All posts by Gideon Marcus

Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[December 24, 1966] Unquiet on the Romulan Front (Star Trek: "Balance of Terror")

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Déjà vu


by Gideon Marcus

Under a blanket of unwinking stars, a lone vessel patrols on the trackless expanse between civilizations.  A distress call is heard: one, two, now three voices stilled in the night by an unknown raider.  Not long ago, the enemy had been defeated but not broken in war, and it seems the old adversary has returned.  Now, the navy ship probes out an unseen predator, cloaked in darkness, wielding torpedoes of death.

"The Enemy Below" (1957) Gregory Peck, Kurt Jurgens, 4:30 Channel 4

Er…strike that.

"Balance of Terror" (1966) William Shatner, Mark Lenard, 8:30 Channel 9

It has always been hinted that the Enterprise, the featured ship on Star Trek, is a military vessel.  Indeed, its role seems not unlike the frigates of the 19th Century, showing the flag at ports of call, projecting power at critical junctures, providing relief when requested.  But in this latest episode, we see Kirk and crew in a full-blown military situation, fighting a tactical battle with huge strategic ramifications.

"Balance of Terror" succeeds best at the big-picture stuff.  All at once, the burgeoning Earth civilization has at least one border.  Prior to this outing, there had been just one contact with a spacefaring race, and that ("The Corbomite Manuever") a particularly asymmetrical one. 

With the introductions of the Romulans, Earth now has an adversary of roughly comparable strength and abilities.  And what an intriguing adversary!  Mark Lenard, who I've seen on various other TV shows, gives a fine turn as the Romulan commander, war-weary but canny We also learn a bit more about the Vulcanians, and that their peaceful, logical ways are a comparatively recent development.  I would love to see the Romulans return as a regular foil for the Enterprise crew, though that may prove logistically impractical.  After all, the two nations are separated by a large Neutral Zone, and communication between them is explicitly limited.

The brooding cinematography of "The Man Trap" is back on display, and it is attractive ("Miri" director, Vince McEevety is also back).  Shatner is once again compelling in his role as commander, though there are not too many contributions from the ensemble this outing (though Kelley is awarded a few good scenes).  I appreciated that men and women are not only shown serving side-by-side effectively on a warship, but that they are also allowed to have human relationships, even to the point of getting married.  A far better future than the one envisioned by Dr. Richardson a decade ago, when he opined that spacefaring would be an all-stag operation, one which women would partake in only as prostitutes to satisfy the inevitable male urges.

Where "Balance of Terror" falls down, although not too often, is the tactical end of things.  Uncomfortable gymnastics are required to stuff Trek into a destroyer vs. sub plot.  Do the crews really have to stay silent to avoid being heard across thousands of kilometers of vacuum?  Why do the Enterprise's phasers shut down after their first salvo?  What, exactly, was the purpose of the two ships lying dead silent next to each other for half a day if Spock was just going to accidentally push the ping button on his console anyway?  Better if that had been a deliberate action.

Also, while I appreciated the anti-bigotry message that pervades the episode, it seemed odd that Stiles and Sulu would immediately suspect the presence of Romulan spies aboard the Enterprise—before we even saw that Romulans looked like Spock.  Given that it had been a century since humans and Romulans had had contact, and that neither side had ever seen each other or spoken directly to each other, how would the Romulans have a chance to infiltrate themselves into Earth space, and aboard a military vessel, at that?

Finally, why the hand-wringing over whether to engage the enemy or not?  The Romulans were the clear aggressors, they were on our side of the Neutral Zone, and the Enterprise specifically dispatched to investigate.  I can see Kirk worried about losing his vessel and his crew, but I'm not sure why he, and Sulu and McCoy, were advocating holding back for fear of starting a war.  After Pearl Harbor, were we (America) really concerned about making the Japanese mad by fighting back?

On the other hand, we've learned over the past half season that McCoy will always advocate the opposite of whatever Spock endorses.  If Spock had turned around and suggested retreat, McCoy would have urged for the attack.  Those two…

Anyway, it's a good episode, a promising one, but pacing issues and a derivative plot keep it at four stars.

A Dangerous Game of Peekaboo


by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)

It was about time that we finally got to see some bigger conflicts in the final frontier. Until now, all we’ve seen is petty squabbles between humans and the occasional alien. This episode marked the first time we find Kirk in a position where making even a single poor decision could have catastrophic repercussions that land him on the wrong side of history. Will Kirk be a hero, or will he allow the Romulans to start a war?

We’ve seen some of the ship's combat capabilities and some interesting tactics in past episodes, but not until “Balance of Terror” have we seen Kirk use the Enterprise in combat. In truth, I was interested in seeing how Kirk fared in battle. It was a thrill to see both captains make mistakes that the other capitalized on. They learned and adapted, and there’s just something beautiful about that dance between experts.

This was one of the more exciting episodes of Star Trek, but “Balance of Terror” fell short for me by turning Stiles into a revenge driven maniac and Kirk into a timid commander. Stiles was right: the Romulans had crossed over the neutral zone, destroyed several science stations, and were sneaking back across to report to their home planet, yet Kirk hesitated. It is lazy writing to have a leader who has every reason to act, but chooses not to because it creates more drama. 

But Stiles was right the way a stopped clock can be right. The way that he conducted himself was out of line. Stiles' bigotry is a deep-seated family affair. He didn’t even know what the Romulans looked like before he suspected Spock, the only alien aboard. Subtle hatred turned into fully-realized racism as soon as the Romulan captain was revealed. Kirk’s attempt to rein in his navigator with “their war, Mr. Stiles” did little to dispel his hatred.

Stiles’ mindset is unfortunately not uncommon. It’s all too familiar to me as a Vietnamese man. There are very few of my race in the United States, and I often get mistaken for a Japanese or Chinese man. There’s no doubt that I share some common ancestry with those nationalities, but it would be like mistaking an Dutchman for a German…or a Vulcanian for a Romulan. We are not the same, even if we look the same (to less discerning eyes). I appreciate Kirk’s repeated expressed opposition to bigotry. I am also glad that, in the end, Stiles learned the error of his ways. There is no place for bigotry on the Enterprise, especially when one considers that the fellow who plays Sulu (the best crewman) likely was imprisoned just for his race just twenty years ago.

I enjoyed the sniping interaction between Spock and McCoy in the last episode ( "Conscience of the King"), but it was just out of place here. McCoy’s objections to battling the invading Romulan seemed contrarian for no reason other than to continue the Spock vs. McCoy theme. I know the writers are capable of writing more complexity into this relationship, and I hope they do so. Still, I'm glad that Spock and McCoy's bickering has no racial basis; sometimes family just has to argue over everything.

Quibbles aside, I enjoyed the show. I hope to see the Romulans again and to see Kirk return to form.

4 Stars

Mirror images


by Andrea Castaneda

Andrea Castaneda here, news photographer extraordinaire.

Truth be told, I don't consider myself a huge Star Trek fan. I appreciate the show, yes, but it’s not something I've specifically sought out. But with “Balance of Terror”, I can now see why Star Trek is already beloved, even groundbreaking. 

There are two things I love in a show: well established emotional stakes and sympathetic antagonists. And this episode did a great job at showcasing both.

I appreciate how the show opens with a wedding ceremony. It’s a simple one, with the couple in uniform with only a white fascinator in the bride‘s hair. Captain Kirk seems genuinely moved by the young couple’s love. It's a nice moment of calm before the storm, and it sets emotional stakes for the episode that parallel the larger, political ones.

I also liked the organic way in which Kirk explained the Neutral Zone to his crew. It feels believable that there may be many on board who don’t understand the specifics, and the show explains it succinctly enough to clue the audience in without boring them.

Then we encounter the Romulans. We learn about their military philosophy, how they descended from the Vulcanians, and how their technology is a force to be reckoned with.  We meet the commander of the Romulan ship, coiffed with a haircut reminiscent of Julius Caesar. He comes across as a shrewd man, but not a cruel one. And after learning more about the Romulan philosophy, one can understand why he thinks he’s doing the right thing.

And this is where I enjoyed the show the most.

The commander is a savvy military man, meaning Kirk must step up. Kirk shows his military prowess, observing the enemy, consulting with his crew, and anticipating the Romulans’ next move. Yet Kirk does not revel in his victories. Instead, he expresses concern for his crew, self doubt over what happens “if he’s wrong”.

Meanwhile on the Romulan ship, their commander is simultaneously impressed and frustrated by Kirk’s outmaneuvering. After gaining the upper hand, he becomes torn between his duty and his desire to go home; duty wins out and compels him to move forward.

In the end, the Enterprise’s crew prevails, and the audience celebrates with them, yet I felt for the defeated commander. Yes, he initiated the attacks on Earth’s outposts. But the way he yearned for home was relatable, inspiring sympathy.

It’s what made the final exchange between him and Captain Kirk so memorable: “You and I are of a kind. In a different reality, I could have called you friend.”

It’s a fitting end for the antagonist, though I did wish we could see more of him.

Something that wasn’t made clear was why the Romulans were attacking in the first place other than a vague national desire for military conquest. I hope we see some diplomatic fallout over this incursion in a future episode. Also, I was disappointed in the resolution of Stiles' bigotry. Spock had to risk his life to prove that he's "a good person", relieving Stiles of actually examining his own prejudices.

Nevertheless, the episode created a great sense of vulnerability and concern for the characters and the intergalactic relations in general. And thanks to the earlier wedding scene, the one death of a lesser crewmember had a much more emotional impact.

Four stars.

A First True Trekian Tragedy


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

I think this episode was the first true tragedy in Star Trek and I deeply appreciated the depth it added to both the characters and the worlds they live in. In the episode, we see both sides of a conflict, shown through two commanders contesting their wills, driven by their cultures, their own personalities, and each holding within them their own tragic flaws. We already know one of Kirk’s major flaws, laid bare in The Enemy Within: he can be indecisive in the face of conflict. As Tam notes, the Romulan commander does not share this flaw. But he tends towards aggression, to the point of self-destruction. He seems to imply this is a cultural characteristic, in addition to a personal one:

Romulan Commander: When he attacks, we will destroy him. Our gift to the homeland, another war.

