One of my favorite sci-fi publishers these days is Ace Books. We've talked about their double novels a lot on the Journey, so I'm sure you're well aware of them, but I'd like to take a moment to consider just how delightful their line has been over the last decade-plus.
For the last 15 years or so, Ace's flip books, or tête-bêches if you want to get all French about them, have presented a wide spectrum of science fiction from some of the grand masters. Asimov, Brackett, deCamp and Dick have all been published under the Ace banner along with more modern writers like John Brunner, Kenneth Bulmer and Damon Knight. And while some of these little novels haven't been great – Agent of the Unknown, to choose one at random, has a fun cover but an uninspiring story – others are thoroughly delightful.
And best of all, all these little novels are all short! Most are 120 pages or less: a quick couple hours' read while on the bus or after school.
Whether delivered as an opportunity to repackage Ziff-Davis novels, or a chance for a young writer to experiment with his or her craft, or a chance for an older writer to burn off an unpublished tale, the reader gets real value from his or her 35¢ (in the '50s) or 50¢ today. And whether the reader discovers a nice treasure or total drek, the low price point and quick-read style of the books seldom leaves a bad taste in the mouth.
The biggest thrill for me with these Ace novels is to get to see a growing science fiction talent spread his or her wings a bit and deliver a terrific first novel. Rocannon's World is exactly that kind of thrill. Written by up-and-coming author Ursula K. LeGuin, this expansion of an earlier Amazing Stories tale shows a passion for alien cultures that demonstrates a unique and intriguing viewpoint.
Rocannon's World is a kind of sci-fi/fantasy hybrid. Our protagonist is Gaverel Rocannon, an ethnologist on a mission to explore the biology of the planet Fomalhaut II. Though Fomalhaut II is nominally under an exploration embargo by the League of All Worlds, the League's enemy establishes a base on Formalhut to battle them.
If you're thinking this sounds like the launch of one of those novels all about the lone hero fighting and defeating a staunch enemy, you're both right and wrong. Eventually Rocannon is able to win, but he only does so after a long and arduous — and exciting — journey, and only after causing himself great trauma and pain.
Formalhut is an intriguing planet, and LeGuin gives this planet an clever sort of fantasy feel. Rocannon and his native companions fly on "windsteeds," giant flying cat creatures, he encountrers dwarflike Gdemiar, rodent like Kiemhir, elven Fiia, even nightmarish creatures just called Winged Ones. It all feels like a bit of lesser Tolkien, and that gives this brief book a lot of its charm.
The author Ms. LeGuin
But charming as this book is, LeGuin wrote something more interesting and complex than a simple story about a battle on another planet. Rocannon goes through an archetypical journey to his heroism. He starts a bit feckless but soon learns the importance of his journey. After enlisting the help of newfound friends, Rocannon gains confidence and trust. His moment of transformation happens when he goes into a mountainside cave. While in the cave, he encounters "the Old One", a strange entity who grants Rocannon "mindspeech", or telepathy, in exchange for giving himself to the planet.
That mindspeech is a blessing and curse, granting Rocannon the ability to win his war but also granting him the chance to psychically feel the pain of all the beings he has killed.
All of this is heady stuff that expands on the considerable promise Ms. LeGuin has shown in her short stories. Though the novel has some flaws, most of them are tied to its abbreviated length. There's a feeling throughout of playing with key ideas and concepts, a kind of authorial exploration of her own mind. I hope we get to return to this world, but even more I hope the author has more good novels in her.
Rocannon's World 3.5 stars
[Note: This novel appears to be a sequel of sorts to Dowry of the Angyar, reviewed in these pages two years ago (ed.)]
I was surprised and happy to discover I liked the flip side of this double novel nearly as much. I've never been a big fan of Avram Davidson's stories in the mags, finding them a bit wordy and dull. Somehow, though, this novel clicked in for me much more than his short stories usually do, and I found myself intrigued and captived by a lot of The Kar-Chee Reign.
Kar-Chee takes place in a far-future Earth. Hollowed out by over-mining and ecological collapse, Earth has been abandoned and forgotten by her children who have long since settled on distant planets. Only a small number of humans remain on the planet, eking out a small subsistence lifestyle. Those humans, though, are imperiled by an insectlike alien race called the Kar-Chee, out to strip Earth of its few remaining minerals, for reasons completely unknown to humans.
As with the LeGuin novel, you can probably guess how Mr. Davidson's story will play out: a group of humans rally their forces, gather up their courage, build smart weapons and begin to beat back the invaders and reclaim Earth's birthright.
The author Mr. Davidson
Like Rocannon, the pleasure in Kar-Chee lies in its journey, not in its destination. Davidson delivers large amounts of expository text in this book, giving readers the background of Earth's downfall in a lyrical style that feels as evocative as stories told around a campfire. Those sections of this novel have a suprising power and I found myself missing the expository elements when the book settled back into its action-packed elements. I wonder if Mr. Davidson has any interest in writing a future history chronicle, because I would love to read something like that.
The Kar-Chee Reign: 3 stars
The April '66 Ace Double turned out to be… well, aces, or at least a Jack and a Queen. Who knows what the next publication will bring? I'll be haunting the paperback rack at my local Woolworth's till the next book arrives.
Is 1966 the best year ever for comic books? Yeah… maybe!
Based on the articles I’ve been seeing in newspapers, magazines and fanzines, Batman appears to be the runaway hit tv program of 1966. After 12 episodes, this show has exceeded expectations for fans and non-fans alike. Who would have expected Batman to be so true to the comics, with appearances by the Joker, Mr. Freeze, the Mad Hatter and even an obscure character like the Riddler (who hadn’t appeared in any comics between 1948 and 1965!).
The show has been a delight, and has prompted this house to buy a brand new color TV to enjoy it in its full splendor (well, that, and we had to see the exotic locations in Man from U.N.C.L.E. in color, too). And gosh, what a tremendous show this is for its bright and shiny design elements. The costumes of Batman, the Joker and Robin all look spectacular on our new Admiral set!
I know there has been some grousing about how the show mocks the Caped Crusader and his faithful pal, but I frankly love it. Maybe I’ve been desperate for a superhero TV show since Superman left the air a decade ago, but I dig the clever ways the show’s producers incorporate comic book elements into every scene of the show. The “BIFF! BANG! POW” elements during fight scenes may annoy some viewers who want more seriousness in their superheroes, but to me these are like comic book panels writ large on my 25” screen, thrilling reminders of their roots while also giving TV viewers a clever motif to groove on. Others complain that the characters seem self-mocking, calling it “camp” (a phrase I’ve never heard in this context before), but I wonder if those complainers read the Batman comics I wrote about last year. Until very recently, Batman was a moribund character fated for cancelation, so I’m delighted to see him get any attention at all.
And I groove on the deathtraps these characters find themselves in every Wednesday prior to the Thursday conclusions. Ma Bell likes it too, I think, because my friends and I call each other every week to try to figure out how our heroes can escape from the amazing perils the villains place them in.
I’m starting to see a rise in the interest in super-heroes at my local newsstand, perhaps prompted by the success of the TV show. It also helps that so many of the comics being released today are absolutely great. Not only are Marvel and National releasing lines of comics that are more intriguing than they have ever been, but new and revived publishers are putting out some comics that are outstanding (and some that are less than great, but hey, that’s just the law of averages at play, I think).
A lot of the thrill these days has been at Marvel, as some of their comics are reaching unparalleled new levels of excellence. For instance, the work of Steve Ditko and Stan Lee on both Amazing Spider-Man and the “Dr. Strange” strip in Strange Tales has been outstanding. Peter Parker has graduated high school and enrolled at Empire State University in Spider-Man. Pete seems to be shedding his nature as a nebbish since he joined college, making new friends while having new (and more sophisticated) problems. The three-part “Master Planner” saga which ended in ASM #33 was a storyline nonpareil, a thrill a minute journey with a spectacular denouement. (I’m including the payoff below, but please try to find all these issues if you can, because the leadup is just as spectacular).
Ditko and Lee’s “Doctor Strange” is in the midst of an astonishing long saga which journeys to strange, mystical realms to bring readers scenes we’ve never seen before. This lone hero fights impossible obstacles, issue by painful issue, to save a humanity who have no idea of his heroics. These two Ditko-illustrated comics are breathtaking – and, as I’ll soon discuss, this prolific artist is working on more than two comics lately.
Those two series are two of the three best comics being released in 1966, but the third greatest comic of our year has to be Fantastic Four. Stan Lee and the incomparable Jack Kirby (King of the Comics) are delivering the most astonishing thrill-ride in comics history. Reed Richards married Sue Storm in the 1965 FF Annual, but the couple's life has been no honeymoon since their big event, as they’ve fought an incredible “Battle for the Baxter Building”, before meeting and fighting the astonishing Inhumans. But this month has produced perhaps the finest comic Marvel has ever printed. In this month’s FF #50, the heroes found themselves in conflict with the mysterious cosmic villain Galactus, who wants to eat the Earth simply to stay alive. Readers are swept away with the desperation of our heroes and their valiant battle to save our planet, a story only Jack Kirby could have drawn. It also features the character I believe will be the breakout hero of 1966, the star-spanning Silver Surfer.
Marvel’s also producing some other great comics. Thor has moved out of the old Journey Into Mystery anthology into his own comics title, and Lee and Kirby are delivering a godlike battle there which shakes the cosmos. In X-Men, Lee and artist Jay Gavin keep playing and have delivered an intriguing new hero-villain called the Mimic. Lee and new artist John Romita have been doing terrific work on Daredevil (Romita might be a good substitute for Ditko if the latter ever has to take a month off; it’s hard to imagine Ditko leaving the character permanently). And comics like Avengers, Sgt. Fury, Two-Gun Kid and Tales to Astonish are continuing to deliver satisfying action stories, with the shattered romance tale "Killed in Action" in Fury #18 a real standout.
At National, which some people call DC, the line has adopted a new set of “go-go checks” at the top of their covers. Besides being hep and fun, these checks also help the comics stand out at my local drug store rack – a smart decision if you ask me.
Inside their comics, National continues their solid comics storytelling. Editor Julius Schwartz’s line is consistently entertaining. The Atom, Batman, Detective Comics,Hawkman and Green Lantern are all standouts for both story and art. Meanwhile, action heroes like the Metal Men, the Challengers of the Unknown and the Sea Devils all continue to deliver fun excitement, and Doom Patrol is always an irreverent treat. New series Teen Titans promises to be fun, and what teen or pre-teen wouldn't groove to the tales of sidekicks joined together?
