commonly known. They are the vanguard of the several hundred men and women actively writing in our genre.
One name that comes up again and again on the lips of the non-SF fan, when you query them about the SF they have read, is Ray Bradbury. Thoroughly raised in and part of the "Golden Age" of science fiction, he has remained as he always was — a writer of fantastic tales. And yet, he's popular with the masses, and the reputation of our genre is greater for it. Thus, it's no surprise that Bradbury was chosen to have this month's F&SF devoted to him.
That said, I don't like Bradbury. Or, at least, I don't like what he writes.
Maybe it's because he insists that he doesn't write science fiction, which is true. His stuff has the trappings of SF, but it follows none of the rules of science. That kind of scientific laziness always bugs me. The only person I feel who can get away with enjoying the benefits of our genre while dislaiming association is Harlan Ellison, whose writing really is that good.
Or maybe it's because, as Kingsley Amis put it (and as William F. Nolan quotes in his mini-biography included in this issue), Bradbury writes with "that particular kind of sub-whimsical, would-be poetical badness that goes straight to the heart of the Sunday reviewer." I've never read a Bradbury story that I didn't think could have been better rendered by, say, Ted Sturgeon.
Or maybe it's just sour grapes. After all, Bradbury is two years younger than me and much more famous. Heck, I've barely gotten to the point of accomplishment he was at twenty-three years ago! On the other hand, I don't feel that resentment for, say, Asimov (another lettered colleague of similar age).
Anyway, I suspected an issue about Bradbury would be a bad one, and in fact, it's not a great one. Still, there is stuff worth reading. And if you're a fan of Ray's, well, this will be a treat:
Bradbury: Prose Poet in the Age of Space, William F. Nolan
Bradbury's Boswell is a minor SF writer, fairly recent to the scene. Nolan became pals with Ray in his fandom days in the early '50s, and he is sufficiently versed with Bradbury's career to write a perfectly fine biography. Worth reading. Four stars.
F&SF editor Davidson has apparently persuaded Ray to part with a couple of pieces of "desk fiction" — stuff that didn't sell, but which now has value since the author is famous. Phoenix is the original version of The Fireman, set at the beginning of the government campaign to burn seditious (i.e. all) books. The Grand Censor's efforts are thwarted by the grassroots project whereby library patrons take it upon themselves to memorize the contents of the books, thus preserving the knowledge.
It's a mawkish, overdone story, but at the same time, it accomplishes in less than ten pages what it took Bradbury more than a hundred to do in his later book. Had I not known of The Fireman, and had I read this in 1948 (when it was originally written), I might well have given it four stars. As it is, it's redundant and a bit smug. Three stars.
To the Chicago Abyss, Ray Bradbury
This longer piece is a variation on the same theme. An old man, one of the few who remembers a pre-apocalyptic past, continually runs afoul of the authorities by recounting fond memories to those who would vicariously remember a better yesterday. It's another story that pretends to mean more than it says, but doesn't. Three stars.
An Index to Works of Ray Bradbury, William F. Nolan
As it says on the tin — an impressive litany of Bradbury's 200+ works of fiction. Look on his works, ye Mighty, and despair.
Mrs. Pigafetta Swims Well, Reginald Bretnor
From the writers of the increasingly desperate Ferdinand Feghoot puns comes an amusing tale of an opera-singer bewitched by a jealous Mediterranean mermaid. Told in a charming Italian accent, it is an inoffensive trifle. Three stars.
Newton Said, Jack Thomas Leahy
New authors are the vigor and the bane of our genre. We need them to carry on the legacy and to keep things fresh. At the same time, one never knows if they'll be any good, and first stories are often the worst stories (with the notable exception of Daniel Keyes' superlative Flowers for Algernon).
So it is with Jack Thomas Leahy's meandering piece, built on affected whimsy and not much else, of the face-off between a doddering transmogrifying elf and his alchemically inclined son. One star.
Underfollow, John Jakes
This one's even worse. A citizen of Earth, for a century under the thumb of alien conquerors, decides he's tired of the bad portrayal of humans on alien-produced television shows. He tries to do something about it. His attempts backfire. I read it twice, and I still don't get it. I didn't enjoy it either time. One star.
Atomic Reaction, Ron Webb
Deserves a razzberry as long as the poem. Two seconds should suffice. One star.
British author Ballard has a thing for the sea (viz. his recent, highly acclaimed The Drowned World). This particular story starts out well, with a man, every night, dreaming of an ever-encroaching sea that threatens to engulf his inland town. It's atmospheric and genuinely engaging, but the pay-off is disappointing. Colour in search of a plot. Three stars.
Watch the Bug-Eyed Monster, Don White
Don White has a taste for the satirical. Here, he takes on stories that start like, "Zlat was the best novaship pilot in the 81 galaxies," by starting his story with, "Zlat was the best novaship pilot in the 81 galaxies." The problem is, a satire needs to say something new, not just repeat the same badness. One star.
Now things are getting better. In Ancient Greece, the age-old rivalry between humans and centaurs has reached an unsustainable point, and an innovative solution is required. A beautifully written metaphor for the conflict between the civilized and the pastoral whose only flaw is a gimmicky ending. Four stars.
Just Mooning Around, Isaac Asimov
The Good Doctor presents a most interesting piece on the tug of war over moons between the sun and its planets. The conclusion, in which the status of our "moon" is discussed, is an astonishing one. Five stars.
No Trading Voyage, Doris Pitkin Buck
A lovely piece on the troubled trampings of a dispossed starfaring race called humanity. Four stars.