He continues critically, describing what he thinks his and his crew’s lots are:

”Obedience. Duty. Death and more death. Soon even enough for the Praetor's taste. Centurion, I find myself wishing for destruction before we can return.”

He certainly gets it.

The question rises for me, whether this episode could be a Greek or a Shakesperian tragedy. It would be interesting to contemplate the extent to which Dr McCoy is serving as Greek Chorus, commenting on the main action, speaking for the Gods who desire more peace and less death; but, to me and asking Tam’s forgiveness for bringing up the Bard again, it feels more Shakesperian. We see “two households, both alike in dignity,” fighting and hiding along a functional demilitarized zone. The Romulan Commander has Othello’s battle smarts and there is something of Prince Hal’s early relationship with Falstaff in his conversations with his Centurion. The Commander’s death – drawn out, with a monologue, intrinsically tied to his tragic flaw–feels ready-made for the wooden stage of the Globe.

But Kirk and the Romulan Commander’s tragedy is not the only one in Balance of Terror. The story begins with a wedding and ends with a funeral. We see no tragic flaw in Angela Martine or Robert Tomlinson, unless it was his obedience. To me, that makes his senseless death and her bereavement feel like a modern tragedy: one with no purpose, no pat lesson, just the reality that after death and destruction, we need to get up and keep going. Angela’s expression as she gives the last line of the episode, telling Kirk “I’m all right,” reminded me of the expressions of thousands of widows of the soldiers, airmen, marines, and sailors killed in Vietnam this year on all sides.

Five stars.




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[December 14, 1966] (Star Trek: The Conscience of the King)

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Shakespearean Tragedy


by Erica Frank

Twenty years ago, on stardate 2794.7, a tragedy occurred on the fledgling colony of Tarsus IV. A fungus had infected most of their food stores, and there was not enough left for the colony to survive.

Faced with a crisis, Governor Kodos invoked martial law and made a shocking decision: Instead of waiting for slow starvation to destroy the entire colony, he attempted to assure partial survival by killing half of the colony's people. While this might be the kind of "hard decision" any planetary leader might face, Kodos earned himself the title "the Executioner" for it. This was likely less because of the choice he made than the way he implemented it: He did not draw random lots, nor did he have a computer calculate the best odds of survival based on the colony's needs for personnel. Instead, he personally decided who would live and who would die—killing parents and leaving children alive in some cases, and the reverse in others.

When the supply ships arrived earlier than expected—earlier enough to have saved everyone, had Kodos only waited—they found Kodos's body, burned beyond recognition. That was believed to be the end of the Tarsus IV tragedy… until 20 years later. Tom Leighton, a scientist and one of the few survivors who had met Kodos in person, recognized his voice in a group of Shakespearean actors.

Leighton called for Kirk (under some false pretences) to help him verify this, as Kirk was one of the few people who had also met Kodos. Leighton believed Karidian, the lead actor and head of the company, was Kodos. So this week's episode begins.


Kodos the Executioner (left) and Karidian (right)… could this be the same man?

In the course of checking Leighton's claims, Kirk discovers some odd details about the acting company… and Leighton is murdered.

Kirk, never one to call in external authorities or discuss plans with his talented command staff, decides the best way forward is to bring the company onto the ship, tell no one what he suspects, and…

At this point, my logic fails me. I'm not sure what the actual plan is, other than, "If Karidian is not Kodos, we'll just travel 8 light years out of our normal route and drop them off at their next scheduled planet." In the meantime, Kirk makes very friendly with Karidian's daughter, Lenore, who is never seen in the same outfit twice.


Lenore appears on the bridge of the Enterprise wearing what appears to be a furry pillowcase held in place by a furry scarf and a brooch.

It turns out that only nine people have seen Kodos in person, and most of them died when the Karidian company was nearby. In fact, only Captain Kirk and Kevin Riley are still alive.

…Do you remember Kevin Riley? He caught the alien virus in The Naked Time, locked everyone out of Engineering, and sang Irish songs over the intercom. He's recently been promoted, but Kirk busts him back down to Engineering alone—presumably, to keep him safe, but nobody tells him that. Kirk doesn't tell Spock why he's demoting the Ensign, either.

Spock does put the pieces together and demands to know why Kirk is risking his life. (That's rich, coming from the man who hijacked the Enterprise to haul it to the one planet with a death penalty for visiting.) Kirk tells Spock to leave his personal life alone. Spock very politely does not point out that 400+ crew members unknowingly traveling with a potential murderer is a bit outside the scope of Kirk's "personal life."

Isolating Riley doesn't help—someone manages to poison him. But since he was on the intercom at the time, asking his friends to talk to him (and Uhura to sing to him), they hear him call for help and whisk him away to sickbay just in time. However, when he overhears McCoy talking about the possibility that Karidian is Kodos, Riley sneaks off, grabs a phaser, and heads for the production of Hamlet.


"He murdered my father! My mother! I know that voice. That face… I know it!"

Riley is about to shoot Karidian, but Kirk stops him just in time. However, Karidian hears him, and is distressed that he recognizes the voice. Uness Riley is much older than he looks, he must've been, at most, a young teenager at the time; it's strange that Karidian would recognize it.

Backstage, Karidian talks with Lenore, in an intense, emotion-fraught speech about guilt, past decisions, and facing consequences. But no, Lenore assures him, he will never face the consequences of what he's done… because she's been killing the ones who might report him. Karidian/Kodos is horrified—he'd thought she was the one "pure" thing in his life, the only part untouched by his dark history. She is unrepentant, insisting she "would have killed a world to save him." To prevent them from being arrested, Lenore grabs a phaser and points it at Kirk. He points out that she'll never get off the ship.


"It will become floating tomb, drifting through space with the soul of the great Karidian, giving performances at every star he touches…"

She takes a shot at Kirk, but her father jumps in the way—and crumples before her, dead. She cannot accept this, cannot cope with what she's done, and her mind breaks. She is eventually taken to an institution, and believes that her father is still performing while traveling between the stars.

My notes contain the phrase, "lots of meaningful emotional monologuing that I tuned out." Lenore and Karidian were certainly both very dramatic. Perhaps their words would have more impact if I'd ever seen Hamlet performed.

I loved the look into Kirk's history, Karidian's sense of guilt (while still being too selfish to turn himself in), and the return of Riley. However, nobody lost a shirt in this episode, not even actors changing backstage.

3½ stars.

The Lady Doth Protest Too Much


by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)

Before I say anything about “Conscience of the King”, I just want to tip my hat to DeForest Kelley for one of my favorite scenes to date. McCoy’s casual demeanor while conversing with an agitated Spock was a delightful contrast to the usual stone-faced Spock vs. the emotional McCoy. With a drink in hand, McCoy masterfully navigated Spock’s concerns. It seems that this is a reoccurring dynamic between these two, and let’s just say that I wouldn’t be disappointed if they made a few Spock and McCoy centered episodes.

The rest of the episode wasn’t nearly as good. It played around with themes that didn’t seem to go anywhere. Man vs. machine, computers vs. emotions, logic vs. feelings. These ideas were brought up throughout the episode, but in the end, nothing came of them. There were no decisions being made by man nor machine—if any decisions were made at all. Kirk’s emotions didn’t play a role, and all his toiling over the computer and its logic made no difference. It felt as though there was an underlying message or moral that we were supposed to learn, but the message got lost. This episode might have been great if it had stuck to a single theme and followed through on it.

I really appreciated how light it was on the Shakespeare…until it wasn’t. I get that Shakespeare is famous and everyone loves anything to do with Shakespeare, but I find incorporation of Shakespeare in stories is often heavy handed. I think I groaned out loud at the very first scene because I thought I was about to endure Star Trek: Where Shakespeare Has Never Gone Before, but I was relieved to see the Bard actually play a very minor role in the episode. That all ended abruptly in the final scene. Closeups of Lenore’s contorted face forcing out lines of Shakespeare for nearly ten minutes was like a nightmare come true. She was relatively stable and seemingly aware of her decisions to murder innocent people until she suddenly wasn’t. If she had accidentally killed her father before losing her mind, that would have made sense, but the episode wasn’t over yet and there was still Shakespeare to be had. It’ll be too soon if I never see another Shakespeare themed episode of any show ever again. Did I mention Shakespeare?


"Are you bringing me in for genocide?" "No, you've exceeded your Shakespeare quota"

3 Stars

Detached Devices and Sensitive Spock


by Gideon Marcus

There is a lot to like about this latest episode, but also much that annoys.  On the one hand, we got some lovely background on Kirk (and Riley!  Childhood chums?) and a bit more color to the universe at large.  We saw a new planet (suspiciously similar to the one in "Mudd's Women") and heard about another ship (the Astral Queen) and learned that even centuries from now, theater is still a coveted art form.  A nice human element in a mechanized society.

So what didn't I like?  It certainly seems like they took a half hour story and expanded it to an hour format.  Kirk runs yet another test that determines Karidian is likely Kodos.  Spock urges Kirk to take action.  Kirk is uncharacteristically indecisive, worried about condemning an innocent man.  This cycle happens at least four times.

Nimoy's performance is all over the place this episode: chatty, dramatic—it feels like early Spock again.  Maybe it's another out-of-order episode.  Though even odd Spock has an, ah, dramatic impact on the young women in our group who watch the show.  One in particular could not help but sigh appreciatively throughout the show.

If Spock was off, Uhura was decidedly on.  I loved her musical interlude, which felt perfectly natural, and was also a delight to hear.  It was also nice to see Riley again, who is clearly destined to be a semi-regular like Sulu (with whom he has good chemistry). 

But the star of the show was the ship's computer, who finally got to shine.  I am used to science fiction computers either being helpful robots a la Robby from Forbidden Planet or the donut-head from Lost in Space, or they are giant sentient machines with human emotions, a la Agnes from that horrible Wally Cox Twilight Zone episode.

This time, we see what a future computer might actually be like—an extremely vast database with voice-active search and correlation functions.  The mainframe also has time-sharing capabilities; I bet every crewmember could access the machine at the same time with little loss in program efficiency.  Lord, what I wouldn't give for a setup like that!