I was disappointed to see Adam Strange, Space Ranger and Rip Hunter… Time Master lose their ongoing strips, though I'm anxious to see what replaces them. And though Wonder Woman seems to continue to wander in its own mediocre wilderness (now set in the passé 1940s), the National line seems to be consistently entertaining each month. Of course, it’s hard to project how the massive success of Batman on TV will affect the comics, but one hopes the publisher won’t adopt those “camp” elements fans are so mixed about.
But some of the most exciting news in comics is happening outside of these two dominant publishers.
Gold Key Comics, primarily known for their comics featuring adaptations of TV series as diverse as Top Cat, Flipper and My Favorite Martian as well as their Disney line, is continuing their adventure comics line and even expanding the line. In fact, Super Goof set Mickey's pal Goofy as a super-hero in a delightful series of adventures as Super Goof!
Gold Key is the former sister publisher to Dell Comics, and it can often be hard to tell the two companies apart from each other despite their differences in editioral staffs. Their line also mainly consists of adapted titles like The Beverly Hillbillies and The Outer Limits along with a handful of original titles like Ghost Stories and Air War Stories. That line included a few new originals, including the gross-out Melvin Monster (which seems to be done by the same staff who deliver the delightful Thirteen Going on Thirty series) and the super-hero Nukla. I was also surprised to see a Black cowboy comic on the stands from Dell. Lobo is the stor of a buffalo soldier accused of a crime he didn't commit, and the first issue is pretty terrific! This may be the first comic featuring a solo Black character in his own title in many years (I believe there were a couple published by small companies in the 1940s), which is a nice sign of progress for the Great Society.
For many years, Charlton Comics have been considered at the bottom of the barrel, with their comics consistently delivering hackneyed and dull stories. Making things worse, Charltons seem like they’re printed on a cereal box press, with a strange paper texture, jagged edges on some of their pages, and even an odd smell to some of their comics.
Thankfully, though their printing quality doesn’t seem to be improving, Charlton’s comics are indeed improving. New series Peter Cannon… Thunderbolt launched early this year and has been fun. With art (and story?) by the mysterious PAM, these stories combine a surprising Eastern influence with New York gangsters. This is a series to watch.
Even more exciting is Captain Atom. You may remember the good Captain as an early sci-fi superhero from 1959 and 1960. Forget what you read before. The great Steve Ditko is now drawing Captain Atom’s adventures, and, let me tell you, they are as good as the stories Ditko is drawing at Marvel. Ditko’s Captain Atom is dynamic, fun and gorgeously illustrated. You’ll get bragging rights among your friends for recommending these comics to them.
I wish I could recommend Archie Comics’ line of superheroes to you, but they are painful to read. For many years now Archie has been publishing The Fly, but now the character has been renamed Fly Man in his own series (maybe to confuse Spider-Man fans?) and is also part of a new super-team called The Mighty Crusaders. That new team comic might be the worst comic of 1966, even worse than Wonder Woman.
The Archie heroes are written and drawn in a painful pastiche of the Marvel style, with “hip” dialogue and “fun” captions that read like a grandfather desperately trying to connect with his goatee-wearing grandkids. These comics aren’t just groan-inducing, they’re downright painful. Ignore them.
On a happier note, new publisher Tower Comics has been a very pleasant surprise. Their flagship title is THUNDER Agents, a fun mix of super-heroes and spy agencies that sets super-heroes No-Man, Dynamo, Menthor and Lightning against the evil Warlord.
So far, each issue has been double-sized, which means it’s packed with great and dynamic stories. Best of all, it includes illustrations from some of my beloved masters of comic book art, including Wally Wood, Reed Crandall, Gil Kane, George Tuska, Mike Sekowsky and others. These have been terrific comics, well worth seeking out. According to the fanzines, Tower has been doing well and should be available most everywhere, but if not, remind your local newsstand owner that he should make higher profits at 25¢ retail per issue.
Superheroes continue at American Comics Group as well. ACG comics always seem to range from “ok” to “weird as can be.” In the former category are Nemesis in Adventures into the Unknown and Magicman in Forbidden Worlds. Both those series read like mediocre Marvel or National comics, which is just fine.
But if you’re not picking up an occasional issue of Herbie, you’re missing one of the strangest, most inexplicable comics on the stands today. Just look at that cover above if you don’t believe me. I don’t even want to try to describe this unprecedented series to you because it’s just so surreal and delightful. I laugh more at this comic than I ever will at a year's worth of Archie hero comics. I promise you that Herbie and his lollipop will burrow into your brain.
The most unexpected premier of the last year has been the appearance of Captain Marvel on the newsstands, but it's not the Captain Marvel you'd think of. Newcomer publisher M.F. Publications has launched the adventures of a completely new Captain Marvel. Instead of shouting "Shazam", this Cap screams "split" and splits off his hands, legs and head so he can fight multiple criminals at the same time. Yes, it's all as odd as it sounds, made even odder by the fact that apparently the series is written and drawn by Carl Burgos, the man who created the original Human Torch back in the early 1940s!
The last stop in our journey through comics in 1966 takes us to the magazine rack. On the cheaper area of some racks we might find magazine-sized comics from M.F., including their wretched seridss Weird. The less said about the terrible stories and art in Weird the better. Thankfully next to Weird,where we will find Warren Magazines. You might remember Warren from my article about the late, lamented Help! Magazine, which sadly recently saw its final issue on the newsstand. Thankfully publisher James Warren has filled that gap with two great horror comics and an even better war comic.
Warren started publishing horror anthology Creepy in late 1964, and that mag has built a deserved reputation as one of the finest horror comics ever published, a worthy successor to the classic EC Comics. In fact, that comparison is appropriate because Creepy and its new sister title Eerie have published great horror tales drawn by the likes of Al Williamson, John Severin, Reed Crandall and Johnny Craig – EC legends all. Even more thrilling, those brilliant artists have been joined by modern counterparts like Gene Colan, the astonishing Alex Toth and, yes, the brilliant Steve Ditko. I told you Ditko gets around! With brilliant writing by the always adept Archie Goodwin, these comics are a tremendous treat.
I’m also a huge fan of Warren’s war comic Blazing Combat. Also written by Goodwin, the three issues thus far include brilliant artwork accompanying piercing and terrifying war tales that tell the gritty truth of war as it really is. They are the second best war comics ever published, behind only the truly great war comics written and edited by Harvey Kurtzman at EC. I’m sure BC doesn’t sell well, so I beg all comics readers to pick up this magazine while they still can. It costs three times as much as a standard comic, at 35¢ per issue, so I understand peoples' reluctance at picking up issues of this amazing series.
Whew! You can see why I say comics may never have been better than they are today. Truly, any trip to the comics rack will bring you some delightful treasures no matter what sorts of comics you like.
One final note: here in my native Brooklyn, there seemed to be some strange event over Mt. Sinai Hospital today. We saw some storks on the roof of the hospital. Anybody with any information on the events at the hospital that day, please contact this magazine.
The Journey is once again up for a Best Fanzine Hugo nomination — and its founder is up for several other awards as well! If you've got a Worldcon membership, or if you just want to see what Gideon's done that's Hugo-worthy, please read his Hugo Eligibility article! Thank you for your continued support.
Last weekend I took my girlfriend down to our local drive-in theatre, the good ol' Puget Park Drive-in, to catch a delightfully moody double feature of sci fi scares. Die, Monster, Die and Planet of the Vampires are perfect drive-in fodder. Both films offer atmospheric adventures accentuated with dread and tension, presented in vivid color that adds to the fear created in each scene. We were surprised by how much we enjoyed both of these flicks and I hope I can persuade you to catch them when they come to your town.
The Puget Park Drive-in. It doesn't look like much, but it's brought plenty of thrills over the last few years.
Die Monster Die!
The first movie on our double bill was Die Monster Die! This flick, released by our good friends at American International Pictures, is apparently a loose adaptation of the H.P. Lovecraft story "The Color Out of Space" and co- stars a cadaverous Boris Karloff along with Nick Adams and Suzan Farmer in a thoroughly entertaining, moody tale that has some powerful moments influenced by the horror master of Arkham, Massachusetts.
When American Stephen Reinhart (Adams) travels to Arkham, England to visit his fiancée Susan Witley at her family's strange mansion, he clearly has no idea the kind of bizarre adventure he will find there. From the moment Reinhart leaves the train, he meets surprising resistance to his getting to the Witley home. A taxi driver refuses to take his fare, a bike shop owner refuses to rent him a bike, and Reinhart is snubbed by villagers for even suggesting he wants to travel to visit his fiancée's family. The countryside around Arkham is scorched with a deep crater, and it's pretty clear the crater has left scars in the villagers' minds along with their town. Is the crater related to the fear of the pariah Witley family? As we'll soon discover, there is ample reason for the villagers' fears.
Stephen marches to the Whitley mansion on foot. When the intrepid American finally arrives at the house, he begins to understand why the villagers think him crazy for wanting to spend time there. The once-stately home has fallen into a state of deep disrepair. Its gate is rusted, plants grow wild in the yard, and the whole place seems to need a new coat of paint. This slow unfolding of deepening confusion transitions the viewer into a sense of dread about what Stephen will find at the house, and makes the viewer concerned about the people living there.
Meandering quietly into the house, Reinhart nearly stumbles over the wheelchair-bound patriarch Nahum Witley (Karloff), who tries desperately to frighten our American hero away. Karloff is wonderful here, with a deep sense of gravitas, but he also carries some real sadness, as his advanced age and significant medical problems are clearly on display. Nahum keeps his reasons vague, but his words make it clear that there are true horrors there, including dread creatures that imperil everyone. Just as it seems Nahum is ready to literally push Stephen out of his house, his lovely daughter intervenes. Susan Witley (Farmer) is the opposite of her father: welcoming, kind and optimistic.
It's obvious from the first moment we meet Susan that she and Stephen will soon find themselves in opposition to Nahum. Less obvious is the looming presence of Susan's mother Letitia (Freda Jackson), a woman seemingly at death's door who speaks to Stephen in foreboding murmurs about meteors and monsters, bewildering descriptions of seemingly indescribable objects and events that leave our hero deeply confused. Letitia's body also appears to be rotting away, and perhaps Stephen wonders if her mind is rotting as well. To show her physical rot, we get a few weird glimpses of Letitia's body, including a hand that seems to lose its flesh the longer we watch it.
Good ol' Boris Karloff, trying to scare Stephen away from his house. Run away, Stephen!
