All posts by Gideon Marcus

Science / Space Race

[Oct. 5, 1960] Point-to-point (Courier, the first active communications satellite)

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How do you talk to someone on the other side of the planet?

At the dawn of civilization, one might dispatch messengers via horseback (or fast runner in the Western Hemisphere, horses being unknown until the Conquistadores came).  That might take months or even years.  Smoke signals and heliographs were a little better, but they still were limited to line of sight transmission. 

The telegraph was a revolution.  Now, messages could travel from point to point at the speed of light.  A few decades later, telephones enabled live conversations at great distance.  Radio broadcasts shrunk the world further, broadcasting messages wirelessly throughout the globe.

But neither the telephone nor radio are perfect solutions to the presented problem.  With telephones, both parties need to be physically connected to each other.  Radio is notoriously unreliable at great distances.  Things are worse if you're in the military–neither phones nor the wireless are secure: wires can be tapped, and radio is broadcast in the clear.

What you really want is a tight-beam radio broadcast, one that could be directed at any recipient without need for wires.  But for that, you'd need a series of repeating towers that provide service anywhere on Earth.  That's a tall order.  Not only is it expensive, but pesky oceans get in the way.  You could get away with fewer towers if they were tall enough, but how do you construct a 100-mile high repeating tower?

Easy.  You build just the top of the tower–and launch it into orbit, where it can be overhead indefinitely.  And that's just what the U.S. Army Signal Corps did yesterday (October 4) with its brand-new communications satellite, aptly dubbed "Courier." 

Courier is a revolution.  Where Project Score, launched two years ago, merely sent a pre-recorded message, and NASA's recent Project Echo only reflects signals off of its balloon surface, Courier is an "active repeater."  This means it can receive messages from a transmitter, then wait until the recipient is in sight to deliver them.  It's secure…and fast.  Courier can relay 68,000 words per minute, enough to send an entire King James Bible in 11 minutes!  And all one needs is a receiver that can hear the frequencies on which Courier transmits.

Yesterday's launch was actually the second time the Army tried to launch a Courier; the first attempt on August 18 ended prematurely thanks to a balky Thor Able-Star booster.  But the current mission is a complete success; the 500 pound, 51-inch wide sphere has already been used to send a message from the President (at Fort Monmouth, New Jersey) to Secretary of State Christian A. Herter (at the United Nations, by way of Salinas, Puerto Rico). 

We've come a long way in the three years since Sputniks, with triumphs ranging from moon probes to weather satellites to space dogs.  The next three years will be even more exciting: manned orbital shots, probes to Venus and Mars, space telescopes, commercial communications satellites…and who knows what else!

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Magazine

[Oct. 2, 1960] Second-rate fun (November 1960 IF Science Fiction)

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Galaxy's little sister, IF Science Fiction has settled into a predictable format.  Filled with a number of "B" authors, mostly neophytes, it generally leads with a decent novelette, and the rest of the stories are two and three-star affairs.  I don't think the blame can be put on IF's shadow editor, Fred Pohl (Horace Gold is all but retired these days, I understand).  Rather, this is about the best quality one can expect for a penny a word. 

That said, the stories in IF are rarely offensively bad, and perhaps some day, one of these novices learning the ropes of writing in the minor leagues will surprise us with a masterpiece.

Preamble out of the way, let's take a look at the November 1960 issue:

Jim Harmon is actually quite the veteran, and he has a knack for interesting, off-beat writing.  His novelette, Mindsnake, depicts a future where interstellar teleportation is possible, but fraught with risk.  Only the Companions, colloquially known (and disparaged) as Witches, can keep a traveller's mind intact over the long journey.  Good stuff, and original.  Four stars.

Then we have the short Superjoemulloy by unknown Scott F. Grenville.  How can the most powerful man challenge himself?  By creating a superior version of himself, of course.  Three stars.

Now, I was a bit dismayed to find Daniel Keyes in the Table of Contents.  Whenever I see a "big name" in IF (and there is no question that Keyes is a big name: he won the Hugo this year for Flowers for Algernon), the story is usually a second-rater.  Sure enough, The Quality of Mercy, which clunkily mixes sentient computers with organ transplants and mandated euthanasia, is a bit of a talky mess.  Two stars.

R.A. Lafferty is a fellow who may surprise us some day.  He seems to be enjoying an upward trajectory with his stories, not just in quality but in venue.  McGonigal's Worm, in which every animal on Earth loses the ability to breed, is sort of a poor man's Brain Wave.  Read it, and you'll see what I mean.  Three stars.

Esidarap ot Pirt Dnuor is an engaging little tale of tourism in a rather backward place, brought to us by Lloyd Biggle, Jr, who spends much of his time appearing in Fantastic.  I liked it, but I'm afraid I didn't get the final joke–an Un-Prize to anyone who can explain it to me.  Three stars.