In the end, I think that's what sets Trek apart from other television.  Lots of shows have good stories, engaging actors, compelling cinematography, etc.  But Trek incorporates real science and technology into the show.  It feels like the future, in a non-flashy way.

"Conscience of the King" is not a great episode, but it presents a rich galaxy, one whose beginnings I hope to live long enough to see.

3 stars.

A Glance at Captain Kirk’s Psychology


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

In this week’s episode, we learned that Captain Kirk is a survivor of genocide. The traumatic impact of that experience will inform how I understand him as a character, so I wanted to spend a moment diving into what it could mean to survive something like Tarsus IV. (NB: I am certain that some readers have experienced genocide personally or through their family memories, or may have family currently suffering it in the Biafra state in Nigeria or Indonesia. If you need to, please take care of yourself and feel free to skip this review.)

Since the word “genocide” does not appear in The Conscience of the King I would like to start with the United Nations’ 1951 Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide defines genocide as:

In the present Convention, genocide means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such:

  1. Killing members of the group;
  2. Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;
  3. Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part;
  4. Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group;
  5. Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.

Governor Kodos’s regime’s actions on Tarsus IV appear to satisfy 1), 2), and 3) from the United Nations’ definition, if we assume there was some amoral logic to his group selection. Dr. Leighton in particular seems to have suffered “serious bodily” and “mental harm,” though it is possible the symptoms of his survivor’s syndrome are just more visible. In Leighton’s short scenes, he shows an intense focus on Governor Kodos, his memories of Tarsus IV seem to remain alive and present for him, and he has a thousand-yard stare I associate with someone with shell shock.

Lieutenant Riley seems to have no memory of Tarsus IV until he hears Governor Kodos’ voice, at which point he becomes violently agitated and attempts to murder him. This looks like repression, followed by the explosive reactions that can result from long-term suppression of traumatic memories.

Captain Kirk’s reactions are more complex. On the surface, he treats the threat of Kodos’s return lightly, declaring “Kodos is dead” without much clear consideration. Erica rightly points out that Kirk’s plan in the second half of the episode makes little sense, given what he says his motivations are. But under the surface, something motivates him to use every power at his resource as a ship’s captain to seek out the truth.

Something is driving him with the same intensity of focus as Dr. Leighton showed. Something is brewing under that stoicism—perhaps it is actually a more refined brand of the repression that Lieutenant Riley shows. Kirk is of course a fictional character, but if he were a real person who survived the starvation, eugenics experiments, personal violence, and mass violence that happened on Tarsus IV, we would continue to see these effects. I’m curious how it has impacted his relationship with food, with social science, with companionship, and with his role as a leader making life-and-death decisions for those around him.

For more on the individual psychology of mass trauma, ask your local reference librarian for the translated writings of Dutch psychiatrist and Auschwitz survivor Dr. Eliazar de Wind, particularly what he calls “KZ Syndrome.” Also keep an eye out for publications from Auschwitz, Buchenwald and Sachsenhausen survivor Dr. Henry Krystal on “Mass Psychic Trauma,” based on the proceedings of the 1962-1965 workshops of that name at Wayne State University in Detroit, MI.

The Conscience of the King might have been my favorite episode, not the least because (unlike Tam) I adore anything to do with Shakespeare. I loved the chance to get more psychological depth on Kirk. I suspect it will pay off later down the line.

Five stars.

(The next episode of Star Trek looks amazing!  Join us tomorrow night at 8:30 PM (Pacific AND Eastern — two showings)!!)

Here's the invitation!



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[November 30, 1966] Marking time (December 1966 Analog)

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But first, please read this brief interlude!

As you know, in addition to Galactic Journey, I also run Journey Press, devoted both to republishing classics discovered while on this trek through time, but also to publish new works of science fiction in fantasy that (I hope!) live up to the quality and tradition of the classic works we offer.

If anyone would enjoy these works, we know it will be you.  This holiday season, pick up a title or three from Journey Press!  It's the best present you can give yourself, a loved one…and us!


by Gideon Marcus

Bogged down

With more than half a million American troops in Vietnam now, the South Vietnamese are starting to feel like they're living under occupation.  There's no doubt who's calling the shots these days.  The question is, is this surge of military force going to be enough to drag Ho Chi Minh to the bargaining table?

Despite the flow of optimistic figures from the Pentagon, it doesn't look like peace or even peace overtures will happen any time soon.  The closest we've gotten is securing a pair of holiday ceasefires.  So, expect a long slog and nightly death counts on the evening news for the forseeable future.  Better dead than Red, right?


American soldiers enjoy a Thanksgiving respite before heading off to combat again.  They may end up taking as long getting to Hanoi as it's taking Saunders and Kelly to get to Berlin.

In the trenches

Meanwhile, the December 1966 Analog constitutes a landmark of sorts — it's the last magazine of the year!  And, like Vietnam, it's often been a tedious, dragging affair.  This month is no different, though the magazine starts better than it ends.  Let's get our report from the front, shall we?

A quick note on the inside cover this month.  Yes, the one editor whose editorials I skip every month has bundled his loony screeds together and is offering them in book form. Or as Tom Lehrer put it:

Now there's a charge for what she used to give for free…

He even got Harry Harrison to shill for him.  I have to disagree with Harrison, though: while Campbell indeed may be "idiosyncratic, prejudiced, and annoying", he also is usually quite boring.

Don't fail to miss!

Amazon Planet (Part 1 of 3), by Mack Reynolds


by Kelly Freas

Mack Reynolds once again sets a tale in his loosely knit United Planets.  Humanity has sprawled across hundreds of stars, and one of the primary tenets of this community is that each colony expresses itself as it likes so long as it harms no other world.

As might be deduced from the title, this latest novel features a matriarchy planet, one where the "traditional" (read mid-20th Century) gender roles are reversed.  Well, not so much features, as this first third of the novel takes place not on "Amazonia", but on a freighter headed toward it.  There are only two passengers: Terran Guy Thomas, a deceptively mild trader with plans to open Amazonia up to the niobium trade, and Patricia O' Gara, refugee from the exceedingly puritanical colony of Victoria.

There's not a lot of action in this section.  Mostly crew mates talking about how terribly men are treated on Amazonia, Pat (and later a troop of Amazons) explaining how they're wrong, and Guy acting as something of a catalyst for discussion.  It's all rendered rather broadly, but simply the fact that this subject is even being discussed, and a matriarchy is not being played for laughs, is interesting.

I'm waiting to see where it goes; this could be an awful, sexist piece or it could be an enlightened one.  Only time will tell (though Reynolds has a good track record on this front).

Three stars.

The Weathermakers, by Ben Bova


by Leo Summers

Hurricane season is hotting up, and it's up to Ted, Jerry, Tuli, and Barney (the last a woman) of Project THUNDER to ensure none of these storms hits the Atlantic seaboard.  To accomplish this, they'll use cloud seeding planes and orbital lasers to increase the equilibrium of the systems, smoothing them out before they become rotating furies.

But when these methods prove insufficient, only true weather control on a national scale can save Washington D.C. from a devastating cyclone.

The Weathermakers is actually an excerpt from an upcoming novel, presumably the climax.  It's exciting enough, and the technology is interesting, although I have to wonder if pumping extra heat energy into the Earth's atmosphere isn't ultimately a dangerous thing.

It's all a bit gung ho and simplistic, more what I'd expect from a juvenile.  This is not a bad thing, of course.  We can use more juvenile authors of merit.

Four stars.

Cytoplasmic Inheritance , by Carl A. Larson

The nonfiction article this issue is an extremely abstruse, but not unreadable, piece on the role the cytoplasm plays in genetics.  Apparently, it's not all governed by DNA in the nucleus.

Biology's not my bag, and a lot of it went over my head, but I did read it and found interest in it.

Three stars.

The Blue-Penciled Throop, by L. Edey

It's all downhill from here.  First, we've got another in the epistolary Throop series, basically an excuse for Campbell to tell us how hard his job is as editor having to deal with a bunch of nincompoops.

Two stars.

The Price of Simeryl, by Kris Neville


by Leo Summers

The colony of Elanth has got itself in a bind.  The local government bought too much of the addictive Simeryl drug to pacify the indigenous Elanthians, who both are having trouble meeting their farm quotas and are spending too much time fighting the Coelanths, a vicious species that has enjoyed a recent resurgence.  Third Foreign Secretary Raleigh is sent to the planet to fact-find pending a solution.

Wow, that didn't take me long to write at all.  The story, on the other hand, is presented as a set of interminable interviews with various government officials, none of them pleasant or particularly distinctive from each other.  And in the end, there is no revelation.  The story is perhaps five times longer than it needs to be.  Even at its best, it's pointless.

Also, I'm getting a little tired of putative future governments with nary a woman to be found in them.  From Ann Rosenberg Hoffman to Margaret Chase Smith to Indira Gandhi, we've had many prominent female lawmakers and cabinet leaders.  It's time to feature women in our science fiction at least to the degree they are represented on 1966 Earth, and not just in extreme cases as depicted in the Reynolds this month.

One star.

Under the Dragon's Tail, by Philip Latham


by Leo Summers

Finally, "Philip Latham" (Dr. Robert S. Richardson, who writes great nonfiction), turns in a piece that's basically the day-to-day dreariness of an assistant planetarium manager.  That an asteroid is going to smack down in Griffith Park at the end is a mostly extraneous detail.

Two stars.

Looking Back

Well, that wasn't very good, was it?  Indeed, Analog sets a record of sorts: at 2.5 stars, it is the worst magazine of the month.  Slightly better, though still dismal, was Fantasy and Science Fiction (2.6).  Amazingly enough, Amazing beat out both of them with 2.9 stars.

Above the mediocrity line lie siblings Galaxy (3.1) and IF (3.2) The British mags top out the list with Impulse at 3.3 and New Worlds at a whopping 3.6!

There was exactly one story by a woman this month.  I had thought '66 would be better than '65 in this regard, but no dice.  To paraphrase Mrs. Rosenberg Hoffman, Assistant Defense Secretary under Truman, science fiction without women is an industry half-idle.  I hope things get better soon.