The movie cuts from Letitia to Nahum and his trusty aide Merwyn (Terence De Marney) as they wander into the basement of the mansion — and it is in this scene that the horror starts to become clear. Amidst smart set decorations of distended faces and glowing neon colors, it's clear that Nahum and Merwyn have a deep and dreadful secret, tied to the strange glowing thing locked in that basement, the thing that alternately scares and interests Nahum.
From there, the movie begins to really take off into its own creepy territory, a smart mix of Lovecraft with the darkest work of Edgar Allan Poe along with a few AIP stylistic flares. If you've seen the trailer for Die Monster Die!, you've seen the wonderfully strange monster below which indeed seems to come right from the typewriter of the great Mr. Lovecraft.
This definitely looks like something out of Lovecraft
I was legitimately creeped out by that otherworldly monstrosity and the eerie keening noise it made. As the secrets of Nahum's home become more and more evident, this monster proves to be just one of the many horrors living there. We encounter living plants, see a shockingly dark end to Letitia's life and eventually get another chance to see the great Mr. Karloff made up to be a frightening killer. By the time we witness a strongly Poe-influenced ending to the film, viewers have witnessed some real strangeness on screen.
My girlfriend and I both really enjoyed this flick. Karloff is at his classic best here, providing his character with real depth and pathos. Despite his obvious illnesses, Karloff frankly thoroughly out-acts his counterparts on the screen. Adams and Farmer are an attractive couple, but they are two-dimensional. We learn little or nothing about either one of them, and Stephen mostly exists in this film as a plot device rather than a real character. Similarly, Susan was a character with great potential as a woman with one foot in the supernatural world and the other in our human world, but she is never given much to do beyond being Stephen's sidekick.
Karloff showing his inner glow
I also would have loved to see more about the villagers' fears, and explore the meteor's impact more, but all of my complaints about depth are kind of moot here. As the front half of a double-bill, Die Monster Die! had to be about an hour and fifteen minutes long. And as a movie of that length, it triumphs. The photography is excellent, Karloff is loads of fun, and the monsters are spooky.
Planet of the Vampires
After grabbing some popcorn and jujubes, we got back in the front seat of my Mustang for the second film of the evening. Planet of the Vampires was the perfect film companion to Die Monster Die. Both movies are spooky, atmospheric tales with lovely colors and intriguing acting.
Nothing on this poster matches the movie but I didn't mind!
In fact, most everything I enjoyed about Die Monster Die! is done even better in Planet of the Vampires. The great Italian director Mario Bava (maybe best known in the US for his brilliant and terrifying debut film Black Sunday) journeys into space to deliver one of the most deeply upsetting movies I've seen in a while.
Two ships, the Argos and the Galliot, are exploring deep space together. When the rockets receive a distress signal from a nearby planet, they must land on that planet to investigate. On the way down to the planet, the ships' crews begin to go crazy, as if possessed by an alien force, and try to kill each other. The captain of the Argos, Captain Markary (Barry Sullivan), keeps his wits about himself and is able to force sanity and stop the fighting on his ship. The other ship… well, we shall soon see their fate.
The Argos lands on a strange planet. Dig that colorful sky!
Both ships land on the surface of the planet, and what a strange surface it is. Eternally shrouded in fog, with glowing rocks and mysterious sounds, the planet seems wrapped in deep mystery, and as the crew investigates the planet and the fate of the Galliot, terrible horrors begin to bedevil both crews in their ships and on the planet itself. We soon discover the bodies of the Galliot's crew, shredded and bloodied. But despite their seemingly life threatening damage, the bodies rise again and begin walking around. The bodies even go outside the spaceship and spread their terror to both crews.
Bava does a brilliant job with many elements of this movie, elements which add smartly to the viewer's deep feeling of disquiet. The astronauts' uniforms are beautiful. The cast wears well-fitting leather jumpsuits with high collars that seem practical but also strange. The cockpits of the ships are surprisingly spacious, with a lot of open space on them, which gives a strange sense of alienness to anyone used to cramped rocket capsules. The film is also deeply, eerily quiet, with just a few electronic noises to accentuate the horror. The deep silence seems to accentuate the tension, making viewers feel a deep sense of unease.
I think these uniforms are about the most beautiful in sci fi.
There's one sequence in which Bava's artistry really shines. In one intriguing set-piece, Captain Markary and his right-hand assistant Sanya (Norma Bengell) discover an enormous spacecraft which appears to have been trapped on the planet for seemingly thousands of years. Bava does brilliant work with perspective in these scenes, emphasizing the miniscule size of the humans in the midst of this bizarre alien craft. And as befits a master of horror films, Bava presents the craft as looking incredibly strange and dislocating for both the viewers and the crew. It's old and looks decayed, with paint peeling and nature taking over the edges of the ship. Their exploration leads to a fascinating deathtrap unlike any I've seen before in film. It also makes the viewer wonder, profoundly, that if creatures this large can be killed by the residents of this planet, what chance do humans have?
The giant alien on the strange abandoned ship
The creatures on this planet aren't vampires in our usual sense of the word (perhaps they're energy vampires or body possessors or something else slightly ineffable). But that lack of definition makes the creatures more frightening. These vampires are a constant, eerie threat that both viewers and crew can't quite understand. We all know a cross and stake will kill Dracula, but we have no idea how to kill these vampires. That uncertainty makes the film more frightening. There seems to be no easy way out, and the ending helps reinforce that concept.
In fact, Bava and his crew also do something delightful in this movie: they deliver a twist ending, then another twist, and then yet another twist. Each of the twists feel earned because they are well foreshadowed and yet completely surprising. I want you to be surprised, too, so I won't ruin the fun. I will say this, though. For my money the best twists are the ones that leave the viewers giggling, and my girlfriend and I laughed our heads off at the twists.
The alien planet looks spookier because of all the fog
It seems the budget for this movie was incredibly small (a piece in last month's Famous Monsters reports it cost roughly $200,000 in American dollars to film this movie in Italy). It's intriguing how director Bava worked with his international cast. There are actors from Brazil, Italy, the US and Spain, and each spoke their native languages on set. Bava's team then dubbed their lines in the local language for prints distributed around the world. Brazilians heard Portuguese, Spaniards hear the movie in Spanish and Americans in English. Because everyone spoke a different language on set, the movie has an often dreamlike feel, as if the actors are speaking around each other. That feel helps give this film its unique and wonderful energy.
And though Bava didn't spend a lot on the sets or ships, he gets real value for his lira. Maybe it's the eternal fog that makes the planet surface so compelling, or maybe the colored lights, but the planet of the vampires looked way better than it should have. I felt pulled into the mystery of this movie because of its low budget. Now I want to see more Bava films!
Driving Home
On our way to her home from the drive-in, my girlfriend and I couldn't stop laughing about all the fun we had watching these movies. There's a certain thrill to finding out a movie is way better than you expect it to be. In fact, we had that excitement with both movies last weekend and I think you will, too.
I don't care how popular they are. I love my Mustang!
Hop in your Chev, Plymouth or Pontiac and catch these flicks at your local drive-in while you still can.
Well, so far this has been a great month. Last week saw the end of a dynamite World Series, in which Sandy Koufax, the greatest pitcher of his generation, showed himself to be one of the greatest Jews of his generation as well. It was tremendously meaningful to my family that Sandy refused to start Game 1 for the Dodgers against the Minnesota Twins since the day coincided with our holy day of Yom Kippur.
As Sandy said, "I've taken Yom Kippur off every year for the last 10 years. It was just something I've always done out of respect."
As if that wasn't good enough, Koufax dominated games 5 and 7 of the series, with his electric fastball mowing down batters in a pair of crucial shutout victories. The Twins played well, and were outstanding American League champs – Tony Oliva is a monster – but it seems the Koufax gave the Dodgers the edge, and turned the '65 Series into a classic.
At the movie theatre, my wife and I caught The Bedford Incident last week at our favorite theatre here in north Seattle. If you haven't had a chance to see it yet, the film is well worth a night out — if, that is, you can handle an intense and sometimes bleak drama.
Richard Widmark turns in a powerful performance as a zealous battleship captain on the search for an elusive Soviet nuclear submarine. Also featuring Sidney Poitier and Martin Balsam, this black and white drama treads similar ground to last year's thrilling Fail Safe and ends in a similarly dramatic way.
If it seems like I'm dragging my feet a bit before talking about my entry for this month's Galactoscope, well, you're right. Gardner Fox's new novel is the epitome of mediocrity, a book that will give you 40¢ worth of excitement but not a whole lot more. The fantastic Mr. Fox is a prolific author who churns out more books and comic book stories than nearly anyone else living. Sometimes that causes him to create some delightful work. Other times it seems like he is just delivering words just to deliver him a paycheck. There's nothing necessarily wrong with that – I'm sure the man has a mortgage to pay – but it also represents a lost opportunity.
See, this book starts out with one of the most striking first lines I can remember.
I saw myself dying on the other side of the street.
The first page builds on that momentum, with the protagonist describing his body as "blood oozed over my fingers where I held that awesome wound."
I mean, seriously, how can you read a first page like that without feeling like you have to read more? Mr. Fox is an old pro and he clearly knows some classic tricks. As I read that book, I leaned back, took a deep breath, and readied myself for a page-turning thrill ride.
Cover by Gray Morrow
But, dear reader, I'm sorry to inform you that all the best writing in The Hunter Out of Time happens on the first couple of pages. It soon turns out that the man who falls to Earth is a time traveler from the far, far future who traveled back through a supposedly impregnable barrier to steal the man's identity. The time traveler is named Chan Dahl and soon other time-displaced men come to our time, confuse our guy, Kevin Cord for Dahl, and that unleashes the most obvious and cliched adventure you can imagine.
There's little in The Hunter Out of Time you haven't seen before. Fox gives us fantastic devices, headspinning time travel with seemingly arbitrary rules, and the obligatory beautiful, weak babe from the future. Of course Cord uses his native 20th century skills to overcome his opposition, of course Cord and the woman fall in love, and of course Fox leaves room for a sequel if somehow people want to read more of this frightfully ordinary pap.
I could go on and on about this book, but hey, it costs 40¢, it'll take you a couple hours to read, and it's got a pretty nice cover by artist Gray Morrow. I'd rather spend my time watching young Warren Beatty in Mickey One in the theatres, but you won't hate this book and it's pleasing enough entertainment for a rainy Seattle Sunday.
2 stars.