I was gratified to find that, per his book review column, Fred Pohl liked much the same stories in Aldiss' Galaxies like Grains of Sand as I did.  On the other hand, he liked Dickson's Dorsai! far more than me.  Perhaps the novelization (titled The Genetic General) is better than the serial.

William Stuart is back with another well-written story that doesn't quite hit the mark.  Don't think about it is a low-grade F&SF-style tale that takes too long to get to its kicker, and whose kicker lacks kick.  Three stars.

That brings us to Frank Herbert's Egg and Ashes, told from the point of view of a charming if horrifying little symbiote (parasite?) I felt like the beginning was better than the ending, but I do like the way Herbert turns a phrase.  Three stars.

The issue ends with The Impersonator, the third story ever published by Robert Wicks.  In the midling future, the Earth is threatened by an impending Ice Age thanks to humanity's rapacious exploitation of the planet's resources.  A host of outrageous plans are developed to fix the problem: from salting ice fields with carbon dust, to altering the axial tilt of the planet, to tapping the heat from the Earth's core.  It's not a great story, but I liked Wicks' satirical presentation of "doubling down" in an attempt to thwart catastrophe.  Three stars.

As you can see, this isn't the best crop of stories.  On the other hand, minor league games draw crowds, too.  And the tickets are cheaper….

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Science / Space Race

[Sep. 30, 1960] Discoverer 15 and a preview for October

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It's the end of the month, and that means a sneak preview at what's in store next month on the Journey.  There is also a bit of space news I missed.  Things are now moving fast enough in the world of rockets that it's easy to fall behind!

For those following along at home, here's what's coming out in October.  Items that I plan to review are listed in bold:

Magazines:

October 1960 IF Science Fiction

October 1960 Analog

October 1960 Fantasy and Science Fiction

October 1960 Amazing

October 1960 Fantastic

Books:

Starfire, Robert Buckner

Men into Space, Murray Leinster

Movies:

I aim at the Stars

Television:

The Twilight Zone

The Flintstones

2nd, 3rd, and 4th Presidential Debates

Conventions:

Geek Girl Con

Here's a recap of this month's digests and how they fared against each other:

F&SF was the clear winner at 3.75 stars.  Both Galaxy and Analog trailed far behind, both at 2.75 stars.  F&SF also had my favorite story: From Shadowed Places.  There were 23 authors across the three books; two of them were women.

Now for the Space News:

Looking back through my newspapers, I see that the Air Force got off another Discoverer on September 13.  This fifteenth in the series of capsule-return spacecraft was the third success in a row.  Like its predecessors, it was launched into a polar orbit (as opposed to the East-West orbits used for civilian shots), with an apogee of 787 km and a perigee of 217 km.  17 orbits later, the capsule began its reentry somewhere over Alaska.  Though the airplanes deployed to recover the capsule did not manage to catch it in mid-air, the probe was later found drifting in the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Christmas Island.

Now here's the interesting part.  The capsule carried no biological payload (as usual), but it did carry instruments being "tested for later reconnaissance satellites," namely MIDAS, the missile-launch detector, and SAMOS, the official Air Force spy sat program.  This is the first time the Air Force has admitted what I've suspected all along–that Discoverer is really a testbed spy sat.  One of the articles I read went on to say that the capsules will be carrying monkeys sometime soon.  Don't hold your breath.  Discoverer never had anything to do with the manned space program.

Thus ends September.  Here's looking at a busy October!

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Fashion, music, politics, sports

[Sep. 28, 1960] Face to Face (the first Presidential debates)

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What an immediate world we live in.  Think about life six hundred years ago, before the printing press, when news and knowledge were communicated as fast as a person could talk, as fast as a horse could trot.  Think about life two hundred years ago, before the telegraph knit our nation together with messages traveling at the speed of light.  Think about the profound effects movies, radio, and television have had on society.  With each advancement, the globe has shrunk.  One can now hear broadcasts in virtually any language from the comfort of one's home.  One can get news as it happens from the other side of the planet. 

And, for the first time, the American people can, through our representatives in the media, have a direct conversation with our presidential candidates.  For yesterday, thanks to the marvel of modern television, Senator Kennedy and Vice President Nixon were able to discuss matters of national urgency in the first-ever televised presidential debate, on September 26.

I can't stress enough how exciting the experience was for me, as I imagine it was for you.  For the first time, the candidates felt like people.  Their platforms were clearly articulated.  By the end of the event, I had a much clearer idea of what my choices would be come November.

It was an interesting contest, and I think both candidates acquitted themselves well.  Kennedy began the event rather stiffly, but by the midpoint, he had hit a fiery, engaging stride.  Nixon affected a rather deferential mien, which surprised me.  As a result, he came off as a gentleman, but a bit complacent.  He also seemed, at times, to struggle for words.  Not often, but it suggested a touch of exhaustion.  I shouldn't be surprised, given the man's campaigning schedule.