I guess we'll continue to mark time until then…

Did you remember to check out Journey Press?

Here's a helpful reminder!



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[November 22, 1966] Ha ha.  Very funny.  (December 1966 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Joke's on me

I have a buddy in the Costume Designers Guild (you know her, too — she's Gwyn Conaway).  She keeps me up to date with the inside dope on Hollywood.  One tidbit she offered up recently was something she paraphrased from a manual for actors published this year: the last words of the actor, Edmund Gwenn, who passed away in 1959.  A visitor to his deathbed exclaimed that his final ordeal must be hard for him.

Gwenn replied, "Dying is easy.  Comedy is hard."

I think it was in Lighthouse, a fanzine for pros, that Lester del Rey suggested more writers should go into comedy rather than flogging the same tired "serious" science fiction canards.  The problem is that humor is harder than seriosity.  An inexerpt attempt to make one laugh produces the opposite effect.

And God help us all if an editor decides to fill an entire magazine with failed attempts.  This month's Fantasy and Science Fiction, for example…

No laughing matter


by Howard Purcell

Sabotage, by Christopher Anvil

Chris Anvil normally writes for Analog.  His stories often pit humans outstmarting aliens with a bit of clever sophistry those stupid ETs (inevitably made of straw) could never conceive of, let alone counter.  How one of these tales got into F&SF, I'll never know.

The setup: the vaporous Tamar and Earth are in a stalemated war.  Earth has the technology, but Tamar has the psychology.  They possess our people and try to sabotage our efforts.  None of their attempts have been particularly successful, but the latest threatens to be a doozy.  College students are becoming increasingly disaffected by something they're being taught, and while the immediate effect is small, the cascade could be disastrous.  Luckily, Officer McAmerican (every character's name is in Rank Surname format) is able to counter the insidious teaching with a lesson plan of his own.

Obviously, this is some kind of anti-Communist metaphor; again, one wonders why Campbell didn't pick it up.  Perhaps he's full up on Anvil stories.  F&SF may pay more these days, too.  Anyway, Sabotage is three times longer than it needs to be — or it's infinity times longer, if you feel the story never needed to be written.

Two stars.


by Gahan Wilson

The Mystery of the Purloined Grenouilles, by Gerald Jonas

In his first published story, Jonas gives us a baroquely told tale of a man who creates energy through reverse Galvanism: he hooks frogs up to a generator and tickles their legs.

Two stars.

Doubting Thomas, by Thomas M. Disch

Disch is an author who started so promisingly, but if this story, of a computer designed to suss out the veracity of magical events, is any indicaton of where he's headed, he might as well throw in the Smith-Corona. 

It just ain't funny, nor is it fun to read.  One stars.

The Martian Atmosphere, by Theodore L. Thomas

The "science" article describes what we know about the components of Mars' atmosphere.  Thomas seems to believe that because there's no oxygen that something must have happened to it.  Which presupposes it was ever there in the first place.  He also assumes that the carbon dioxide that makes up the majority of the Martian atmosphere is a byproduct of respiration.

At some point, we're going to have to come to terms with the fact that there's no life on Mars.

Two stars.

Von Goom's Gambit, by Victor Contoski

Take any position of the pieces on the chessboard. Usually it tells of the logical or semi-logical plans of the players, their strategy in playing for a win or a draw, and their personalities. If you see a pattern from the King's Gambit Accepted, you know that both players are tacticians, that the fight will be brief but fierce. A pattern from the Queen's Gambit Declined, however, tells that the players are strategists playing for minute advantages, the weakening of one square or the placing of a Rook on a half-opened file. From such patterns, pleasing or displeasing, you can tell much not only about the game and the players but also about man in general, and perhaps even about the order of the universe.

Contoski's tale, also apparently his first, is about an opening so repulsive, it is irresistible.  I'm a sucker for chess stories, and this is the first readable piece in the issue. 

Three stars.

The Green Snow, by Miriam Allen deFord

At first, it seems deFord will provide a bulwark against the droll tide.  After all, deFord is quite deft with menace and creep, skilled at eliciting deep and dark emotion, but she doesn't do comedy.  Thus, while a story that begins with the gentle falling of green-tinted snowflakes could have been a romp for others, in deFord's hands, it's clear we're in for a horror.

She executes it well-enough, though there's something of the last decade about it in its flavor.  But then, as if prodded by an editor overeager to have every story fit his chosen theme for the month, deFord adds a heavy handed joke at the end.

Which, of course, falls flat.  deFord doesn't do comedy…

The Gods, by L. Sprague de Camp

If there is humor in this short poem about the passage of the gods from human devotion, it is ironic.  In all fairness, I did enjoy this piece quite a bit.

Four stars.

The Symbol-Minded Chemist, by Isaac Asimov

The always good-humored Doctor A manages to stave off the jokeyness for another dozen pages, writing on the origin of chemistry's alphabet soup.  I always enjoy etymological articles, although the list of elements by alphabetical order of their chemical name seems a bit of padding.

Four stars.

Bumberboom, by Avram Davidson

It is centuries after The Bomb, and the resulting, almost anarchic society that sprawls across the Eastern Seaboard is threatened by Bumberboom.  It is a great cannon, though it has not fired a shot in generations, tended by an increasingly inbred crew, whose Captain Mog, somewhere between an idiot and a moron, is the brightest of the bunch.

Enter Mallian, son of Hazelip, who sees the ancient gun as an opportunity to carve a feudal realm out of the upstate New York, with him as its sovereign.

Bumberboom reads something like a cross between Jack Vance and R. A. Lafferty, combining the poetic resonance and creative settings that are the signatures of the former with the sometimes incomprehensible whimsy of the latter.  Davidson's problem is that when he decides to go for funny, he often writes himself into a twisted corner, his sentences meandering to get free of themselves.

Still, once you're into it, it's not so bad. Three stars.

The punchline

But not so bad is also not so good.  My nephew, David, called me last month to let me know he'd let his subscription to F&SF lapse.  I told him he was overreacting, that things had gotten better since Ferman had taken over from Davidson.  Now I can already hear an "I told you so" coming my way.

No joke!


Not me this month.



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[November 14, 1966] Star Trek: "The Corbomite Maneuver"

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A Strange Step Backward


by Gideon Marcus

With the round robin review format we've set up for Star Trek, everyone's obligations are pretty small, with the exception of the person assigned the head: the first, summarizing piece of the article.  I drew the short straw this week, possibly the most challenging week in the history of this new show.

Because a summary's job is to explain what happened.  And in "The Corbomite Maneuver", virtually nothing happened. 

Repeatedly.

The episode boils down to this: The Enterprise travels into an unexplored area of space. An alien ship intercepts the Earth ship, traps it, and threatens to destroy it.  The alien ship takes many guises — first a multicolored cube, then a giant globe of incandescent lights, then a set of glowing soap bubbles (admittedly gorgeous effects), but the scenario is always the same.  The Enterprise tries to break free, dramatic music plays, people fall out of their chairs or bounce around in hallways. The navigator-of-the-week, this time a ‘Lieutenant Bailey’ (anxious, overeager, promoted too early) occasionally has a breakdown. Lieutenant Uhura says "Hailing Frequencies open" a half dozen times, looking rather bored.


"I should have stayed with Ma Bell…"

Eventually, we learn that the whole thing was a test. The alien, Balok of the First Federation (Ron Howard's little brother), never planned to destroy the Enterprise. On the one hand, I appreciate an episode without a villain, one that challenges the hubris that we are the most powerful or the kindest race in the galaxy.

On the other hand, once we know that Kirk and his crew were never in danger, everything becomes a cheat.  The tension, the clever attempts to outmaneuver Balok (with warp engines or poker metaphors), all of it is meaningless.

Add to that a certain unevenness of the episode.  It is pretty clear this episode was filmed before the others we've seen in the series. Spock is yelling again, is wearing his old uniform, and his haircut is more severe.  Shatner has less of a grip on the Kirk character, playing him on a short fuse. As with "Where No Man has Gone Before", everything feels rawer, cheaper, more like an episode of Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea.  Perhaps it was the consciously military mien of the scenario and character interactions.

All this kvetching suggests I didn't like the episode.  That's not quite right. There are some great exchanges, particularly any involving DeForest Kelley (Dr. McCoy). George Takei's Sulu is a delight, with a lot of great subtle expressions. Yeoman Rand got an entire episode free of assault (though Kirk resents her existence as a woman). The special effects are really excellent, and probably the reason the episode got delayed. 


That's a really big Christmas ornament…

But for the most part, I was just kind of bored. That's a new experience for me with Star Trek, which has hitherto been either great or problematic. However, if "Maneuver" really is an early episode, that means we're actually on an upward rather than a downward trend. Plus, next week's episode, which looks like it will incorporate the terrific first pilot, is very promising.

So, three stars, but I won't hold it against the show.

Zero-Sum Game


by Janice L. Newman

As Gideon notes, The Corbomite Maneuver was a, shall we say, uneven episode. The first time the ship was ‘about to be destroyed’ it was exciting. By the third time, it was definitely less impactful. On the other hand, the story had plenty of great moments. The problem was, these ended up undermining each other.

For example, Captain Kirk pulls off a wonderful bluff where he apparently convinces the enemy that destroying their ship will result in the destruction of their own vessel – the bluff being the titular ‘Corbomite Maneuver’. It’s a desperate, brilliant moment that would have made a fantastic climax for the episode. Everything, from Spock saying that it was ‘well-played’, to Bailey returning to the bridge, to Kirk’s sigh of relief when the ship is not destroyed (not to mention McCoy’s overeager offer to teach Spock the game of poker) makes for a great piece of television.


The gambit pays off.

Unfortunately, it’s not the climax of the episode – or rather, it’s the climax, but not the end. And then, when we do reach the end of the story, we learn something which by itself would have made for a clever plot twist. It turns out that the entire set of encounters were orchestrated by a single entity, a powerful being who claims that it was ‘all a test’.