Solid Fuel
by John Boston
The rising star John Brunner has produced ambitious work such as The Whole Man and the upcoming The Squares of the City, both from Ballantine in the US, and a raft (or flotilla) of unpretentious upscale-pulp adventures for Ace Books. Some of the best of the latter were mined from the UK magazines edited by John Carnell.
by Jacks
But there’s a lot more. Brunner has been one of the mainstays of the UK magazines for a decade, but much of his best magazine work has not been reprinted because it’s too short for separate book publication and too long to fit in the usual anthologies or collections. The UK publisher Mayflower-Dell, previously distinguished by its unsuccessful attempt to bring Fanny Hill: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure to the British public, remedies a bit of this omission with Now Then, a collection of three novellas, two from the Carnell magazines and the other, his first professional sale, from Astounding in 1953.
The book opens with the energetically clever and creepy Some Lapse of Time, from Science Fantasy #57 (February 1963). Dr. Max Harrow is having a bad dream of a group of starving people living in ruins, one of whom is holding a human finger bone in his hand. He wakes and there is someone at his door: the police, because a tramp has collapsed in his garage. The tramp proves to be suffering a rare disease (heterochylia, an inability to metabolize fats, which become lethal) that Harrow is uniquely qualified to recognize, his infant son having died of it only recently, and which should have made it impossible for the tramp to survive to adulthood. The tramp also has clamped in his hand a human finger bone—the same bone, the end of the left middle finger, as in Harrow’s dream.
Unintelligible to the hospital staff, the tramp proves when examined by a philologist to speak a badly distorted version of English, like one might expect a primitive and isolated group to use. Meanwhile, Harrow’s marriage is blowing up under the emotional stress caused by his son’s death and his own preoccupation. When his wife slams the car door in his face, she catches his hand in the door and severs the end of his left middle finger, which falls down a gutter. Meanwhile, the tramp is sent for a head x-ray, but he turns out to be so radioactive that not only do the films turn out unusable but he has to be put in strict isolation.
Brunner brings all these elements to a thoroughly grotesque resolution—it doesn’t entirely work, but is a grimly ingenious nice try. Others apparently think so too; it is rumored that a dramatization will be broadcast later this year in the BBC’s Out of the Unknown TV series. Four stars.
Next up is Imprint of Chaos, also from Science Fantasy (#42, August 1960), one of a number of outright fantasies Brunner contributed to that underrated magazine. This one introduces us to a character mainly called “the traveler,” who we are repeatedly told has “many names but one nature,” unlike the rest of us who I suppose contain multitudes.
The traveler has been appointed (by whom, or Whom, or What is not explained) as a sort of metaphysical supervisor over part of the universe, charged with ensuring the primacy of order over chaos. He is on his way to Ryovora, a formerly sensible town where they have now decided they need a god.
So the traveler nips out to our Earth and snatches the unsuspecting Bernard Brown from a hike in the wood, tells him he’s unlikely to find his way home, but gives him directions to Ryovora. There, to his discomfiture, Brown is welcomed as a god, and when the next city over hears about it and sends over their god, Brown sends it packing in terror. Then the Ryovorans say they could have done it themselves (though they didn’t), and excuse Mr. Brown, after a final scene where he and the traveler bruit the futility and undesirability of magic.
A fantasy writer bad-mouthing magic may seem incongruous, but this rationalist in spite of himself really hates it, and comes not to praise magic but to bury it, though only after enough colorful magical episodes to entertain the rubes. Here the tension is more extreme than usual. His earlier fantasies mostly featured incursions of magic into the world of ordinary salt-of-the-earth types. Here, the entire setting is exotically magical, and the story is told in the fey and pompous cadences of high fantasy.
For example, from a conclave of the necromantic elite of Ryovora: “The Margrave nodded and made a comforting gesture in the air. He said, ‘But this cannot be the whole story. I move that we—here, now, in full council—ask Him Who Must Know.’” Brunner walks the edge of parody at times (“Tyllwin [a particularly powerful magician] chuckled, a scratching noise, and the flowers on the whole of one tree turned to fruit and rotted where they hung.”). But the story is clever and entertaining and merits its three stars, towards the high end.
Thou Good and Faithful is older; as mentioned, it is the first story Brunner sold to an SF magazine—and it was featured on the cover of the top-of-the-market Astounding (March 1953 issue). Moreover, the readers voted it best in the issue, and it was quickly picked up by Andre Norton for her pretty respectable YA anthology Space Pioneers. Not a bad start for an 18-year-old! Though Brunner has had some second thoughts about showing us his juvenilia; the acknowledgements note it appeared in the magazine “in a somewhat different form.” I haven’t compared the two texts, though there’s clearly some updating; in this version Brunner refers to something as “maser-tight,” and masers were barely invented when this story was first published.
The story is for most of its length a bog-standard though well-turned rendition of a basic plot: find a planet, there’s a mystery, what’s going on, are we scared? The mystery is an idyllic Earth-type planet inhabited only by robots, who presumably didn’t make themselves; what happened to the makers? The final revelation is partly in the direction of, say, Clarke’s Childhood’s End, and partly in the one suggested by the story’s title, so in the end it’s much more high-minded than the puzzle story it starts out as. This is all older news nowadays than it was in 1953, but it too merits a high three stars.
Summing Up
Now Then is a solid representation of the mid-length work of this very readable and thoughtful writer, and there’s enough in the Carnell back files for several more worthwhile volumes of Brunner novellas.
Two by Two
by Gideon Marcus
The Journey has made a commitment to review every piece of science fiction released in a year (or die trying). In pursuit of this goal, I've generally tried to finish every book I've started, and if unable to, I simply don't write about it.
It occurs to me, however, that the inability to finish a book is worth reporting on, too. And so, here are reports on two of this summer's lesser lights:
The latest from Madeline L'Engle, author of the sublime A Wrinkle in Time, starts promisingly. Adam Eddington is a freshman biology minor tapped to work with a Dr. O'Keefe on the Atlantic island of Gaia off the coast of Portugal. O'Keefe (a grown up Calvin, from Wrinkle) is working with starfish, zeroing in on an immortality treatment. Just prior to Adam's departure from Kennedy Airport, he runs across the beautiful young daughter of an industrialist, Kali, who warns Adam to stay away from the sinister-looking Canon Tallis, who is chaperoning the O'Keefes' precocious daughter, Poly.
Adam finds himself embroiled in international intrigue, not knowing who to trust. This is exciting at first, but a drag as things go on. Gone is the quietly lyrical prose of Wrinkle, replaced by a deliberately juvenile style leached of color. Events happen, one after another, but they are both difficult to keep track of and largely uninteresting. By the time Adam made it to Gaia, about halfway through the book, I found myself struggling to complete a page.
Andre Norton has come out with the long-awaited sequel to her parallel universe adventure, The Crossroads of Time, starring Blake Walker. The universe Walker lives in is a bit like that of Laumer's Imperium series and Piper's Paratime stories: there's one Earth that has mastered the art of crossing timelines, and it has built an empire across these alternate Earths.
On Vroom, the imperial timetrack, there had been a devastating war that killed most of the female population, making them particularly precious. Also, mutation has made psionic ability the rule rather than the exception. The timeline is ruled by an oligarchy of 100 meritocrats.
At the start of Crosstime, Walker is dispatched to assist Marfy, whose twin sister, Marva, has been lost amongst the timeless — and all signs point to a kidnapping. Of course, the allure of all parallel universe books is the exploration of what-if, and so Walker and Marfy's trek spans a dead Earth where life never arose, a strange saurian Earth where sentient turtles and lizardmen rule, and ultimately, an interesting timeline in which Richard III won the battle of Bosworth Field while Cortez lost the battle of Tenochtitlan. By the Mid-20th Century, there is a Cold War between Britain and the Aztec Empire along a militarized Mississippi river. It is to this world that Marfy and her abductors are tracked, and it turns out that the kidnapping is part of a plot to topple Vroom's Ancien Regime.
True to form as of late, Norton sets up some genuinely interesting background, but the characters are as flat as the pages they appear on. This time, I made it through two thirds of the book, partly on momentum from the first book in the series, which I rather enjoyed. In the end, however, disinterest won out.
I picked up the latest Ace Double Novel at my local Woolworth's the other day, and had to share my opinions of the two novels with my fine science fiction friends.
On one side of the double was the deliriously wacky cover shown below, which actually is a scene in John Rackham's meandering but intriguing new novel. By my reckoning, this is at least the third Ace double this prolific author has delivered over the last two years, and though I haven't read either Watch on Peter or Danger from Vega yet, this slim novel – a true Ace double at 137 pages – makes me want to try them out too.
The main character of We, the Venusians is Anthony Taylor, a man who feels himself out of place on a future version of Earth. Though the timing of that future isn't revealed in the novel, it's clear he lives in a bit of a dystopian world. Advertising is pervasive and unavoidable, commerce and greed rule the world, and the arts are trivialized and mocked.
This all matters because Taylor is an accomplished musician and the owner of a small club in which he plays Liszt, Schubert, Bach and the other classical artists to an ever-diminishing tribe of listeners. He is truly a man on the outside of his time. That's why he has a mixed reaction when a strange man wanders into Taylor's club and offers an obscene amount of money to travel to the Terran colony on Venus to play music, Taylor is both intrigued and repulsed by the opportunity. He is intrigued by chance to get rich quick and the chance to make a new start. Taylor is also repulsed by the idea because he has a secret he fears will be revealed on his new home: though his skin appears human color, he is actually a Greenie, a green-skinned Venusian native.
Through a series of plot machinations, Taylor does end up journeying to Venus along with two other musicians, one of whom, named Martha Merrill, is a beautiful woman who possesses an unbelievable singing voice. They also discover that the human colonists have enslaved thousands of apparently mindless Greenies to do menial labor in order to keep the colony buzzing along. Taylor and Merrill escape the human domes into the native lands, and both performers literally go native – Martha is also secretly a Venusian.
Though Merrill soon dies, Taylor finds his destiny among his own people and ends up becoming a force for revolution among his adopted people against the colonists.
One of the most intriguing elements of the book is the beans which grow on Venus and provide nutrition and energy for the people living there. While the Venusians protect their precious resource carefully, the humans try to exploit the beans and export the incredibly valuable food back to Terra. This element of the plot had an intriguing post-colonial feel to it. It's easy for the reader to substitute tobacco or silk as the exploited resource in our own history. It's a smart choice by Rackham to bring in that idea, as it adds resonance and contrast to the human/greenie struggle.
We, the Venusians is full of interesting ideas, from its resonances to the Civil Rights movement of today to its treatment of Indians in the west to the ways pop music overwhelms classics. Rackham keeps his story focused on character, and that keeps the reader involved in this novel. I enjoyed reading how Anthony Taylor grows and changes as this book goes along, and that growth gives this book a lot of its energy.