Niña Sol, Felix Marti-Ibanez
The Brazilian author who so impressed me a few months back has returned with an even better tale. Writing in that poetic, slightly foreign style that one only gets from a perfectly fluent non-native speaker, Mr. Ibanez presents us a love story set in Peru between an artist and a Sun Elemental. Beautiful stuff. Maybe Bradbury should go to Rio for a few years. Four stars verging on five.
If you're a Bradbury fan, then the emotional and fantastic character of this month's issue will greatly appeal to you. And even if you're not, there's enough good stuff at the ends to justify the expenditure of 40 cents.
I never thought the time would come that reading The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction would be the most dreaded portion of my duties…and yet, here we are. Two issues into new Editor Avram Davidson's tenure, it appears that the mag's transformation from a great bastion of literary (if slightly stuffy) scientifiction is nearly complete. The title of the digest might well be The Magazine of Droll Trifles (with wry parenthetical asides).
One or two of these in an issue, if well done, can be fine. But when 70% of the content is story after story with no science and, at best, stream-of-consciousness whimsy, it's a slog. And while one could argue that last issue's line-up comprised works picked by the prior editor, it's clear that this month's selections were mostly Davidson's.
Moreover, Robert Mills (the outgone "Kindly Editor") used to write excellent prefaces to his works, the only ones I would regularly read amongst all the digests. Davidson's are rambling and purple, though I do appreciate the biographical details on Burger and Aandahl this ish.
I dunno. Perhaps you'll consider my judgment premature and unfair. I certainly hope things get better…
This is Carr's first work, and one for which Davidson takes all the credit (blame) for publishing. It sells itself as a "Deal with Diablo" story with a twist, but the let-down is that, in the end, there is no twist. Two stars.
A vivid, if turgid, depiction of the wretched refuse that hawk wares on the hot streets of New York. I'm not sure what the point is, and I expect better of Blish (and F&SF). Two stars.
This tale, about a vicious old prune who has a change of heart in his last days, would not be out of place in an episode of Thriller or perhaps in the pages of the long-defunct Unknown. In other words, nothing novel in concept. Yet, and perhaps this is simply due to its juxtaposition to the surrounding dreck, I felt that it was extremely well done. Five stars.
From zeniths to nadirs, this piece is just nonsense piled upon nonsense. It's the sort of thing I'd expect from a 13-year old…and mine (the Young Traveler) has consistently delivered better. One star.
Can a psionic kippah really tune you in to the minds of great figures of the past? Dickson rarely turns in a bad piece, and this one isn't horrible, but it takes obvious pains to be oblique so as to draw out the "gotcha" ending as far as possible. Three stars, barely.
Noselrubb, about an interstellar reconnaissance of Earth, is one of those kookie pieces with aliens standing in for people. Neophyte Frazee might as well throw in the quill. One star.
Again, I am feeling overcharitable. It just so happens that I plan to write an essay on Uranus as part of my movie that took place on the seventh planet. Asimov's piece, about the internal make-up of the giant planets, is thus incredibly timely. It's also good. Five stars (even though the Good Doctor may have snitched his title from me…).
F&SF's Czech contributor is back with another interesting peek behind the Iron Curtain. Brain involves the creation of an artificial intelligence to solve the physical problems beyond the reach of the greatest human minds. The moral – that it's okay to stop and smell the flowers – is a reaction, perhaps, to the Soviet overwhelming emphasis on science in their culture. We laud it, but perhaps they find it stifling. Three stars.
The unkindly Editor lards out his issue with a vignette featuring a protagonist from the Five Roses, complete with authentic idiom, and his run-in with a soothsayer who might have a line on the ponies. It's as good as anything Davidson has come up with recently. Two stars.
Through many commas and words of purplish hue, one can dimly discern a story of an offspring of some magical union. Mrs. Burger reportedly transcribes her dreams and submits them as stories. The wonder is that they get accepted and published. Two stars.
If Bob Sheckley had written this story, about an abducted princess and the android entertainer for whom she is a dead ringer, it probably would have been pretty decent. Goulart makes a hash of it. Two stars.
Young Vance Aandahl made a big splash a couple of years ago and has turned in little of note since. His latest, a post-apocalyptic tale of love, savagery, and religion, draws on many other sources. They are less than expertly translated, but the result is not without some interest. Three stars.
***
Generously evaluated, this issue garners 2.7 stars. However, much of that is due to the standout pieces (which I suspect you will not feel as strongly about) and to a bit of scale-weighting for the three stars stories…that are only just.
(by the way, is it just me, or does the cover girl bear a striking resemblance to the artist's spouse, Ms. Carol Emshwiller?)
![[July 2, 1969] Merging streams (August 1969 <i>Venture</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/Venture-1969-08-Cover.jpg?resize=543%2C372)
More geometric shapes and color washes. Art by Bert Tanner
This confused mess makes sense if you’ve read the book. Art by Bert Tanner
Plumbing the depths of the bombed-out lab. Art uncredited
![[June 18, 1968] I Just Read It for the Stories (February-June 1968 <i>Playboy</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/680618_PBCvrMarch.png?resize=672%2C372)
![[January 22, 1968] The Magical Mystery Tour (February 1968 <i>Fantasy and Science Fiction</i>…plus the Beatles movie!)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/680122both.jpg?resize=672%2C372)
The Mystery Bus attempting to flee its critics.
Yes, but why?
Everyone having a lovely time, apparently.![[November 18, 1967] Escape Velocity (November Galactoscope)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/671120covers.jpg?resize=672%2C372)
![[March 20, 1965] Clash of The Old & The New (February 1965 <i>Gamma</i> & <i>City of a Thousand Suns</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/650320covers.jpg?resize=672%2C372)
![[November 5, 1963] Beginning to see the light (November 1963 <i>Gamma</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/631105cover.jpg?resize=660%2C372)