This is something we haven’t seen before. Yes, in Where No Man Has Gone Before and Charlie X we had immensely powerful beings, be they humans or aliens. And in The Cage we did see powerful alien minds manipulating humans to try to get something from them. But we’ve never seen (presumably benevolent) aliens simply ‘testing’ humans to learn their ‘real intentions’. It would have been a great reversal, if only it hadn’t undermined everything which had come before. The clever parts of the story, rather than building on each other, unfortunately canceled each other out.


"Just kidding!"

Lieutenant Bailey's interactions with the captain rang an odd note in the episode. Kirk's "tough love" attitude toward him reminded me strongly of the captain in "The Bedford Incident", and I kept half-expecting Bailey to fire the ship's 'phasers' when he wasn't supposed to (instead he did the opposite, freezing in the moment of crisis).

I do want to make several notes about special effects. First, the lights making up alien ships were extremely effective (and I understand these effects were so involved that they delayed the release of this episode, which was meant to be much earlier in the line up). Second, the figure of Commander Balock that appeared on the Enterprise’s screen was an unconvincing one, yet it was plausible enough for our generation — after all, we were raised on puppet shows and other primitive special effects. The fact that the episode’s writer subverted these expectations and made the figure an actual puppet was absolutely ingenious. And third, the best special effect in the entire show had to be the dubbing of little Clint Howard with an adult’s voice.


"You Have Two Minutes Until Howdy Doody Time!"

3 stars, for the special effects, the cleverness, and the banter.

Off Kilter


by Lorelei Marcus

I enjoyed the overall message of "The Corbomite Maneuver", but I felt the episode had to make some sacrifices to get there.  In particular, the atmosphere of the ship and everyone's characterizations were severely altered from what we've seen thus far.  Captain Kirk seemed forced into the role of the hard-edged, authoritarian Captain.  The women of the crew were more stereotypically portrayed, pushed aside even, so that the men could have their dramatic moments.  Uhura looks bored.  Yeoman Rand exists to make coffee and salad and annoy Captain Kirk by being a woman.  All in all, the Enterprise felt much more current-day Navy in portrayal, and more militaristic in character.


"Did I say 'at ease', mister?"

The special effects were, as has been noted, a cut above.  But I would have liked to have seen this story told with the same Enterprise we're coming to know and love, rather than this odd, warped one, seemingly created to fit the plot's needs. 

With a mid-tier story, great visuals, and inconsistent characterization, I give "Corbomite" three stars.


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

A Different Kind of Man Behind the Curtain

When I first heard Balok speak in this week’s episode, his voice reminded me of Frank Morgan’s booming performance in The Wizard of Oz (1939). The imagery and tactics reminded me of it as well: flowing curtains of light cascaded over Balok’s alien face, the crew of the Enterprise scrambling to bargain and trick their way out of the crisis as a seemingly all-powerful wizard holding hapless visitors to arbitrary and impossible rules.

When we found that, like The Great and Powerful Oz, Balok was a small man, pulling puppet strings to intimidate and test those around him, the twist felt familiar. But that moment was also where these two fantasies diverged: where the Wizard is venal and greedy, Balok is confident and curious. He is not a huckster, but a representative of a technologically-advanced society, able to control a vast space edifice from his tiny ship, and interested in learning the truth about the crew of the Enterprise.

While Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Lion, and the Tin Man beg the Wizard to make them whole and take them home, Kirk, McCoy and Bailey don’t need any such boons from Balok. But he offers them anyway, opening up the possibility of cultural exchange between his First Federation and Kirk’s crew. Bailey, who had spent most of the episode as a cowardly lion, gracefully agrees to the exchange as the episode closes.


"We're off to see the Wizard!"

The parallels are not perfect — though if Mr.Spock had filled out the boarding party in the role of the Tin Man seeking a heart he already has, it might have been — but they are productive. Like the friends of Dorothy, Bailey, McCoy, and Spock spend the episode trying to free themselves from traps and get what they think they need. And like the Scarecrow, the Lion, and the Tin Man, in the end, the powers they were seeking to work around were not what they seemed.

I liked that, in this case, the powers were greater. Perhaps, if Balok had been behind the curtain in Oz, Dorothy and company would have gotten more than toys, but the true connection and understanding they needed in their journeys. I hope that future episodes are more even in tone, but also that they continue to expand our views of the universe the way Balok will for Bailey.

Three stars.



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[November 12, 1966] A Family Tradition (December 1966 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Identical cousins

My brother Louis and I diverge quite a lot.  He's an observant Jew, I'm an atheist.  He served in World War 2 (drafted into the Navy), I did not.  He's an affluent pawnbroker.  I'm a writer of questionable success.

But where we differ the most is the subjects of our avocational devotion.  Lou loves opera.  Specifically operas written in 1812 between October and November.  I kid, but his musical tastes are really quite narrow; his radio knob never turns from the FM classical stations.  I am far more catholic in my interests, enjoying everything from classical, to the swing of my teen years, to the brand new sounds.

Also, Lou hates science fiction.

Interestingly, his son David (thus, my nephew), loves SF as much as I do.  Must be this newfangled "generation gap" we're starting to hear about. 

For the last 15 years or so, he and I have swapped recommendations, and he's even lent me some of his magazines.  Our tastes are not identical.  He recently canceled his subscription to The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, and he is a big fan of Analog.  But we have some strong overlap, particularly where it comes to Galaxy.  In fact, that picture is him in his San Pedro home enjoying this month's issue.

I am thankful that my own daughter, David's first cousin, is also a devoted science fiction fan.  I'd hate to have to throw her out of the house before her eighteenth birthday.

Kidding, again!  I'd surely wait for her to be of age before disowning her.

But, that's not anything we have to worry about, for we are all one big happy family of fen, and we all dug the December 1966 Galaxy — read on and see why!


by Paul E. Wenzel

The issue at hand


by Virgil Finlay

Door to Anywhere, by Poul Anderson

Humanity has developed teleportation technology, and Mars has become a hub for galactic exploration.  But a recent jaunt to the edge of the known universe caused the destruction of several portals and the loss of a senator's brother-in-law.  Now the politician has arrived on the Red Planet to investigate.

When Poul Anderson sets his mind to it, he can write.  Not only is this an effective story, with the mystery disclosed one layer at a time, but it is technically interesting.  It's the first depiction of teleportation I've read that takes relative velocities into consideration.  A trip to a nearby star could require hops to a dozen intermediaries across the galaxy, or multiple galaxies, to ensure the difference in relative momenta is not too great.  I also appreciated the political discussion over the virtues and peril of building a teleporter too close to the Earth.

Where the story falters to some degree is its characterization: Anderson is still in the Kowalski, Yamamoto, Singh habit of defining players by their nationality — and women are strangely absent.  Also, the Hoylean/Hubblean fusion of cosmological theories seems like a lot of gobbledegook.

Nevertheless, it's a riveting read.  Definitely four stars.

Children in Hiding, by John Brunner

I'm told there are two John Brunners.  One is the brilliant Englishman who produced Listen…the Stars! and The Whole Man, both Star-winners and Hugo nominees.  The other is the American who produces schlock.

The latter wrote Children in Hiding.  The premise: the children on a colony world are born healthy but never develop mental capacities beyond that of infants.  A terran troubleshooter is brought in to fix the problem.  He does, but not to the benefit of the colony.

There's a lot of angry dialogue and excessive use of exclamation points, and the end is just stupid.  I'll give the piece two stars because both Brunners write coherently, but all in all, it's a disappointing story.

The Modern Penitentiary, by Hayden Howard


by Jack Gaughan

Ah, and now we have another story of the Esks, a race of Eskimo/alien hybrids that spawn children every month.  Children that mature in five years.  Throughout the series, we've seen the Esks explode in population, exhausting their environment and crowding out the real Eskimos.  In this, they are facilitated by the do-gooder Canadians, who refuse to see the Esks for the meance they are.  Instead, they give the Esks food, relocate them to other areas, etc.

Only one man, Dr. West (who always conjures up the Lovecraft character), knows the truth.  When no one listened to his Cassandra cry, he tried to sterilize them with a disease (last story).  The plan backfired, killing 23 actual Eskimos.  For this, he was imprisoned in the nicest cell ever, complete with a therapeutic nurse-lover.  Modern Penitentiary details West's attempts to escape, as well as his rather difficult-to-read sexual adventures.

These installments stand less and less on their own, and they become more implausible every time.  Thankfully, we've only one left. 

Two stars.

For Your Information: The Sound of the Meteors, by Willy Ley

I really dug this article, all about whether or not one can hear a meteor.  It was timely, too, as I read it right before our trip out to the desert to stargaze last weekend.

Four stars (and enjoy these pictures of Borrego Springs!)

At the Bottom of a Hole, by Larry Niven


by Hector Castellon

The latest Niven story is another set on Mars, a locale we've visited in Eye of the Octopus and How the Heroes Die.  Hole takes place a good seventy years after the last story.  A smuggler on the run from Belter cops tries to take refuge on Mars at the old base.  He finds the crew long dead, murdered when someone, or several someones, slashed their bubble.  Was it Martians?

The story also features the return of Luke Garner and Lit Schaeffer from World of Ptavvs, tying Mars to that universe.  Along with this month's A Relic of the Empire, which ties Ptavvs in with The Warriors (featuring the Kzinti) and the Beowulf Schaeffer stories set several centuries hence, it appears Niven has knit together six hundred years of future history to play in.  Fun stuff!

Four stars.

Decoy System, by Robin Scott

This is a Mack Reynoldsy thriller featuring an American agent's meeting with his Soviet counterpart.  Some third party has been sabotaging both the US and USSR's early warning systems so that they will indicate massive nuclear strikes.  Aliens are determined to be the culprit.  An era of peace and cooperation ensues.

Of course, it was all a Yankee plot.  I think I'd have liked this story if I hadn't read the premise before (and seen it as recently as The Architects of Fear).  It feels a lot like an Analog story.  Also, it's a lot of buildup for an ending that is obvious early on.

Two stars.

The Palace of Love (Part 2 of 3), by Jack Vance


by Gray Morrow

Last time, if you'll recall, I hadn't been overly enamored with Jack Vance's latest novel, a direct sequel to The Star King.  Kirth Gersen, a rich and supertalented assassin, is on the hunt for Viole Falushe, one of the "Demon Kings" of crime who murdered his parents.  The prior installment took us to Earth, where Gersen, disguised as a reporter (working for a paper he has purchased), investigates Falushe's childhood home.  Back then, he was known as Vogel Filschner.  His best friend and inspiration, before he went into kidnapping and slaving, was the poet, Garnath. 