As for the substance of their remarks, during this hour-long debate specifically on domestic matters, I took four pages of hastily scrawled notes.  I'll try to digest them into something short and cogent.

The candidates were given eight minutes for opening speeches.  Kennedy led off, linking freedom with economic prosperity.  So long as the world remains half slave and half free (paraphrasing a famous Republican, how the times have changed), the way for freedom to endure is for economic progress to be made.  He touted the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) as a model for future, government-led success.  He acknowledged the moderate prosperity of the post-War era, but charged that we must do better, that we can do better.  Interestingly, this is the only time that either of them addressed the strong racial inequality in our country.  Nixon was conspicuously silent on the issue–perhaps he hopes to wrest the South from Democratic control.

Nixon, unlike Kennedy, used the full span of time allotted for the opening speech.  For the first half, he was strikingly defensive.  America was not standing still, he said, a tone of desperation creeping into his voice, and a sheen of sweat on his chin.  The Vice President fared better as he shifted to propounding his own agenda.  He maintained that the Republicans know the secret to progress, and that the Eisenhower era was far more successful than the Truman era.  He ended his comments with a dig against Kennedy: "I know what it means to be poor."  This is true, but so long as the Republican party is the party of big business, I don't think it matters.

Then a panel of four reporters presented a series of questions to the candidates.  Three of the ten dealt with whether or not Kennedy and Nixon were qualified to be President.  In Kennedy's case, the issue was age, to which Kennedy replied that he and Nixon had both been in governmental service since 1947.  The Senator also noted that Lincoln (again!) had the shortest of political resumes and yet was one of our greatest Presidents.  For Nixon, the issue was eight years of ineffectiveness.  Had he done anything memorable as Vice President?  Nixon said he had; Kennedy disputed Nixon's claimed accomplishments.  It was pretty damning that Eisenhower, himself, said he needed a week to recall a major Nixon accomplishment–and he turned up empty a week later.

Things got more interesting, for me, when substantive policy issues were addressed.  Regarding ongoing farm subsidies, Kennedy insisted that they were necessary given the volatile nature of the agriculture business, the relative weakness of the farmer in his market, and the importance of the food production sector.  Nixon agreed that subsidies must continue while the wartime surpluses remain, but that the farmer must ultimately be weaned off the government teat.

In response to a question regarding the national debt, Kennedy asserted that the debt could not be reduced before 1963, but that his expanded programs would be paid for by the growing economy they would guarantee.  Nixon noted that the government would have to front payment for the programs before it came back as taxes, and he insisted that Kennedy's programs were too "extreme."  The only way to pay for them would be to raise taxes or go into inflation-causing debt, both of which would hurt the American people.

Perhaps the subtlest issue of the debate was teachers' salaries.  Both came out in favor of it.  But Nixon has a record of voting against it.  The Vice President says he worries that involvement of the federal government will reduce the freedom the teachers have to instruct as they wish.  Kennedy dismissed this argument noting that the bill he supported in February of this year had no such strings attached–the federal government would simply give money to the states, which would then spend it as they saw fit.  Nixon noted, however, that this would incentivize the states to simply diminish their contribution to education in an amount equal to what the federal government provided.  Interesting points.

The highest drama ensued when Kennedy was asked if he would be more effective as a President in getting bills passed than as a Senator.  Kennedy noted that he had no trouble getting his proposals passed in his legislative chamber; it was the obstinate Republicans in the House and in the White House that blocked them.  With him as President, his policies would be effected.  Nixon, rather unconvincingly, said it was not Eisenhower's veto that blocked Kennedy, but the will of the people that veto represented. 

The spirited debate continued into the next question, regarding Nixon's ability to lead.  The Vice President rather bashfully averred that whomever the people voted for would be an effective President–but the people wouldn't support someone who espoused extreme measures.

Kennedy countered forcefully that a $1.25 minimum wage was not extreme, that medical insurance for those over 65 was not extreme, and that federal support of education was not extreme.  And should he be elected, he implied, those measures will pass. 

The last question addressed the issue of domestic Communism.  Both candidates expressed their concern over the problem, but it was pretty clear that neither of them were too worried about it.  Kennedy noted that the primary threat was external Communism.  Nixon urged that we must be "fair" to our people when combating domestic Communism, lest we become too like our repressive enemies.  Given Nixon's strong role in the anti-Communist movement a decade ago, this note rang a bit false.

At this point, the candidates were given three minutes to sum up.  Nixon stressed that the Soviet Union may be growing faster than the United States, but that's just because they are so much further behind.  In 1960, as in 1940, the Soviet Union has just 44% of America's Gross National Product.  And while he and Kennedy agreed on general goals, their means were different.  I couldn't quite parse out what Nixon's means would be–only what they would not be (i.e. increased federal spending).