That said, the book rambles and wanders a bit too much and seems to frequently lose its focus. I know it's anathema to us fans of Ace doubles, but another 20 pages of meat would have made this book's bones stronger.
Fred Saberhagen is another science fiction writer who has settled into a journeyman status at this point. He's appeared in a number of the science fiction magazines in recent years, and his "Berserker" stories have started to gain more attention from aficionados. My colleague David Levinson has praised Saberhagen's ability to pull off modern fiction within the framework of space opera, and that skill is well on display in The Water of Thought.
Like We, the Venusians, Saberhagen's novel takes place on an alien planet on which native peoples are in conflict with Terrans. The planet Kappa is a kind of garden of Eden, a paradise and perfect place for rest and relaxation for exhausted Space Force planeteers. It's also the home to native peoples and a type of water which provides amazing changes in people. When a planeteer named Jones samples the water, he goes crazy and disappears from the colony. Planeteer Boris Brazil must follow to investigate.
Jones becomes megalomaniacal under the influence of the "water of thought", and rapidly becomes an addict. Jones is constantly seeking his next drink, like a heroin addict looking for his next fix. When Jones forces Brazil to drink the water, it has a different effect on him. Brazil is nearly paralyzed and loses his free will while in proximity to Jones, but does not become addicted. The battle between the two men, and the story of the humans and natives caught in the middle, is an important part of the book.
Like We theVenusians, this book has a natural resource as a key point of conflict between humans and Kappans as the water is seen by some as a resource to be exploited for personal gain. The human mayor of Kappa sells the water as a drug, trying to earn a neat profit off of a local resource. Meanwhile a human scientist has slightly more noble goals: he believes the water may help the local hominid species gain intelligence and gain their freedom from slavery by the natives.
The Water of Thought is a more complex book than it seems at first glance, and reveals some of the shallowness of Rackham's world. Where Rackham draws a pretty clear line between humans and greenies on Venus, Saberhagen presents Kappa as a more complex world. Kappa is a place where the lines between hero and villain are somewhat unclear, where everybody is exploiting each other in some ways, and in which the precious natural resource has ambiguous effects.
This book adroitly shows Saberhagen's skills at mixing space opera elements with a psychological and philosophical elements. The Water of Thought feels contemporary for our year of 1965, a time in which the smartest people are embracing ideas of the past but providing new approaches to those ideas.
4 stars.
Gamma #5: The Worst Sci-fi Magazine Ever Published?
by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall
Back in the early 1950s, when the market was flooded with magazines, there used to be plenty of forgettable magazines that would crank out terrible stories. Whilst it may be possible my memory is cheating me, I cannot recall a single issue as awful as this issue of Gamma:
This terrible issue of Gamma starts as it means to go on with another lurid cover from John Healey. I had hoped the style from the last issue was just due to it being a special edition calling back to the 30s, apparently this is the direction the magazine is going, with it illustrating the lead novella.
John Healey himself is a talented artist apparently working on shows like Johnny Quest, so I more question the editorial choice than his skill.
Now, take a deep breath, and let us all work together to get through this issue:
Nesbit, by Ron Goulart
Taking up nearly half the magazine, the perpetually disappointing Ron Goulart returns as, apparently, the editors simply cannot resist his writing. Once again, I find my eyebrow raised at this assertion.
This novella follows an attempt to shoot a pilot for a “jungle series”. When the Hollywood lot turns out to be in use Tim McCarey goes to visit Vincent Belgraf’s estate, to convince him to let them use his transplanted jungle for the shoot. However, on arriving he cannot get ahold of Mr. Belgraf and the other residents tell him it is not for rent.
Tim believes something else is amiss and finds a gorilla running around the estate in a soldier’s outfit. It turns out that this is Nesbit Belgraf. After being attacked by his own private army he had his brain transplanted into that of a gorilla, so he will be strong enough to become emperor of the United States and battle the unseen forces secretly controlling everyone’s lives.
Whilst Tim does not agree with this fascist conspiracy-minded gorilla and his family, he agrees to help with his propaganda efforts in exchange for being able to use part of the jungle for filming. However, Nesbit is very emotional and has difficulty keeping his cool.
I have trouble working out what Goulart is trying to do with this piece. If it is a satire on fascism and right-wing conspiracy theories, it fails. For, apart from Nesbit being a gorilla, it feels more like a documentary piece, as I am fully aware of the existence of those who believe in Jewish-Communist conspiracies controlling the world. It never does anything to really contradict what the Brelgrafs say, nor even to particularly suggest that their plans to put all non-white people into concentration camps or exterminate them, is as horrific as it really is.
If it is trying to be just an adventure story, it also fails. Intelligent gorilla stories are two-a-penny in comic books but are usually mindlessly enjoyable. This is incredibly dull and padded, full of side details that another might make charming, yet Goulart makes unbelievably tedious.
I could imagine many interesting ways a more skilled writer could have taken this piece, but instead Goulart produces something truly dreadful.
An exceptionally low One Star.
Policy Conference, by Sylvia Dees and Ted White
Peter and The Chief meet in the latter’s office to discuss how they could improve “interregional relations” for their boss Old Nick (I offer no prizes for guessing who that actually is).
Whilst this story is more supernatural than science fictional it weirdly has the same conceit as the previous tale, of someone having to work on PR for a monster. It just helps highlight how unoriginal a concept this is. Mercifully, this one is very short.
One Star
We get the return of the unrelated sketches. Depressingly they are better than the actual text.
Auto Suggestion, by Charles Beaumont
Returning from the earlier issues of Gamma (publishing the best story in issue 1) The Twilight Zone writer brings a story of automobiles. Unfortunately, this is definitely not his best work.
Abnar Llewellyn, a nervous driver, suddenly finds his car talking to him and it encourages him to be a more aggressive on the roads. It also starts to interfere in other areas on Abnar’s life, asking out women for him and instructing him on how to commit crimes.
I have gone on record saying I am no lover of cars, and so tales like this generally leave me cold. However, even accounting for that, I felt the story was bad. It is painfully overwritten to the point of being juvenile:
A truck’s air horn began some car lengths away. A frightening sound, a terrible sound, like the scream of a wounded elephant, and it led other smaller cars to renew their anger, shrill now beneath the dump-truck’s might below, shrill and chittering, like arboreal creatures gone mad.
Even Lovecraft would probably tell him he needed to cut out some description!
It also ends up not doing anything particularly interesting, just being a story where the protagonist does unpleasant things and may or may not be insane.
One Star
Welcome to Procyon IV, by Chester H. Carlfi
This is not a new writer to these pages but, rather, another story by longtime editor Charles E. Fritch, contributing his 4th story to the magazine.
In this vignette, Jameson and his wife are the last people left alive on the dead world of Porycon IV, with humans having wiped out the natives and disease killing the rest of the human population. On his ancient radio Jameson hears a human expedition coming but when they come to in to his cabin they discover a terrible truth about Jameson’s wife.
This feels like a pale imitation of Ray Bradbury’s Martian stories. It is more competent than the previous two pieces in the magazine, but a lot remains heavily unexplained. Also including a genocide in one line without any further thought left a bad taste in my mouth.
One and a half stars
Interest, by Richard Matheson
Cathryn is to be married to Gerald Cruickshank, yet find his parents and their house terrifying. However, she cannot work out why that is.
As stated in the introduction, this is a Poe-esque tale, although the purpose of it escapes me. Feels more like a derivative work you would find in a bad fanzine.
One Star
Another sketch, holding my interest much more than Matheson’s story did.
Lullaby and Goodnight, by George Clayton Johnson
In the aftermath of a nuclear war, an outpost of shelters is setup outside of an unnamed city. Our narrator (also unnamed) talks about the trouble Sarah Hartman is having with trying to keep her baby Adam alive in the radiation-soaked world.
This vignette marks a short foray into the New Wave from the usually conservative Gamma. It is not the best example, but the melancholic atmosphere raises it above the rest of the stories here.
This is a reprint from New Detective Magazine from almost 19 years ago and, unfortunately, it shows.
It narrates the story of a haemophiliac author, named Rob, who keeps being sent sharp objects in the mail, in an attempt to stop his book from being published.
I know Bradbury is popular right now, but do we have to reprint everything he did in his early days? The truth is he has evolved as a writer and most of his work before 1950 is simply not that good!
This is not really a science fiction or fantasy piece, but I suppose it could be classified as uncanny horror. Unfortunately, it lacks anything interesting, it seems more like a sequence of unusual events, like reading someone’s disconnected nightmare.
The story is written in a pale imitation of Raymond Chandler’s hard-boiled style along with a second person narration. Whilst I do like experimentation this one fails for me.
Two stars
The Late Mr. Adams, by Steve Allen
Another reprint, this time from the publisher’s own collection, Fourteen for Tonight. This is my first experience with Mr. Adams' writings myself, although I hear he is big television personality in the United States.
This is a very silly life-story of a man who is always late. Really, that is all there is to it.
One Star
Wet Season, by Dennis Etchison
Etchison is generally a middling new writer. Shows promise but I am still waiting for a story that astounds me. Unfortunately, this is not it.
In a town there have been an unusually high number of drownings and the women seem to be acting strangely. At the same time rainfall levels are apparently increasing. After Madden’s daughter dies his Brother Bart comes to tell him of his suspicions.
Etchison really seems to like his Puppet Masters style stories and this is another one in that mold. I am willing to concede that it has a good atmosphere but that is all I am going to give.
A low two stars
I love this illustration. Why couldn’t this have been one of the pieces inside?
Summing Up
This issue of the magazine is truly terrible. Some stories are not as bad as the others, but it would be a stretch to say anything is actually good.
I am beginning to feel foolish that I took out a subscription from issue 2, as I have already paid for more of these. However, if the quality continues like this, I find it hard to imagine this magazine continuing much beyond that.
That's all for today, folks! Join us next month for another exciting Galactoscope!
and…
Our next Journey Show: At the Movies, is going to be a blast!
Yesterday I had the special pleasure of seeing my favorite band on the big screen once again. Of course, I'm talking about the Beatles and Help!. You gotta see it. Let me tell you, folks, the film is a laugh riot. I giggled all the way through the silly tale which has Ringo Starr chased throughout the world because he possesses a ring which is a sacred relic for a Far Eastern cult. The music is wonderful, of course, but it's also a tremendously silly flick, wackier than A Hard Day's Night. I know you've already bought the LP (which, sadly, is only about half by the Fab Four) but great as the album is, the movie is so much better. Go see Help! while you can! I certainly plan to watch it again.