It is the houseboat-dwelling, nigh-incomprehensible Garnath, who provides Gersen his opportunity to meet and kill Falushe.  Along the way, he becomes increasingly entangled with Garnath's ward, "Zan Zu of Eridu", who is an exact likeness of Falushe's childhood infatuation. 

The first two thirds, in which Gersen plays a cat and mouse game with Falushe, is riveting.  The final section, which sees Falushe invite Gershen to his private sanctum ("The Palace of Love") in the far reaches of space, is heavy on description but light on interest. 

Still, I'd give this section four stars.  It'll be up to the last installment to determine if the whole affair ends up on the three or four star side of the ledger.

Primary Education of the Camiroi, by R. A. Lafferty

Last up, an obtuse piece on the differences in educational policy and success between two planets.  It's supposed to be whimsical (when isn't the word applied to Lafferty?), but it's mostly tired.

Two stars.

Summing up

Finishing up at 3.1 stars, I'd say Fred Pohl has done his job to keep Galaxy on our subscription lists for another year at least.  And I do mean our — you have to count me in, too!

[Speaking of stories you and your family will enjoy, Sirena, the second book in The Kitra Saga, is out!  Fun for adults, young and old.

Buy a copy…you'll be supporting me and getting a great read at the same time!]



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[November 4, 1966] Star Trek: "Miri"

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by Gideon Marcus

Growing pains

On the trail of an old-style distress call, the Enterprise crew makes an astonishing discovery — a (cloudless) planet that looks exactly like the Earth!  Moreover, upon beaming down to the planet, Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, Yeoman Rand, and two security guards find the replication goes down to the culture, language, and architecture.  Indeed, where they land is indistinguishable from a town in the 1960s.  Mayberry, perhaps.

But one thing is missing: people.  The planet has been abandoned for three hundred years.  Well, not quite abandoned.  Skulking amongst the buildings are prepubescent children, dirty, careless, parentless.  And there are…things.  Distorted, mindless creatures that attack on sight.  But Kirk and co. find a liaison of sorts, a young teenager named Miri.  She is terrified of the adults ("grups") at first, recalling scenes of violence and arson, but Kirk wins her over with a tender manner and a dazzling smile.

The Enterprise crew quickly discovers that all of the adults were wiped out by an artificial virus (ironically created to extend life).  It has prolonged the life of the children incredibly, but any human who has reached, or is reaching, puberty, becomes one of the monsters and dies.  And all of the crew who beamed down are now infected.  It becomes a race against time — Kirk vs. the disease, and the hostile youth population.

This episode is something of a head-scratcher.  We have the revelatory opening, which ultimately serves just as an excuse to reuse the Desilu backlot. 

The setup does not work with a three hundred year timeline.  The children would be virtually unrecognizable, culturally, if they were still alive.  Surely, they would not remember adults, who would only occupy, at most, a 30th of their lifespan's memories.  Their food would not have lasted this long, either.

Yeoman Rand was along for this mission, but she didn't get to do much but repeat other people's lines and confess her attraction for Captain Kirk.  I'm not sure I like where they're going with their relationship.

And then there's the dramatic scene, where McCoy injects himself with an untested vaccine.  As it turns out Kirk convinces the children, who had stolen their communicators at a critical juncture, to give them back their talking boxes so that they can confirm the dosage and efficacy of the serum with Enterprise computers.  So while the moment is interesting in terms of character it's ultimately pointless.


A pointless act, but Kelley really sells it, I have to say.

On the other hand…

I found that the episode hangs together much better if one disregards the three hundred year timeline.  And indeed, Spock could be mistaken on that point.  Sure, they've beamed down to a place that looks like 1960, a year three centuries in the Enterprise's past, but who's to say that the two Earths followed the exact same chronology, or started at the same point.  If the children have been on their own for just, say, three years, the episode makes a lot of sense.  Then, the global descent into madness is recent enough to explain Miri's visceral fear of adults.  It explains why the kids still retain memory of their life as civilized children (and, indeed, why they ultimately decide to work with the adults). 

And it makes the behavior of the kids, which is admittedly rather annoying, much more acceptable.  These are children who watched their world end, saw their own parents try to kill them.  Leaders like Jahn helped keep them alive in that dangerous transition.  They may seem like they are enjoying a Neverland existence, free from responsibilities, but they are still children, and they miss their parents.

The original premise, that three hundred years had passed, could have been interesting, too, with the Enterprise making contact with a population of aliens in the form of children.  But that's not what writer Adrian Spies gave us.  Instead, we got an episode that fits a three-year timeline, and with that accepted, it's actually a compelling story.

Plus, we have on-location filming for the first time, and it is quite lovely.  Credit goes to Vincent McEveety for some excellent direction, too.  Musical cues seem to be a mix of cribbed and original scoring.  It's an effective soundscape.  I feel Nimoy has finally settled into the role of Spock.  The exchange with Kirk when he indicates that he "does want to go back to the ship" was compelling.

So, I think "Miri" merits three and a half stars.  It's better than "Charlie X" but worse than the three really good episodes aired thus far.

Child labor


by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)

I never seem to find child actors very convincing. Miri and Jahn were no exception, failing even to pass for teenagers, let alone children that hadn't gone through puberty yet. Beyond that, it's hard to believe that 300 year olds, even in children's bodies, would continue to act like juveniles.


13 years old?!

Despite that, the music and pacing really saved this episode. The music brought complexity to each moment, and thanks to excellent direction, even though the far too Earth-like planet made for an odd setting, each scene moved the story along convincingly. There was enough suspense that the situation felt more dire and desperate as the disease progressed. We all knew what the Doctor was going to do as soon as Spock left the room, but the music made the decision come to life.

I’m really looking forward to the episode where they get it all right because music and pacing don’t make a show. Star Trek has so much potential, but this episode falls well short of that.

3 Stars

Bang! Zoom! Right in the kisser!


by Janice L. Newman

“Miri” was a lackluster episode in many ways. But one thing did stand out to me, especially as I thought about it afterward: Kirk never punishes the children.

Twice he is attacked by the children, and we do see him twice throw one child off his perch on a desk and to the ground. But other than that, we do not see Kirk raise a hand against his juvenile attackers. He never uses violence to establish dominance over them or force them to do what he wants. Instead, he explains the situation to them, pleads with them – and shows them the same respect he would adults. He treats them as though they are capable of reason and empathy. And in the end, they are.

I usually catch the last few minutes of the cartoon version of The Lone Ranger when I tune in to Mission Impossible. The end of last week’s Lone Ranger episode had him capturing the villain, who I think was meant to be some sort of boy who never grew up, and giving him a spanking before sending him to jail. It’s clearly supposed to be a ‘funny’ moment.

In “Miri”, whether one accepts the episode’s timeline of 300 years or the Traveler’s more plausible three, the child characters are obviously meant to have the minds of children. They behave ‘badly’, mocking the Enterprise crew, stealing their communicators, kidnapping Yeoman Rand, and even attacking the captain.

It wouldn’t have surprised me if Star Trek followed a similar path to The Lone Ranger, showing the children getting punished, perhaps even spanked. The fact that the show did not take this easy way out, the fact that the futuristic society it portrays values diplomacy and reason over coercion and punishment, is something that I find tremendously heartening. I can only hope that in our future we really will learn to raise our children with respect and without violence.

Two and a half stars: two for the episode, and an extra half for the hopeful message.

Child Vampires Without the Blood


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

It’s the time of year for spooky stories and while Miri wasn’t pure horror, it had its fair share of unsettling moments: chanting children, violence in familiar settings, prosthetics designed to look like symptoms of Hansen's disease.

Horror, like science fiction, gives us a lens through which to view our own world.  In most horror, creators draw from what they think their audiences are afraid of: in this case, unruly children, certain forms of disease, and growing old. As set-dressing, they can also pull ideas from the news or culture: a headline about the 1963 measles vaccine that prolonged millions of children’s lives might inspire a writer to write a story such as Miri, twining together the wonders and the potential failures of mass vaccination.

Other creators have used the fears listed above to craft stories about vampires: immortal, living outside of the bounds of human society, violent, and mercurial. With different make-up and set-dressings, this episode could have taken place in a European castle or Soviet forest, with its hidden and chanting hordes of unaging, feral children, lost to time and civilization.

But this is Star Trek, not Blood Bath, The Blood Drinkers, Queen of Blood, Dracula: Prince of Darkness, The Empire of Dracula, Billy the Kid vs. Dracula, or any of the other vampire-focused horror films of the year (although, if Christopher Lee would be willing to make an appearance in a future episode, I am sure we would all welcome it). Rather than capes and coffins, we have tricorders and transporters, communicators and vaccines-on-demand. But the anxieties being addressed are still the same, and the episode gives the audience a chance to walk through our fears, reaching a satisfying conclusion.

Unlike much of the popular horror released this year, that conclusion did not involve buckets of blood; as Janice wisely notes, instead we got a hopeful vision of non-violence towards children, along with a diplomatic and science-driven solution to a centuries-long crisis. Endings like this are one of the reasons I often prefer science fiction flavored with horror over horror flavored with science fiction: I like the chance to live in Captain Kirk’s bright, utopian future each Thursday evening as the fall grows cooler and the shadows grow long.

(I can always catch Mr Lee’s latest flick if I find myself with an unholy craving.)

Happy Halloween!

Four stars.



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[October 31, 1966] Respite from the horror (November 1966 Analog Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Boo!

It's a scary world out there.  If ever there was an appropriate time to be reminded of it, it's today, Halloween.  These days, it's not the supernatural or the spooky that frightens the bejeezus out of us (though UFO sightings are at a record high).  No, it's real-world issues like the ongoing, escalating war in Vietnam.  Thousands of our boys have died over there, and there's no end in sight.  The other day, Stokely Carmichael, head of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, said he had no intention of fighting were he to be drafted.  He's currently living with the Sword of Damocles of his latest physical fitness exam — will he be judged fit for duty?  Is prison preferable to serving in an unjust war?