Kennedy ended on the offensive.  He said he did not want America to sit idly while the Soviet Union closed the economic gap.  The Senator said that, if we are happy with the nation as it is, by all means, we should vote for Nixon.  But if we're the least bit dissatisfied (and who is ever completely satisfied?), we must vote Democratic.  Because America is "ready to move," and Kennedy can get us moving.

The debate had a paradoxical effect upon me as a voter.  I was (and am) predisposed to poll Democratic, and seeing Kennedy perform only reinforced that tendency.  On the other hand, I feel I have a better handle on the Vice President, and I like him more than I did before the event.  Thus, while Kennedy may have "won" the debate, I think both candidates came out winners in terms of presenting themselves as competent, likeable executive possibilities.

More important, perhaps, is the way this debate has presented in a clear-cut fashion, the issues facing the American people.  We all have a lot to think about now.  And stimulating the cerebral juices is a laudable achievement for a device commonly known as the "idiot box."

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Science / Space Race

[Sep. 26, 1960] Third time unlucky (Atlas Pioneer failure)

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It's enough to break an engineer's heart: yet another Atlas Able launch has gone awry, sending its Pioneer payload not to the Moon, but into the drink.

It is an anticlimactic ending for a mission that withstood all of nature's attempts to stop it.  Just two weeks ago, one of the most destructive hurricanes in history smashed into Florida, sending the launch crew packing.  They got the booster back up in good time, however.

No, what killed the mission were engineering glitches (a brand-new word for a brand-new problem).  In fact, not once has the Atlas Able, the odd marriage of the Atlas ICBM and the top two stages of the old Vanguard booster, worked out.  The first failure was a static test firing that ended in explosion.  The second disappointment involved a popped nosecone.  This third time, something went wrong in the second stage.  The booster got tipped beyond its ability to compensate, and the thing ended up boring straight into the Atlantic Ocean 14 minutes after launch.  'Dolf Thiel, the Air Force's ex-German rocketeer (counterpart to the Army's Von Braun), says his team still doesn't what caused the crash.  That's $10 million down the drain.

There is only one Atlas Pioneer probe and one Atlas Able booster left in the Air Force stable.  The next flight is planned for the end of this year.  Let's hope the fourth time turns out to be the charm.  It would be nice.  The Atlas Pioneer is an impressive machine– at 140 kg, the biggest American deep space probe yet attempted.  The slew of onboard experiments have already been successfully tested on previous flights (Explorer 6 and Pioneer 5), and the vehicle carries the very first engine that can be started, stopped, and restarted in space.  Interestingly, there is no camera on the Atlas Pioneers; but if you saw the results the last time the Air Force released a photo from space, you can understand why they wouldn't want to use their old camera again.


From here

If you're one of the 158 million Americans (out of 180 million) that owns a TV set, I'm willing to bet I know what you'll be doing tonight: the first ever presidential candidate debates will be televised this evening.  I'm very interested to see how this newest of campaign ideas meshes with the newest of communications media.

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Book

[Sep. 21, 1960] If you can't beat em… (Theodore Sturgeon's Venus Plus X)

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Ted Sturgeon wrote a book about sex.

It appears that Sturgeon has always wanted to write "a decent book about sex,"–how it affects our society, not the act itself.  At least, that's what Sturgeon says in the post-script of his strange new novel, Venus Plus X.  Well, it is a decent book (pun intended), and Sturgeon has a lot to say about sex and the relations of the genders in its 160 pages.  Some of it is told, some of it is shown; the end result is a fiction-buffered sermon not unlike the kind Heinlein likes to concoct. 

First, a Cook's tour of the plot.  Venus is really two concurrent stories.  The "A plot" involves Charlie Johns, a bit of a lover, a bit of a loser, snatched from present-day America by a band of futuristic hermaphrodites called Ledom.  These are not aliens, mind you–just a new variety of genderless humanity.  His kidnappers ostensibly have the most benign of intentions for Johns.  They simply want him to observe their society and give his opinions; whereupon, he can return whence he came.

Ledom (the place and the people share a name) is a technological wonderland.  The Ledom obtain limitless power from the "A-field," which generates energy from a matter-antimatter reaction, the antimatter being (tautologically) generated by the A-field.  This makes possible structures built in the shape of cornucopias balanced on their points.  Food is abundant, delicious, and perfectly tailored.  Transportation is as instant as one would like.  Most importantly, the lands of the Ledom are completely shielded from the outside world.  It is always sunny in Ledom, and no harmful elements can intrude.