Sadly, while the Beatles' Help! rides the top of the world's music charts and marks another high point in the career of the Beatles, another Help! is breathing its last and represents a low point in another man's career. Thankfully both versions of Help! have brought me a lot of laughs.
Maybe you've seen Help! magazine on the stands next to Redbook and Look and were curious about this strange-looking mag. Maybe you even picked up an issue, perhaps the May 1965 issue with the humorous cover below, and giggled at the weird and wonderful material inside it. Sadly, the latest issue of Help! will be its last. The death of this very special mag has an interesting history well worth sharing. I hope you'll read along and discover why you should seek Help! magazine in the back issue bins and join me in mourning its passing.
MADman Harvey Kurtzman
Before we talk about Help! itself, let's talk about its editor, a genius by the name of Harvey Kurtzman. Kurtzman created, edited and orchestrated the glory days of MAD magazine as published by the late, lamented E.C. Comics. Under Kurtzman, MAD was a brilliant skewering of American comics, TV series, movies and life in general. Who can forget his absurdly silly "Superduperman", which skewered the Man of Steel with delighted glee and the so-many-jokes-you-have-to-squint-to-read-them-all art by Wallace Wood and Will Elder or any of a hundred equally scathing and brilliant satires?
The first 23 issues of MAD were published in comic book form by E.C., before moving to the familiar magazine format. Reportedly, MAD is one of the bestselling mags in the country these days, but, sadly, Kurtzman was unable to share in the profits from his creation. According to interviews with Kurtzman and his peers which appeared in E.C. fanzines, the editor had a falling-out with publisher William M. Gaines which resulted in Kurtzman abandoning his creation and creating a mag closer to his own vision.
Or, to be more precise, Kurtzman created a series of mags closer to his own vision. The first of those new magazines, dubbed Trump, was a gorgeously printed magazine, featuring slick and art (often painted in oils) on glossy paper. Published by Hugh Hefner of Playboy fame, Trump was a smart, sophisticated publication. Sadly, it fell victim to a cash crunch in Hefner's business and went out of business after only two issues. A second, similar mag, named Humbug, was self-funded but failed to find an audience, perhaps because it was poorly printed on cheap newsprint.
Thankfully, help came to Kurtzman from an unexpected source. Philadelphia-based James Warren, publisher of Famous Monsters and similar mags, was a big fan of Kurtzman's work. After a brief negotiation, Kurtzman had his fourth shot at creating a humor mag, though he would have to make some compromises. Budgets were tighter and production values shoddier than Humbug. But making a virtue of necessity, the great editor was able to produce a magazine unique on American newsstands.
Help for Tired Minds
Premiering with an issue cover-dated August 1960, Help! offered a different vision from Kurtzman's previous mags. For one thing, Warren's budgets forced compromises which clearly both pinched and intrigued the expert editor. Instead of drawn covers, for instance, Help! often featured photos of comedians on their covers doing silly things. With well-known celebs like Ernie Kovacs, Sid Caesar and Jerry Lewis on the first three covers, the mag made a clear and simple implied pitch: if readers enjoyed these stars on TV, they would also enjoy reading Help!.
Inside the magazine, readers were treated to a hodgepodge of different material. Help! was a freewheeling magazine in which every page turn provided an unexpected treat. Some features were immutable. Every issue had a fumetti, or photo comic strip, in which actors (as well as Kurtzman, his assistant Gloria Steinem, Chicago comedian and radio personality Jean Shepard, and actors such as young Brit John Cleese) played parts in a comedy sketch presented like a comic strip. Some of those fumetti were goofy and some were strange, but Kurtzman deserves credit for trying something very different from the norm in order to fill his pages.
That said, Help! also included work every reader would expect, including outstanding strips by some of America's funniest cartoonists. Jack Davis worked for Help! at the same time he worked for the ongoing MAD. So did Arnold Roth, and Will Elder, and John Severin, and the list went on. Many issues featured some of their finest comics work. The staff wasn't limited to Kurtzman's old pals, either. Young cartoonists included Gilbert Shelton, who brought his manic "Wonder Wart-Hog" strips from the University of Texas newspaper to this mag.
Some of the finest work in the magazine was provided by Kurtzman himself. His "Goodman Beaver" strips, the tales of a young
naïf adrift in the baffling corporate world, is a legitimate side-splitter as well as a scathing satire of American professionalism and greed. "Beaver" can also be read as a hilariously bitter spit in the eye of a world Kurtzman dreamed of inhabiting but for which his own hubris would not allow him to experience.
As if that wasn't enough, Kurtzman also included a generous collection of text humor. Works by Jean Shepard, Paul Dehn, William Price Fox, and many others, appeared every issue. One of the most important features of the mag demonstrated Kurtzman's commitment to the younger generation. The ongoing "Help!'s Public Gallery" feature included art by artists who were building their skills. I was especially impressed by the energy and verve of above page by young R. Crumb, who looks like he will be going places. I've also enjoyed work in the Public Gallery by such new artists as Jay Lynch, Skip Williamson and Terry Gilliam.
No More Help from Harvey Kurtzman
Sadly, though, a circulation of roughly 115,000 copies per issue was just not enough to keep Help! alive. With issue number 26, on stands this month, Kurtzman's latest passion project has faded away like his previous projects. Thankfully it went under with perhaps the finest issue so far, which includes a shockingly hilarious satire of southern bigotry called "Brother, Have You Stomped a Nigra" by Terry Gilliam and Dave Crossley. This humor has a vicious bite and perfectly encapsulates the influence Kurtzman has had over the younger generation of cartoonists. It seems to speak to the times we live in, the struggles over the Civil Rights Act, and the never-ending power of Dixie. Hopefully the racism mocked here will be gone in the next few years. It's hard to imagine systematic racism surviving the next 20 years, let alone the 20th century.
Help! was a worthy failure, but a failure nonetheless. Reports have Glliam moving to England, perhaps to work on a project with Cleese, while Kurtzman will continue his Little Annie Fanny strips for Playboy. Meanwhile, publisher James Warren is replacing Help! with a new horror mag named Creepy. Issue #4 of that mag was also recently released and features work by some of Kurtzman's follow alumni. But that's a story for another column.
Hmm… wonder if there's still time to catch a matinee today of the Beatles film…
Today is Independence Day, traditionally celebrated with a dazzling pyrotechnic display. And so it is appropriate that the book I'm sharing with you today deals with the biggest bang humanity can make: the atomic bomb.
I use astonishing in all its meanings: it's surprising, it's impressive, it's full of constant surprises, and Dr. Bloodmoney left me a bit breathless when I finished it.
This is also a weird book. Even for Philip K. Dick, who has written some of the oddest science fiction books in recent years (heck, just look at my review of his Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldrich for one very recent example), this book is… well, very strange indeed.
But that strangeness makes it endearing, and a compulsive page turner, and, oh heck, let's just dive into my uncategorized thoughts.
How We Got Along Before the Bomb
Many of Philip Dick's short stories and novels start after the atom bomb is dropped and mankind is looking to pick up the pieces. For instance, his outstanding Penultimate Truthdelivers a post-atomic world of claustrophobic underground burrows and vast overground demesnes.
Dick takes a different approach with Dr. Bloodmoney, setting up the world before the bomb drops with three chapters depicting what seem to be rather prosaic events. We witness a strange man visit a psychologist, see a vaguely annoyed salesman, watch a phocomelus achieve his dream job of fixing TV sets. All this scene setting feels normal and yet also weirdly off-kilter, as if the world is about to change and as if all this seeming normalcy is about to get swept away and as if the characters, deep in their beings, need that normalcy to be swept away in a way that it will never be resurrected.
As always with Dick, however, that apparent normalcy is an illusion, a lie people tell themselves to prevent themselves from madness. Dick's characters are almost always miserable and complicated. They are obsessed with existential doubt and a general frustration at their positions in the world. For one relevant instance, the man going to the psychologist is named Bruno Bluthgeld, who has good reason to need help. As his psychologist realizes in a moment of epiphany:
This is Bruno Bluthgeld, the physicist. And he is right; a lot of people both here and in the East would like to get their hands on him because of his miscalculation back in 1972. Because of the terrible fallout from the high-altitude blast, which wasn't supposed to hurt anyone; Bluthgeld's figures proved it in advance.
The salesman, Stuart McConchie by name, is also deeply unhappy for reasons around envy, ambition and stymied luck due to race (McConchie is black, a fact the book dwells on to its detriment). Dr. Bloodmoney opens with McConchie sweeping the sidewalk in front of the shop he works at. All the while he ponders the misery of Bluthgeld and feels vague jealousy for the happiness of the phocomelus.
That Thalidomide baby is named Hoppy Harrington, and we soon find out he's one of the few characters in this novel who's not filled with miserable existential doubts. Hoppy seems to have telekinetic powers like Manfred Steiner in Dick's great Martian Time-Slip, and we see him fix appliances without having to use his cumbersome metal arms. Hoppy's powers will take on more importance after the inevitable atom bomb drops.
How We Got Along During the Bomb
Dick's depiction of the events while the bombs are dropping is typical for him: weird, astonishing and striking for its subjective way of depicting the nuclear holocaust.
As the bombs are dropping over Dick's beloved Berkeley, we witness each character's reactions to the events. I was especially struck by this interior monologue from the psychologist Doctor Stockstill:
And then, in the middle of his cursing, he had a weird, vivid notion. The war had begun and they were being bombed and would probably die, but it was Washington dropping bombs on them, not the Chinese or the Russians; something had gone wrong with an automatic defense system out in space, and it was acting out its cycle this way — and no one could halt it, either. It was war and death, yes, but it was error; it lacked intent.
Even as people flee the city in terror, have a final, quick, end-of-the world-so-why-not sexual fling in the back of a car, and consider their futures, still it is clear to these characters that this calamity is the result of a simple accident. It seems to be random chance, a bug in the military's ENIAC that triggers the bombs. Considering we all have the near-death experience of the Cuban Missile Crisis in our recent memories, this "friendly fire" experience is even more terrifying.
And yet, this is a Phil Dick novel we're talking about here, so nothing is quite as simple as it seems.
How We Got Along After the Bomb
In the world after the bomb drops, the most astonishing thing is how normal things feel for readers — at least at the beginning of that segment of the story. It is seven years after E Day, as the people call the day of the holocaust, and the world has been changed in innumerable ways. Rats are smart, cats gather in gangs, dogs can talk, and the people are barely getting by on a subsistence basis.