There are fears on the domestic front, too.  Grocery prices have spiraled to ridiculous levels, and an organized army of housewives has picketed the stores in at least 15 cities across America.  Can they effect change before basic foods get too expensive too afford?

I think all of this existential dread is why folks turn to fiction.  I've now had several fans of my Kitra series note their appreciation that, while they find Kitra's adventures riveting, they take comfort in knowing that she and her crew will come out safe in the end.  It's a reassurance they aren't finding in real life

I felt similarly reading the latest issue of Analog.  Sometimes science fiction paints grim futures, even seeming to relish in the despondence of the characters who inhabit them (q.v. Harrison's overpopulation nightmare, Make Room!  Make Room!).  Such works are important.  Cautionary tales are important.  They show us potentialities to avoid.  They challenge us to think.  But sometimes, you just want an interesting story where you know things will all work out.  Analog's editor John Campbell has given us two quite good ones this month (and some other stuff).


by Kelly Freas

Yay!

Quarantine World, by Murray Leinster


by Kelly Freas

Dr. Calhoun of the Med Service has reason to be suspicious.  The planet Lanke is ostensibly perfectly healthy, yet the government is going out of its way to hide something from him.  Moreover, Lanke's politicians are keenly interested in the public health specifically for its insuring the bottom line of their economy.  It is thus with appropriate shock to all concerned that a plague-infested person, obviously an off-worlder, crashes Calhoun's reception.  More shocking — the Lanke government insists Calhoun have nothing to do with the individual, who is shot by the authorities.  When he performs a cursory examination of the corpse, he is summarily ejected from the planet.

Whereupon he contracts the deadly disease, and his trusty tormal, the antibodies-producing cat/monkey called Murgatroyd, is unable to synthesize a cure!  Calhoun's only clue (and hope!) is the existence of a failed colony on the nearby planet of Delhi.  Perhaps there he can solve the mystery of his illness before he…and the population of Linke…succumbs to it.

Murray Leinster is often called the dean of science fiction.  He's been writing for decades, and sadly, the tape is starting to wear a little thin.  He pads out his work a lot, and his characters mostly sound alike.  There is a strange, juvenile character to his writing that feels out of place in Analog.  Honestly, it may be less a matter of literary senility, and more that of bilking an extra hundred bucks from Campbell for the extra verbiage; writers are paid by the word, after all.

But.

It's a good story, highlighting several interesting social issues (capitalism uber alles, the treatment of criminals and political dissidents, the role of medicine).  It's a great universe, one I've drawn inspiration from for my Kitra books.  And Murgatroyd is an absolute joy to read about. 

So, three stars. 

Facts to Fit the Theory, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

The human colony of Cyrene IV is about to be invaded by the rapacious Stath.  Yet the Cyrenicans refuse to join the Terran Federation, which would protect them under the auspices of a non-aggression pact with the Stath.  All attempts to coerce an application to the Federation are thwarted by increasingly improbable events, all of which point to some kind of religio-psychic interference on the part of the colonists.

Then the Stath arrive.  Their attemps to be mean and nasty are also countered by freak occurrences, up to and including a planetary hurricane.  They leave, tail between their legs.  The human military officers are admonished to write up a full report, but to explain the chronology without invoking ESP.

Could there be a more archetypical Chris Anvil Analog story? 

  • Tongue-in-cheek?  Check.
  • Humans come out ahead?  Check.
  • Prominent figuring of psionics?  Check.
  • Authorities are stupid for not acknowleding the existence of psionics?  Check.
  • The Traveler sick of stories like this?  Check and Check.

Two stars because it's readable, but please, no more.  I beg you.

Dimensions, Anyone?, by John D. Clark, Ph.D.

A fascinating if abstruse piece from Dr. Clark.  It's about the importance of a matching set of physical dimensions for rendering useful measurements.  Forget the "English" system, and even the metric system isn't truly universal.  Clark offers up one of his own, while describing the history of the ones we currently use. 

Much denser than Asimov's stuff, but it was in my wheelhouse.  Four stars.

Letter from a Higher Critic, by Stewart Robb


by Kelly Freas

In which folks in the 22nd Century, having lost most historical sources of the 19th and 20th Century, deem that World War 2 is too improbable to have occurred as recounted.  The primary objection is that the names of all of the major players, from Roosevelt to Churchill to Adolph Hitler to Stalin, are too on-the-nose to represent real people. 

Very slight stuff.  Blink and you'll miss it.  Read and you'll forget it.

Two stars.

Too Many Magicians (Part 4 of 4), by Randall Garrett


by John Schoenherr

And now we come to the end, both of the magazine, and of this most promising murder mystery serial from Randall Garrett.  Good luck putting it down — it is a rollercoaster from the opening sequence, in which Lord D'Arcy has just dived into the Thames to rescue a bewitched woman, to the final scene, in which Chief Investigator for the Duke of Normandy identifies the culprit from among nine suspects.

It's a well-drawn whodunnit, weakened only by its separation into four parts (which the assured novelization will fix).  The solution is plausible and (mostly) independently deducible.  The guilty party makes sense.  I appreciated the quantum mechanics element of the case, too; it is impossible to observe matters without affecting them.  It makes this particular Lord D'arcy case quite dynamic.  I also noted the homage to Twelve Angry Men in one scene.

Garrett has gotten much better at handling woman characters: Mary, Dowager Duchess of Cumberland, and Demoiselle Tia Einzig are nicely realized and pivotal players.  Hard to believe this is the same fellow who wrote Queen Bee.  For the same magazine!

So, five stars for this segment, four and a half for the story as a whole, and I won't be surprised if this gets a Hugo nod in New York next year!

Summing up: Two tricks and three treats

Setting aside the Anvil and the Robb, Analog really delivered the goods this month, providing a bubble of reassuring entertainment in a frightening era.  Clocking in at 3.4 stars, it surpasses or ties with the other magazines this month except for the exceptional Science-Fantasy/Impulse (3.7 stars). 

Technically, Fantastic (3.5 stars) was also better, but given that it was largely reprints, I don't know that it's a fair comparison.  Of the all-new material mags, the order goes Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.4), New Worlds (3.1), IF (3), and Worlds of Tomorrow (2.3).

It was actually a great month for fiction.  One could fill three whole magazines with all the four and five star stuff.  Sadly, there was not a single woman-penned piece of fiction published in a pro mag with a November 1966 date. 

And with that, the unpleasant real world intrudes again.  Ah well.  I managed to avoid it for most of an article.  Maybe next month will bring happier news on this front.

[Actually, there's happier news right now!  Sirena, the second book in The Kitra Saga, has been a smash hit, and I think you'll dig it, too.  Buy a copy…you'll be supporting me and getting a great read at the same time!]



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[October 22, 1966] Why Johnny Should Read (November 1966 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Tune out, turn off, drop in

Lately, the Journey's been fairly taken over by the boob tube.  These days, it seems all we do is cover Star Trek, Doctor Who, Raumpatrouille Orion, and like that.

Don't get me wrong — I like these shows, and our circulation numbers show you do too.  But let us not forget that science fiction began as a literary tradition, and those lovely monthly magazines crammed with speculative morsels are still with us.  Sometimes it's great to unplug from the clamor of the idiot box, curl up in a sunbeam, and read some great STF.

Thankfully, there's a lot of great stuff in the latest issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction…

Under the cover


by Bert Tanner

The Manor of Roses, by Thomas Burnett Swann

This is one of the few times (the first?) that an American magazine has been graced with Mr. Swann's work.  Normally, he spins modern retellings of mythological tales for the British mags.  But oh are we glad to have him here!

The Manor of Roses, set in King John's England, is the story of two adoptive brothers.  John is of gentle Norman birth; his inseparable villein companion, Stephen, comes from the stock of Saxon nobles.  Together, they steal away from their homes hoping to join in a latter Crusade in the Holy Land.

In a crypt they find along the way, they discover what appears to be an angel.  The beautiful young thing lies in repose, clutching a cross, professing to have lost her memories.  Stephen names her Ruth and takes her for an omen of good fortune, beseeching her to join their party.

Their expedition soon runs afoul of a community of Mandrakes, the one fantastical element in this richly drawn historical portrait.  These humaniform beings look like people after hatching, but soon grow hairy and woody.  Hunted for their bodies, which are rumored to make powerful aphrodisiacs, they are understandably hostile to humans.  Nevertheless, they are Christian, after a fashion, and Ruth secures the freedom of their party by bartering her cross.

Whereupon we come to the Manor of Roses and encounter the true narrator of the story, as well as the truth about Ruth.  I shall say no more of the plot.

As for the story, it is a beautiful thing, both engaging and educating.  Swann has such a subtle flow to his writing.  Indeed, I struggle to explain why I "only" give this story four stars instead of five. 

You may well not restrain yourself as I have.  Either way, it's fine reading and bravo, Mr. Swann.


by Gahan Wilson

The Best Is Yet to Be, by Bryce Walton

Retirement homes are a growing phenomenon these days.  Who wouldn't like to live out their sunset years in coddled comfort?  But what if the gilded cage is too suffocating?  And what is the value of secure longevity if one can't be with one's lifelong love?

Walton (who has been writing since the mid-forties) offers up a resonantly emotional story of a man who must live on his own terms, even if it means discarding all of his safety nets.

The sting in the story's tale is neither positive nor negative.  I think it could have been more adroitly done so as to cast doubt on the reality of all that transpires in the piece.  But it also could have been more heavy-handed, destroying the raw joy of the escapee's journey.

So I call the story a memorable four stars, and (unlike with the Swann) fully cognizant of how it might have gotten to five.

Heir Apparent, by Ed M. Clinton, Jr.

Here's a strange throwback of a story.  Fellow on Alpha Centauri writes to his (presumed) fiancee, describing how a tremendous genetic discovery made by his father means that he can no longer see her again. 

For there are people on Alpha Centauri.  Well, mostly.  Homo similis centauri is essentially human but lacking the frontal lobe.  Said father archaeologist begins rather scandalous attempts at cross-breeding, ultimately producing a viable being.  Surprise, surprise (not really), that offspring is the narrator.