This seeming paradise is also sociologically perfect.  There is no War between the Sexes.  Indeed, there is no violence at all.  Mating is completely consensual and pleasurable, but it is not the driving force nor the pinnacle expression of love for the Ledom.  Children are raised in common, and all are taught to eke a living from the soil, even in the presence of the bounty made possible by the A-field.  Thanks to the other great Ledom invention, the "cerebrostyle," education can be implanted directly in a Ledom's mind.  This frees people to pursue the careers for which they feel most suited.

Sturgeon gives each episode of Johns' journey loving, perhaps overindulgent, attention.  The clothes, the food, the buildings, the pottery, the incessant singing of the children, the worship of the children by the adults (the only kind of religion in which the Ledom indulge), all get pages of description.  The impression one is left with, that one is supposed to be left with, is that through the elimination of gender and by learning from humanity's mistakes, the Ledom have created Heaven on Earth.

As counterpoint, Sturgeon gives us the "B plot," which appears in vignettes alternating regularly with the pieces of Johns' story.  Told in the present tense to further stress its otherness, it is a slice-of-life portrayal of two families living next door to each other in near-future suburbia.  In this thread, Sturgeon points out two concurrent trends: the increasing convergence of male and female roles, and the reactionary reinforcement of "traditional" gender identities.  In the former, we see the genesis of the Ledom; in the latter, we see the strife the Ledom have apparently avoided.

Also highlighted are our (1960s American) hang-ups regarding the physical act of sex.  Again, the Ledom have avoided them, but at a price you and I might be unwilling to pay. 

In presenting the book as I have, theme-first, if you will, it must sound frightfully dull.  Well, it is, in some parts.  Even Sturgeon's unquestioned gift for the written word cannot completely sugar-coat this horse pill of sociology.  The great mystery driving the story (and one is mostly aware of it thanks to the dramatic blurb on the back of the book) is only revealed and then quickly resolved near the end.  As a result, there isn't a lot of a plot to the story, nor much build-up. 

That said, the questions posed are fascinating, and if the reader doesn't leave with profound insights on gender relations, s/he will at least come away with profound insights on Ted Sturgeon. 

Three and a half stars. 

Note: The title of the story is derived from a passage in the book.  At one point, Johns wonders how to represent the gender of the androgynous Ledom: "They used to use the astronomical symbols for Mars and Venus for male and female…What in hell would they use for these?  Mars plus y?  Venus plus x?"

This pedant thinks it makes more sense to say "Mars plus x, Venus plus y" (after the sex-determining chromosome).  Perhaps "Venus Plus Y" was a less appealing title.

Note 2: The book can also be purchased here

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Magazine

[Sep. 18, 1960] Keeping things even (October 1960 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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I've said before that there seems to be a conservation of quality in science fiction.  It ensures that, no matter how bad the reading might be in one of my magazines, the stories in another will make up for it.  Galaxy was pretty unimpressive this month, so it follows that Fantasy and Science Fiction would be excellent.  I am happy to say that the October 1960 F&SF truly is, as it says on the cover, an "all star issue."


from here

"After-the-Bomb" stories always appeal to me.  I like stories about starting with a clean slate, rebuilding, and pushing onward.  Thus, James Blish's The Oath, this month's lead novelette, starts with an advantage that it, thankfully, never gives up.  In this story, an atomic apocalypse has decimated humanity, which has reverted to subsistence farming.  Specialization is virtually impossible, in part because most of the specialists were slaughtered early on by a resentful populace.  But everyone needs a doctor, and in one remote part of the former U.S.A., an erstwhile copywriter becomes an amateur pharmacologist.

In doing so, he attracts the attention of a real doctor, a recruiter for one of the few bastions of civilization left standing.  The resulting dialogue is a compelling one that gives the reader much to think about.  What is a doctor without the Hippocratic Oath?  Is it better to be a demigod among savages than an intern amongst professionals?  What is more important: fulfillment of personal dreams or serving a larger community?  Excellent stuff, if a bit speechy.  Four stars.

Something, in which an elderly antiquities curator comes face to face with an ancient evil presence, is brought to us by Allen Drury.  He won the Pulitzer this year for his novel, Advise and Consent.  Atmospheric, it's a mood piece more than a story piece.  Three stars.

Arthur C. Clarke, the hybrid who stands precisely in the gap between scientist and fictioneer, brings us the rather archaic-seeming Inside the Comet.  The crew of the Challenger, dispatched to investigate a comet, become trapped in its coma when the ship's computer breaks down.  Without the machine to compute orbital calculations, the ship might never get home.  Until, that is, a canny crewman teaches his shipmates to use abaci.  The description of the comet feels quite current, scientifically, and I like the idea of humans being able to rely on low technology solutions when the advanced options have failed.  It's just a bit dated in its structure and with its gimmick ending.  Three stars.

The least of the issue's stories is Poul Anderson's Welcome, featuring a fellow who time travels from modern day to five centuries in the future.  He is received as an honored guest, which is why it takes him so long to realize the crushing poverty in which most of the world lives.  The kicker at the end is the reveal that the future's elite literally dine on the poor.  Readable satire treading ground long since flattened by Swift and Wells.  Three stars (barely).