This section of the book focuses on a small community in Marin County which includes most of the characters from earlier in the book. McConchie is part of the town, still working as a salesman, and is miserable (we witness a deeply humiliating failure he has trying to buy electronics early in this segment of the story). Dr. Bluthgeld is in the town, under an assumed name, living with his existential misery. The couple who had furtive sex, Bonny Keller and Andrew Gill, also live in the area. Gill has become a kind of cigarette magnate while Keller has become a kind of civic leader. Bonny became pregnant during her tryst with Andrew, and she gave birth to a very strange set of twins who become central to the story's plot.
Hoppy Harrington is also in Marin, working as the town's all-around fix-up man. In a weird way, the Bomb has made Hoppy's disabilities more normal. In a world in which few people escaped deep scarring from the bombs, Harrington is no longer an outcast as a man with no arms or legs. Instead, as a trusted oracular figure, he's able to be content and grow arrogant in his place in the world. It's striking that one of the few characters in this novel – heck, one of the few characters in Dick so far – who is genuinely happy turns out to be the antagonist of the novel.
Central to the novel is the one character outside of the small Marin County village. Walt Dangerfield had been on his way to Mars when the bombs fell. Trapped orbiting the Earth, his folksy way of speaking ("Hoode Hoode Hoo! Now let me give you a tip on how to store gladiola bulbs all through the winter without fear of annoying pests.") and love of sharing reading to a world desperate for entertainment, Dangerfield unites the world to listen to his voice like FDR used to unite us all with his fireside chats.
It's in this section of the novel that I found myself more and more enraptured in the world Dick creates. In his beautifully flat and unadorned style, Dick is brilliant at conveying character with just a few words. Emotions, motivations, passions and fears seem to radiate off the page from these characters. It feels like Dick wrote in a frenzy, these characters living in three dimensions in his vastly creative mind. Characters grow, change, evolve. McConchie slowly becomes content; Hoppy slowly becomes resentful; the twins grow from being an oddball curiosity to the moral centers of this tale. There's a sense of plot, character and setting oozing out between words, a parallel universe Dick sees through his imagination's gateway. Though this is a short book, it carries the heft of a book twice its length, and in the West Marin township, Dick slowly and shambolically leads to a fascinating conclusion in which Hoppy's ambitions prove to be his tragic fall like a Greek hero too filled with pride.
Some readers may not love the way the main plot of the story mainly wraps up offscreen, but the events leading up to it are rendered so beautifully by Dick that I scarcely cared. There is a scene near the end of this novel, depicted through the eyes of an owl, that was so lyrical that for a moment I thought I was reading Ray Bradbury instead of Philip K. Dick.
In The End
This is the fifth Dick book to be released in the last 18 months. It appears the man's work continues to improve. I was deeply moved and impressed by this novel. The characters are vivid, the events powerful, and Dick's wonderfully subjective way of showing action is unique in my experience. Dr. Bloodmoney is an astonishing achievement.
5 stars, and for me this is the leading candidate for the Hugo Award for Best Novel so far this year.
Above I described Dick's writing as beautifully flat and unadorned, and that's true, but this book also ends on a lovely note which speaks to the curious optimism and faith in the human spirit which runs throughout this book.
The business of the day had begun. All around her the day was awakening, back once more into its normal life.
In the wake of an atom bomb, life slowly returns to its new normal. Humanity will bounce back from even the worst we can imagine. It's hard to get more optimistic than that. In these troubled times, we all need to be reminded to be optimistic.
On the subject of books, please go to this article and give it a read. It's as important now as it was when it was posted — perhaps more. It's been a tough few months.
Secret agent mania is everywhere these days. After the gilt-edge success of Goldfinger last year, the passion for dashing, daring, handsome men of action has reached a fever pitch. I’ve been picking up paperbacks of Matt Helm, Nick Carter, John LeCarre and even Doc Savage at my local Woolworths, devouring the thrilling adventures of these men of action, ready with a quick shot, a fast woman and a speedy sportscar.
I’ve also been passionately watching The Man from U.N.C.L.E. on NBC. I love so many of the quirks of that show – setting the entrance to UNCLE HQ inside a flower shop, for instance, as well as the dashing agents Solo and Kuryakin and the whole larger-than-life setting of it all.
Comics have had their share of secret agents over recent years, too, from “John Force, Magic Agent” appearing in the back pages of American Comics Group’s Unknown Worlds late last year to the spy adventures of Charlton’s new Sarge Steel (which includes impressive art by an up-and-comer named Dick Giordano – watch that name, folks) to a two issue DC pilot spotlight on spy King Faraday in last year’s Showcase #50 and 51 (albeit reprints from 1950, in the latter case – DC has never been a company known for their innovation).
But no comics company has fully jumped on the spy trend, not in the way it cries out for.
Until, that is, this month’s issue of Strange Tales, starring a super spy named Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.
The great Stan Lee and Jack Kirby deliver one of the most intriguing, exciting, whizzbang first adventures of any comic story in recent memory, full of bizarre gadgets, nasty villains and a dynamic dollop of mighty Marvel action.
As if they felt constrained by their small twelve-page allocation in this issue, Kirby and Lee deliver a story in which everyone seems to be moving at top speed, showing off cool gadgets, discussing nasty spy rings, showing flying cars and flying aircraft carriers and all the other trappings of a great adventure tale. Even in large set-pieces, like the scene above (which looks oddly like a key location in last year’s film Doctor Strangelove), it seems every character has their own bit of business to take care of, their own set of a million tasks to accomplish and no time to complete them. These are busy, important men on the mission to save the Earth, and they will work together with everything they have in order to defeat the evil organization Hydra.
At the center of it all is good ol’ Nick Fury, twenty years removed from leading the Howling Commandos, now promoted from sergeant all the way up to colonel, with an eye patch over his left eye and an everpresent stogie in his mouth. Fury acts as the reader proxy in the story, leading us to discover just what in the world he is getting himself involved with – heck, even as he’s strapped into a bed with wires taped all over his nearly naked body, Fury is wondering “what in blazes is going on?”
What is going on, Col. Fury, is that you’ve been recruited to a super spy agency, the Supreme Headquarters International Espionage Law-enforcement Division by name – ignore that extra “E” please. SHIELD seems constantly under attack – as we discover on page three of this all-out action thriller, in the space of seven seconds, robot versions of Fury are attacked by evil doers – including one who has a gun hidden in a mailbox (I would hate to be the mailman working that route!) We soon witness Fury’s car attacked by a fiery missile before the wheels of the sports car transform into jets which transport our hero to an astounding floating fortress.
And those villains! Hydra seems to be an equal match for SHIELD, with astonishing technology, a vicious hatred for humanity, and – seriously – the greatest motto I can remember at a spy agency (and evil women, too – wonder if Nick Fury can turn Agent H to the good side!
Lee and Kirby have been growing a reputation for unstoppable, hurtling action but this tale takes that energy to a whole new level.
I do want to briefly mention that this story only takes up half the issue, and if “Agent of SHIELD” is an extrovert’s delight, “Doctor Strange” is just as much an introvert’s thrill. Drawn by Kirby’s opposite, Steve Ditko, this issue finds our sorcerer supreme on the hunt for the mysterious meaning of “eternity.” Just check out that gorgeous splash page below and contrast its brooding intensity with the dynamic thrills of the Nick Fury splash. Both are amazing work by men at the top of their talent but they each offer very different visions.
Fury’s world is one of men walking, talking and shooting. The men in that story look around – often to the reader – with a sense of purpose and energy. In Strange’s world, however, men and women look around furtively, live in almost unknowable strange worlds, are communicating secretly. If Nick Fury is like James Bond, Stephen Strange is like a hero from a Philip Dick or John Brunner novel, cursed by his greater knowledge and abilities to fight a lonely war.
Together, these two series provide about as dramatic a contrast in styles as any comic I can remember. What a welcome and unique issue. Strange Tales #135 is a good example of why I'm quickly becoming more and more inclined to Make Mine Marvel!
The Fury Out of Time is an fun page turner, with some clever ideas and some wacky plot machinations. It's a delight to read author Lloyd Biggle, Jr. playfully juggle interesting ideas around time paradoxes, odd alien creatures and the Mesozoic era while keeping his story roaring and skidding through the clouds like a runaway UFO.
The book focuses on Bowden Karvel, a retired Air Force Major, discharged from the astronaut corps because of his artificial leg and organically confrontational attitude. Karvel lives just outside the gates of his former Air Force Base, quietly drinking and marking time. One day Karvel wanders down to Whistler’s Country Tavern to bend his elbow. As Karvel is sitting on the tavern patio looking over the nearby valley, something very strange happens. Trees start being knocked down in a widening spiral and Karvel is mildly injured in what feels like a natural disaster but actually is far from that simple idea.
Taking on efforts to lead the recovery effort after this apparent hurricane hits, Karvel begins barking out orders, and finds himself becoming inexorably dragged into a mystery which will take him to the moon and across tens of thousands of years of history. He will literally become a new version of himself, emotionally, physically and spiritually, will encounter creatures he scarcely could have imagined existing, and will uncover the mystery which knocked him off his feet in the first place. By being knocked off his feet, Bowden Karvel eventually finds himself able to truly stand on his own two feet once again.
The cause of the disaster is a flying saucer, which Biggle cleverly calls a UO (as opposed to a UFO), which readers slowly learn was created by time travelers from the future – though those travelers may actually be from the past. It’s complicated, and we get to learn how complicated as we dig further into this wacky book.
Part of the fun of this novel comes from Biggle’s clever depictions of different societies in this book. It seems obvious that the author served in the military based on his humorous depictions of the crazily dysfunctional Air Force leadership. Biggle's strong imagination is also on display in the future world in which the bodies of mankind's descendants have evolved in clever ways. In that future world, people are taller and balder than people today, have flatter feet and they even an odd fetish about beards, of all things. I enjoyed Karvel’s inner monologues about that world, and how he wonders about standards of beauty and enslavement.
Similarly, when Karvel travels to a past era when dinosaurs walk the earth, he encounters a race of Hras, very strange creatures with six arms, no faces and stomachs in their bellies. These creatures become Karvel’s allies, but their relationship is complicated. That relationship is surprisingly three-dimensional compared with the classic imperialist-styled science fiction of the past. The way Biggle depicts the relationship between Karvel and the Hras, it’s not clear who the wiser hero is – the one who charges into the middle of a group of dinosaurs or the one who’s too scared to journey far into a world full of predators.