It all reads like the Lovecraft stories where the storyteller discovers that he is really a fish-man or something and goes insane.  Clinton doesn't have his protagonist go crazy, exactly, but the result is much the same.

I dunno.  It didn't do it for me.  Two stars.

Earth Tremor Detection, by Theodore L. Thomas

Thomas, in his "science" article, makes the rather broad leap from seismometers that can tell the signature of a Russkie H-bomb test to delicate acoustic sensors that can tell a person from one's distinctive walking pattern.

Seems like a stretch, Ted.  Two stars.

A Friend to Alexander, by James Thurber

The one reprint of the issue, this is my first encounter with the prolific Mr. Thurber.  A fellow has nightmares about watching Aaron Burr goad Alexander Hamilton into a duel, ultimately killing him.  Then, in sleep, the dreamer becomes Burr's target of harrying.

It's well told, but the ending offers no surprises.  Perhaps there were no surprises to be had in the forties?

Three stars.

Neutral Ground, by Norman Spinrad

Welcome back, Mr. Spinrad!  In this tale, astronauts range unknown worlds not with the help of rockets and space suits, but with drug-enhanced clairvoyance.  Neutral Ground details the encounters one particular psychonaut has with a dreadful alien presence that gets closer with every mission.  Our hero is torn between fear of the inchoate threat and the desire to learn what it is. 

I found this story particularly interesting as the plot is somewhat similar to one of mine called Clairvoyage (though, of course, there is no chance of cross-pollination).  I liked it, though I found the end perhaps a touch pat.

Still, a memorable four star story.

Old Man River, by Isaac Asimov

Dr. A is at it with his lists again, this time describing the longest rivers — and just what length means in a riparian context.  I usually find The Good Doctor's list articles to be his lesser ones, but this one made me rethink how I approach geography, one of my favorite subjects.

Four stars.

The Devil and Democracy, by Brian Cleeve

Last up, a novelette featuring Old Nick.  Seems the demons are on strike.  Shoulder to shoulder with the damned souls, they refuse to let any new entrees into the underworld until their demands are met.  Mephistopheles hatches a plan to bust the strike, but it'll take a Hell of a lot of cleverness to see it through.

I tend to like Satanic stories, but this one is not as clever as it thinks it is.  Weighing the piece's pros and cons against each other, they come out fairly balanced.  So, three stars.

Closing the Book

All in all, the November F&SF is a somewhat uneven, but ultimately rewarding experience.  Moreover, for just four bits (cheaper than most mags these days), I obtained several hours of speculative entertainment.  Compared to the flickering wares of the television, which even at their best are alloyed with vapid commercials, I think magazines still hold their own.

There's still plenty of new left in the old medium!


by Bert Tanner

[Speaking of new works in print, there is now a new installment in The Kitra Saga!  Sirena has been a smash hit, and I think you'll dig it, too.  Buy a copy…you'll be supporting me and getting a great read at the same time!]



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[September 22, 1966] True Idols (the Isaac Asimov issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

The Good Doctor

If generations are measured in 20 year spans, then science fiction is entering its third generation.  It all started with Weird Tales, Amazing Stories, and the other more speculative pulps of the mid 1920s.  By the 40s, we were in what folks are calling the "Golden Age", when Astounding ruled the roost.  Since then, we've had what I'd call the "Silver Age" (or perhaps the "Digest Age" or the "Galactic Age") and are just starting one called the "New Wave".

The pulp age is now so long ago that we've already lost some of its more prominent writers: Doc Smith passed away last year, Ray Cummings was gone by 1957, Robert Howard and H.P. Lovecraft didn't make it out of the 1930s.  Others are still alive and well…and still active: Murray Leinster, Jack Williamson, Edmond Hamilton, Clifford Simak, Frank Bellknap Long, Hugo Gernsback.

The Golden Age spawned a new crop of greats, from Leigh Brackett to John W. Campbell, jr.  And there may be no author of that era of bigger stature, greater prolificity, not to mention bottom line, than Isaac Asimov.

One can say a lot about Isaac.  Garrulous, idiosyncratic, a workaholic, too pushy with his "harmless" romantic advances.  But also brilliant, thoughtful, charming (at least in print).  Love him or hate him, there's no question that he's left his mark on the field — from Nightfall, to I, Robot, to Foundation.  For twenty years, Asimov turned out SF stories with incredible reliability.  Then, with the launch of Sputnik, he turned his pen mostly to science fact.  He's found a permanent home at The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, to that publication's credit.  Asimov also churns out a flood of science books for the mass market.  There's really no category of the Dewey Decimal System this fellow hasn't touched upon.  He's an inspiration (a cautionary tale?) to us all.

So it was perhaps inevitable that F&SF would devote an issue to this titan of the genre.  If you can get past the over-the-top cover — but it's nice to see EMSH back — then a decent mag awaits.  Especially at 50 cents, which is cheap these days for a digest.

The Man Behind the Curtain


by Ed Emshwiller

The Key, by Isaac Asimov

First up is Asimov's first new SF story of significant length in quite some time.  Two geologists stumble upon an alien artifact during a selenological expedition.  Its ramifications for humanity are profound, so much so that the two have a lethal brawl.  One escapes to hide the artifact before dying.

He leaves this clue:

It's up to Wendell Urth, the agoraphobe protagonist of several F&SF stories from the mid 1950s, to crack the case.

The beginning is pretty gripping, and I'm happy to say I got some of the clues.  But it boils down to a rather abstruse puzzle with a bit too much punning for my taste.

Three stars.

You Can't Beat Brains, by L. Sprague de Camp

Sprague's short bio of his friend, Isaac, is not entirely flattering, but it does spotlight Asimov's undoubtedly prodigious intellect.

Three stars.

Isaac Asimov: A Bibliography, by Isaac Asimov

If you ever wanted to know what Asimov has been up to (besides chasing skirts) for the last thirty years, this is a good ledger.  25 science fiction books (two of which the Journey has covered), three pages of short stories, three more pages of non-fiction articles (most of which the Journey has covered), and 30+ nonfiction books.

Whereas I've got just two books and four stories (and a thousand non-fiction articles) to my credit.  Ah well.  I'm still young.

Portrait of the Writer as a Boy, by Isaac Asimov

For this month's non-fiction article, Asimov takes on his favorite subject — himself!  Actually, I appreciated this glimpse into the world of science fiction reading and writing in the late 30s.  It's an era I missed, despite having been born just a few months before Asimov (not having gotten into STF in a big way until ~1950).  Perhaps he'll some day use this article as a nucleus for an autobiography.  He's written everything else.

Four stars.

The Prime of Life, by Isaac Asimov

Here's a mildly diverting poem about being a legend in his own time, but too young yet to be taken seriously.

Three stars.


by Gahan Wilson

The Mirror, by Arthur Porges

You didn't think it was going to be all about Asimov, did you?  Sure, he did, but you?

Mr. Porges offers up a paint-by-numbers piece of macabre about an old mansion with a spooky looking glass over the mantle.  The setup and the telling were quite good, but the ending was second-tier early days FSF — or maybe even earlier pulp.

Three stars.

Come Back Elena, by Vic Chapman

The science fictional notion of storing memories in a computer and then inserting them into an android or biological blank slate has been around a while.  This latest take from a new author starts quite promisingly.  A grieving husband finds his wife's doppleganger a decade after the wife's death.  She agrees to contribute sufficient biological material such that he can quick grow a new body as a vessel for her stored memories.  But, of course, All Does Not Go Well.

There's a novel's worth of premise to explore here: is it murder to displace the personality of a human being, even one that has been alive for just a few days?  Is the resulting person a new persona or a ressurrection of the old?  What are the legal ramifications, for the subject and the experimenter?

Chapman avoids all of these, instead turning in a rather humdrum "shock" ending.  It's a pity because the first half is quite strong.

Three stars.

Something in It, by Robert Louis Stevenson

Vignette on the immovable faith of a missionary encountering the irresistible force of an indigene's religion. 

Blink and you'll miss it.  Three stars.

The Picture Window, by Jon DeCles

"There's nothing new under the Sun."  So complains an industrialist to his artist friend.  Or should I say "former" friend as the dam the capitalist has erected is flooding out the beloved valley the painter has made his home.  The artist bets his ex-buddy $50,000 that he can make a truly new piece of art.

What he creates is…well, you be the judge.

Jon (he's a friend, so I call him Jon, even though that's not his actual name) has created a story that is, in execution, something of the opposite to Chapman's and Porges'.  It starts out a bit rocky, all shouty dialogue, but the latter half is memorable.

I'll take a good ending over a good beginning.  Four stars.

Burning Question, by Brian W. Aldiss

Speaking of memorable, here's a story snatched right from the front page.  An inhabited world far from Earth is soon to be a way station to the stars in a galactic continuation of the Cold War.  The indigenes have decided they would rather immolate themselves in protest than tolerate our base.  One sympathetic colonel's attempts to sway the American authorities to give in to native demands just this once fall on deaf ears.

There's some good philosophical stuff in here, and maybe some lessons for Lyndon.  Four stars.

An Extraordinary Child, by Sally Daniell

Lastly, a piece by another newcomer.  This one involves a child with a handicap of the mind.  He is brilliant, but tuned to another wavelength — one that allows him to see the little people.  Only these brownies/faeries/elves all speak like Beatniks, and they have murder on their mind.

Our Esteemed Editor has noted that woman authors are far more likely to have children featured in their stories.  I had high hopes for this one, a well-written piece portraying a sympathetic child with a mental aberration.  Unfortunately, it settles for cheap thrills rather than profound statements.

Three stars.  Maybe next time.

What's Up, Doc?

All told, this Asimovian issue is not one for the ages.  Part of the problem is the two newcomers are not stellar, and Asimov is a bit rusty.  That leaves just a couple of veterans to contribute comparatively good stories, and an old grognard to turn in…a typically unimpressive piece.

Perhaps Isaac deserves better than this.  Or perhaps, like a revue show featuring an over-the-hill performer, it's exactly what one would expect.

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