But then we have From Shadowed Places from that master, Richard Matheson.  The premise is simple: an adventurer in Africa offends a witch doctor and is hexed with a fatal curse.  Only the help of a woman anthropologist / part-time ju ju practitioner can save him.  It's a perfect blend of horror, suspense, social commentary, and erotica–the kind that made Matheson's The Incredible Shrinking Man a book for the ages.  Extra praise is earned for having a strong Black woman as the focal (if not the viewpoint) character.  This story definitely pushes the envelope in many ways.  Five stars.

I'm happy, as always, to see Katherine MacLean in print.  Interbalance, her first tale in F&SF, is a meet cute set in Puerto Rico some twenty years after the Bomb has wiped out most of the world.  More is at stake than simple romance, however–it is a clash between the straightlaced mores of the old world and the liberated, survival-minded culture of the new.  Delightfully suspenseful.  Four stars.

A quick dip in quality accompanies Howard Fast's tale, The Sight of Eden, in which Earth's first interstellar travelers find themselves barred from a park-like pleasure planet.  It seems that humans are unbiquitous in the Galaxy, but only Earthlings are nasty and violent.  The planet's caretaker offers no words of advice to cure the peculiar ailments of our species; he just sends the Terrans packing.  Fast tells the story well enough…I just don't like what he has to say.  Three stars.

Asimov has a good article this month, Stepping Stones to the Stars, about the halo of icy objects in our solar system orbiting so far out that it takes a year for the light of the Sun to reach it!  Too dim to see, we only know about these little planets because, every so often, one gets nudged out of its orbit such that it careens into the inner solar system.  As it approaches the sun, its volatile contents sublime, creating a dramatic glowing tail.  And so, these inconspicuous bodies become comets.  If one thinks of this cloud of comets-to-be as the edge of our solar system, and if we presume that our nearest neighbor, Alpha Centauri, hosts a similar cloud, then our systems are probably less than two light years from each other.  It's a fascinating revelation, and it makes me feel similarly to when I discovered that the Soviet Union and the United States are just twenty miles apart…by way of Alaska.

By the way, both James Blish and the good Doctor have come to the conclusion that Pluto has no moon of significant size.  They thus urge people to save their good underworld-related names for the 10th and 11th planets, should they ever be discovered.

Back to fiction, writing duo Robert Wade and William Miller, writing as Wade Miller, offer up How Lucky We Met.  We've all heard of were-wolves, but what happens when the condition is more subtle and constant than the traditional malady?  Four stars.

Finally, Philip Jose Farmer once again has the concluding novella.  A Few Miles is the fourth in a series detailing the life of ex-con and current-monk, John Carmody.  Carmody and Harrison's "Stainless Steel Rat" have a lot in common.  They are both canny former criminals for whom the transition to law-abiding citizen is not 100% complete.  In this story, the good Brer John is given orders to sojourn to the planet "Wildenwoolly," presumably to demonstrate his worthiness for ascension to the priesthood.  He does not even make it halfway through his hometown of Fourth of July, Arizona, thwarted by a series of increasingly difficult obstacles. 

I imagine Farmer will compile all of these stories into a book someday.  It will be a good one.  Four stars.

All told, this has been the best issue of F&SF of the year, with a needle quivering solidly above the 3.5 mark.  A good way to end this month's digest reading.  Stay tuned for a review of Ted Sturgeon's new book, Venus Plus X!

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Movies

[September 15, 1960] You can lead a horticulture… (Roger Corman's Little Shop of Horrors)

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The motion picture industry has been in decline for fifteen years, leaving movie houses owners pondering this humdinger:

"How do we get more folks through our doors?" 

One way has been to aim for the pocketbook.  Offer two movies for the price of one, the so-called "double feature."  Only, it hasn't worked out so well, and the practice seems to be dying out. 

The issue seems to be one of quality.  What good does it do to get a second movie for free if it's not worth the time spent to endure it?  Especially now that the allure of the theater is diminished by the spread of home air conditioning and television?  This is why Hollywood is now turning to true spectacles to pack the seats: Ben Hur, The Ten Commandments.  the upcoming Spartacus.  These are epics for which the small screen just won't cut it.  They may be what saves the industry.

This is not to say that B-movies, the second bananas in a double-bill, are history.  In fact, my family and I just went to the cinema to watch what can only be described as a Double B feature: a pairing of The Last Woman on Earth and Little Shop of Horrors.  I suppose that makes one of them a C-movie!  Both are by Roger Corman, renowned for making low-budget schlock.  He has a talent for squeezing the most out of a tiny purse, and much of what he produces has surprising merit.

I talked about The Last Woman on Earth in my last piece.  This time around, let's look at Little Shop of Horrors.