Since we see everything through Karvel’s eyes, I suppose it’s a little wrongheaded to complain the book feels a bit shallow at times. There’s a decided focus on action, and it’s fun to see a middle-aged, slightly disabled guy at the center of trying to figure out the strange worlds in which he finds himself. The thing is, Karvel is smart and clever. He’s not a headstrong James Bond type, always ready for action. He’s an older, slightly broken man who constantly finds his basic value system challenged by the strange circumstances in which he finds himself. It's in the way Karvel reacts that we readers see ourselves and which ultimately pushes this novel ahead.
I didn’t expect to enjoy this book as much as I did. I wasn’t familiar with Biggle's work and was concerned that a book with a UFO at its center would be full of clichés. Instead this book was a light, breezy, and fun ride, a delightful little book which moves along like the Road Runner.
Three stars.
A Man of Double Deed, by Leonard Daventry
by Gideon Marcus
A fringe benefit of having so many fellow writers on the Journey is the ability to read more of the science fiction that's coming out every month. Contrary to forlorn declarations of the doom-sayers, the genre is far from dead. Moreover, new authors are coming into SF all the time.
To wit, Leonard Daventry has just released his first book, A Man of Double Deed, and it's surprisingly mature for a first effort.
Here is the plot, in brief:
Claus Coman is a "keyman," part of a network of powerful telepaths living on Earth in the year 2090. In this far-future time, humanity has already had and recovered from an atomic conflagration that left the planet in ruins. We have spread among the stars, meeting several alien races, though they do not figure in this story. What does figure is a burgeoning plague of violence spreading among the young and disaffected populace. Whether it is a genuine biological malaise or simply a reaction to a society that has become too staid to endure is not known. Coman supports a proposal to emigrate these malcontents to a new world, one where they can create a society to their liking.
But there are forces that strongly oppose this proposal, and keymen in general. Forces with murderous intent. Coman must navigate attempts on his life as well as bigger political currents to see the proposal through.
What makes Deed so distinctive is its unique vision of the future. It's definitely a "New Wave" book with unorthodox depictions of romance and sexuality. In the future, "free love" is the norm, and committed relationships viewed as quaint aberrations. Coman's polyamory, involving two women, is particularly deviant. On the other hand, same-sex pairings are not so much as blinked at.
Daventry does an excellent job of incorporating the third-person omniscient viewpoint, subtly sliding into many characters' minds. This is a trick that doesn't usually work, particularly in Frank Herbert's Dune, where it simply comes off as amateurish. But it's effective in Deed, suggestive of the telepathic contact Comay has with everyone he interacts with. I also appreciate how Daventry describes in a sentence or two scenes of violence and/or sexual relations, conveying a subject vividly but not luridly, effectively invoking the reader's imagination.
Deed is by no means a perfect book. It starts well but loses steam in the final third. Worse, it doesn't really have an ending; the plot is left open only halfway through its course. On a more personal note, as progressive as some aspects of the depicted future may be, it still seems a highly male-dominated world. Women are definitely in a second class, both in their agency, and screen-time. Part of that seems intentional, underscoring the conservative nature of 2090's Earth, but part of it also seems to be the result of Daventry's own instincts.
On the other hand, if Deed be part of a series, like Delany's Toron trilogy, then I may have to revise my opinion. For the nonce, I give it three and a half stars.
And here's a special entry submitted by a fan of the Journey. The book dates back to 1959, but I understand it has been recently reprinted. Since the Journey did not cover it upon first release, we are remedying this omission…
I happened on Ossian's Ride in the drug store’s spinning book rack. I will occasionally find a science fiction book there, but Neldner’s Card Shop in the Point Loomis shopping center is my go to place for the latest sf books from Ace, Pyramid, Ballantine, and Berkley. The cover of Ossian's Ride showed a hand with an open pocket watch. Inside the watch is a rather artsy illustration of a fellow about to throw a flaming molotov cocktail at a cottage with two silhouettes in the window. And oh, yes, there appears to be a body at his feet. In fact, the only science fiction thing about the cover, is “Fred Hoyle the author of A For Andromeda.” Still, having read his The Black Cloud, I picked it up to see what this one was about.
The back blurb read:
“…breathtaking in its suspense… romantic adventure in the true grand manner”
– New York Herald Tribune
The time is 1970. Thomas Sherwood, a young Cambridge scientist, is recruited by British Intelligence to go to western Ireland to learn the origin, nature, and purpose of I.C.E., the mysterious and powerful Industrial Corporation of Eire. I.C.E., hidden behind its own Iron Curtain, is an elite industrial complex that in only ten years has solved many of the major scientific problems the rest of the world is still grappling with. The great nations fear I.C.E. as a menace to the delicate balance of world power and must discover whatever they can about it. Sherwood is immediately caught up in a world of desperate violence among spies and counterspies, the pursued and the pursuing. So, should I gamble 50¢ on Ossian's Ride? Now, 50¢ is not an insignificant amount of cash when living on a three figure allowance – counting both sides of the decimal place. 1970 is only five years from now, and there didn’t seem to be a lot of science fiction in the description either. Still, it’s Fred Hoyle. Oh, why not?
Ride is interestingly framed, beginning with the British prime minister, who has Thomas Sherwood’s report on his desk. It appears that Sherwood reached the heart of the mystery, but then defected to I.C.E. And yet, he has sent this report that purports to reveal the deepest secret of I.C.E. The P.M. wonders if he should believe it. Well, we can read Sherwood’s report for ourselves, and draw our own conclusions. The story then becomes the first person narrative of the amateur secret agent, Thomas Sherwood. With a forged visa, he sets out for Ireland posing as a student on a holiday with £15 (all that a real student on a holiday would carry), a rucksack and some books. Things don’t go well right from the start. But Sherwood is a resourceful fellow, with a streak of James Bond in his makeup, so we are treated to a nonstop series of mysteries, murders, captures, and escapes across a countryside overrun with ruthless agents of all sorts. Against all odds, and with an unwavering determination to get to the heart of the mystery, Sherwood works himself into I.C.E. And once inside, into its secret heart. Only to joint them, as we knew from page one. Having read his full report, do you believe him? Do you blame him?
I wasn’t disappointed with the book — well worth my two quarters. Perhaps what I liked most about the story is its air of being an authentic true life adventure. It feels like it was written by someone who has put on a rucksack and tramped the Irish countryside himself. And because of that, it remained believable despite the rush of life and death adventures that fill its 182 pages. Like the book’s cover, there is not, however, a lot of science fiction in Ossian's Ride. Five pages worth, maybe. And I have to say that the ending left me with questions, questions that could have been more satisfactorily answered with another page or two. Still, all in all, it was an exhilarating ride. And since I read science fiction more for adventure than as explorations of a future world shaped by some marvelous scientific invention, I would rate Ossian's Ride 4 stars.
That's all for today, folks! Join us next month for another exciting Galactoscope!
Longtime readers of this magazine may remember the hatred I shared a year or two ago for the fledgling super-hero line published by upstart Marvel Comics. At the time I felt the stories published in such comic book series as Fantastic Four, Spider-Man and Tales to Astonish were crude, unsophisticated and just plain bad. This was especially true when those shambolic comics were compared to the smart, sophisticated science-hero comics published by their chief competitor, National Comics.
It’s shocking how much that equation has changed. National Comics like Flash, Green Lantern and Batman definitely outdo their competition in terms of slickness and a firm basis in pseudo-science. But Marvel has come a long way to making themselves into a modern comic book publisher which embraces the unpredictable 1960s.
The latest proof Marvel’s surprising unpredictability can be found in the current issue of The Avengers.
The Avengers are Marvel’s version of National’s Justice League. They’re a team of the company’s finest super-heroes gathered together to fight evil. Just as the JLA stars headliners like Batman, Hawkman, the Atom and Green Lantern, the Avengers have included in their corps such august members as Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, Giant-Man and the Wasp.
Emphasis in my previous sentence should definitely be on the word have, because as this title of Avengers #16 tells us, “the old order changeth!”
Shockingly, writer Stan Lee has decided to shake up what seemed like a winning formula, removing all but one of those headliners from his super-team. Even more surprising, Lee doesn’t replace Thor or Iron Man with the likes of Spider-Man or Daredevil, who likewise star in their own comic books. No, Lee replaced his stars with a trio of former bad guys now reformed and ready to fight for justice. Only Captain America remains from the former team to lead the villains, so now Cap’s kooky quartet is made up of Captain America, Hawkeye, Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch.
I hear you readers saying, who?
Lee is making an odd, audacious decision by adding these third-rate villains-turned-heroes. That change in the status quo is almost shocking in its brazen rejection of super-hero tradition. Very few super-teams have existed, and even fewer have had their entire lineup shaken up in one fell swoop. And even more shocking is the reason the heroes leave. As the Wasp declares in one memorable panel:
National’s Justice League fight for right and never get tired. Marvel’s Avengers get tired of the fighting, need time off and even casually think about disbanding the team! Who does this stuff? And how can they get away with such a revolutionary take on super-heroes?
Even the reasons the new Avengers join is strange. Okay, so Hawkeye basically walks into the Avengers HQ and demands to become a member (who needs building security when you have super powers, I suppose).
But consider how the mutant siblings Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch come to join the team – by seeing a note in a newspaper that makes its way to their isolated Swiss chalet. Seeing a chance to change their lives, the Witch writes a letter to the Avengers requesting membership (!) – and out of a full bag of applications they are chosen! Just like out of a talent search TV program.
An adoring press meets the mutants as they arrive on the New York City docks, and they are quickly pressed to don their uniforms and announce their Avengers membership to the world. Never mind their previous membership in the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants and their former sworn fealty to the evil Magneto. They suddenly are members of the team Thor and Iron Man have left.
Shockingly, there is not even the slightest implication that one or more of these new Avengers may be trojan horses, infiltrating the team in order to defeat them. No, this is all played straight and seriously, and it appears Lee and his artists are committed to this startling change.
What in the world was Stan Lee thinking? Will sales plunge without the stars or will sales surge as Marvel blazes their own trail? This is just one of a number of moves from a company which seems to be pulling out all the stops to be decidedly different.
I know I’m on the edge of my seat trying to figure out what happens next. It’s as if Bonanza added a whole new cast and just kept Hoss. I may not be ready to join the Merry Marvel Marching Society just yet, but I do know I can’t wait to see what other shocking twists Stan Lee and his pals come up with.
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![[April 14, 1965] Furious Time Travel (April Galactoscope)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/650414coversnew-672x372.jpg)
![[March 14, 1965] The Old Order Changeth!](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/650314cover-474x372.jpg)