It's a simple, shocking story on the face of it.  Seymour Krelbourne is a dim-witted assistant in the shop of Gravis Mushnick, a florist on Skid Row in Los Angeles.  On the verge of losing his job due to his incompetence, Seymour wins his boss over with a peculiar homegrown hybrid that turns out to be a hit with the customers.  Seymour names it Audrey Junior after his adorable, if dotty, co-worker, and thus wins her over, too.  Happy story, no?

No.  As it turns out, Audrey Junior is a sentient Venus Fly Trap with a taste for meat…human meat.  It uses Seymour as a patsy to conduct a series of grisly murders and feed its insatiable appetite.  Ultimately, the beast is stopped, but at a high price.

Sounds like a typical low-grade horror movie, doesn't it?  Don't be fooled.  The plot is simply a vehicle to deliver a non-stop series of character gags, physical humor, malaprop jokes, and general farce.  It's a genuinely funny film that feels like a cross between The Twilight Zone and a Borscht Belt stand-up routine.  Standout characters include Mel Welles as Mushnick, sporting a convincing Turkish Jewish accent; Wally Campo and Jack Warford as a pair of police investigators doing a spot-on parody of the duo from Dragnet; John Shaner as a sadistic dentist; Jack Nicholson as a masochistic patient; and Corman-film perennial, Dick Miller, as a flosiverous (flower-eating) customer. 

Little Shop of Horrors is hardly cinematic gold, but it is good-naturedly gruesome and a lot of fun.  I suspect this odd little comedy may well become a cult film, remembered as one of Corman's better pieces.  Watch it while it's still in theaters!

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Movies

[September 13, 1960] On the beach… again (The Last Woman on Earth)

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from here

I understand that the movie-house biz isn't doing so well.  Looking through my trade magazines, I found some pretty alarming statistics.  During the War, Americans spent about a quarter of their recreation budget on movies.  Now, we spend just 5% in the cinemas.  Movie revenues are down a third, from $1.4 billion to $950 million.  Only half as many films are coming out this year as did during the War–200 versus 400.

The causes of film's decline aren't too hard to discern.  Television is free and constant.  More homes have air conditioning.  Going to the movies isn't such an event anymore. 

Not that the film parlors haven't tried.  Cinescope.  Cinerama.  Aroma-rama!  Double features.  Drive-in viewing.  Nothing's working.

Well, never let it be said that the Journey shirks its civic duty.  Thus it was that the Traveller and his family all went to see the Roger Corman double-feature at the local movie palace.

Yes, you heard right.  They billed a Corman B-movie with…another Corman B-movie!  Boy are we gluttons for punishment.  Actually, the experience wasn't so bad.  We'd heard that his Little Shop of Horrors was a clever little comedy, and we weren't disappointed. 

But that's getting ahead of ourselves, for Shop was the second feature on the billing.  Number one was:

The Last Woman on Earth

This is a post-apocalyptic film, a genre that is booming these days.  In Woman, some sort of bomb or act of God momentarily destroys all free oxygen in the atmosphere, killing humanity and most of Earth's animal life. A crooked billionaire, his beautiful and disillusioned wife, and his nebbishy young attorney manage to survive the end of the world thanks to some timely scuba diving off the coast of Puerto Rico. 

In the first 15 minutes of the movie, we get to meet the three protagonists as they are in the civilized world.  Harold is a rich cynic who takes nothing very seriously, including his wife.  He spends much of his life drinking, gambling, and making his fortunes.  Martin is Harold's lawyer.  His defining trait seems to be caution.  And then we have the lovely Evelyn, who is tired of being ignored, tired of being kept at arm's length from her new husband.  She makes a pass at Martin in just the second scene, though it's hard to see what the attraction is, other than convenience.

Then comes the disaster.  The characters emerge from the water and take in lungfuls of air that do not satisfy.  Matches don't light.  Engines don't catch.  When the trio gets back to town, everyone is suffocated.  It's really quite nicely done.

The three take refuge at a swank residence with enough food and booze to last months, if not years.  Sounds idyllic… except Harold is a rolling stone, a man of action.  He worries about disease and wants to look for other survivors.  What made him venal and dirty in the old world makes him a natural leader in the new one.  One can't help but like him.

Except Martin doesn't much like him.  Under the new conditions, Martin sees no reason to follow the driven Harold..  And Evelyn sees the catastrophe as a sort of liberation, a chance to start anew.  With Martin.

Martin and Evelyn consumate an affair, and Harold exiles his attorney from their little paradise.  Martin leaves…with Evelyn, and the pair plan to steal Harold's yacht and make for Florida.  But Martin is not really a rebel–more of a depressive.  His basic pessimism and lassitude become evident when he rejects Evelyn's suggestion that they start a family, and she starts to have second thoughts about their relationship. 

Then Harold shows up, and we are treated to a long chase and fight scene in which Harold mortally wounds Martin.  This leaves Harold and Evelyn a couple by default, if a rather shaky one.

I like dramas in a bottle, and I like post apocalyptic stories.  This one had its issues, however.  It's not so much bad as it is disappointing. The film sort of fizzles out halfway and never does much with its material.  It doesn't help that two of the three characters aren't very likable, and the fellow who plays Martin isn't much of an actor.  The ending is a letdown, too; I think it would have been more compelling if Harold had let the others go, with Evelyn ultimately returning to her husband. 

Of course, the real issue is that this movie has been done before, and better: The World, The Flesh, and The Devil. 

But, if nothing else, it is a lovely film.  Corman makes expert use of the local scenery: beaches, forest, a coastal fort.  I can only imagine that he had other business on the island.  There's no way he'd have the budget to head out there otherwise! 

Stay tuned for Little Shop of Horrors in a couple of days…

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Magazine

[September 10, 1960] Analog, Part 2 (The October 1960 Analog)

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The October 1960 Analog is a surprisingly decent read.  While none of it is literature for the ages (some might argue that the Ashwell-written lead novella is an exception), neither is any of it rough hoeing.  Interestingly, it is an issue devoted almost entirely to sequels.  It works, I think.

The first story after the Ashwell is H.B.Fyfe's Satellite System, and it's the best of the three I've seen from him thus far.  An interstellar trader is ejected from his ship by hijackers.  But will orbital mechanics allow him to have the last laugh?  I liked the idea that trade between the stars is so expensive that only the exchange of ideas is profitable.

Mack Reynolds offers up the thoughtful and enjoyable Combat.  It's another of his Cold War stories set in the mid 1970s, a la Revolution and (maybe) Pieces of the Game, where the Soviet Union is ascendant despite all of our current predictions.  It's not a utopia, mind you, but it's definitely something of a success story.  In Combat, advanced extraterrestrials appear, and to the West's consternation, pick Moscow as their first stop. 

What makes this story compelling is the rather even-handed way with which Reynolds portrays Communism and the world behind the Iron Curtain.  There's a lot of good political discussion, but it never gets too preachy or bogged down, as in some of Heinlein's work.  Of course, I don't buy Reynolds' predictions, even with Jack Kennedy's recent statement that Sputnik and Lunik were "twin alarm bells in the night."  Some of Reynolds' statements don't even make sense.  For instance, in his story, both superpowers spend half of their GNP on the military.  Fundamentally impossible. 

But it's worth seeing the tale through to the end, even if that end is a slight let-down.

Randall Garrett, under the name of "Darrel T. Langart," wrote the next tale: Psichopath.  It's a direct sequel to What the Left Hand was Doing and features the same psionic secret agency.  This time around, they are investigating what appear to be acts of sabotage at an antigravity research facility.  Given the two-page screed about scientists' reluctance to acknowledge attacks on cherished scientific axioms (a thinly disguised paean to the much-abused Mr. Dean and his "drive"), I suspect Campbell had a strong hand in its editing.

Wrapping up the fiction is Isaac Asimov's latest non-fact article on Thiotimoline, the a fictional substance that dissolves in water before its insertion!  Thiotimoline and the Space Age discusses some of the technological advances the substance allows.  For instance one can use it to send messages back in time to determine the success of a space mission or missile launch before it happens.  It's a cute piece.

Finally, Campbell has yet another report on one of his home science projects.  In this case, it's an overlong treatise on his attempts to grow crystals called The Self-Repairing Robot.  It would have been nice had he discussed at further length the concept behind the article's title, that self-repairing crystals could be a pretty neat technological advancement.  Rather, we get to ooh and ahh at the descriptions of brightly colored inorganic growths–accompanied by drab black-and-white photos. 

All in all, its a solid three-star issue.  That's pretty good for Analog.  Plus, it looks like "Mark Randall" will be back next month with another Malone and Boyd story.  Their last one was pretty good, so there's something to look forward to. 

In other news, Hurricane Donna has made landfall in Florida.  This massive storm is a serious menace, and the folks at Cape Canaveral are taking no chances.  Both stages of the Atlas Able, which was deployed for a Pioneer Moon lshot ater this month, have been towed to protective hangars.  Antennas and cables have been disconnected from buildings and vehicles.  All of the large transport aircraft based at Patrick Air Force Base departed like a flock of frightened birds.  Their destination was San Salvador and other downrange islands.  The base personnel evacuated the base by noon after securing the hangars.  I understand that they had a harrowing ride back to their Cocoa Beach hotels as blinding rain lashed against their windshields and gusts of wind threatened to knock their cars off the road.

I suspect there will be another rough couple of days, not just for the engineers, but for all the residents of the Eastern seaboard.  Stay safe, my friends. 

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