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[June 28, 1964] Not Quite What You Think. ( New Worlds, July-August 1964)

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

I’m back to New Worlds this month on its new bi-monthly schedule. Getting an issue every other month is taking a bit of getting used to, if I’m honest – I was so used to receiving a monthly issue – but I must admit I’m liking the changes. Perhaps waiting that bit longer has sharpened my appetite?

The issue at hand


by James Cawthorn

The July-August 1964 issue of New Worlds starts with another eye-catching cover by Michael Moorcock’s friend Jim Cawthorn. Like the one in May, it draws you in and makes you want to read it, which does the job it is intended to do. (Although, as I will say later, there is some dissent in the Letters pages.)

To the stories themselves.

Hang on – where’s the rest of The Star Virus, by Barrington J. Bailey? Last issue I thought that there was going to be a second part. However, it seems I was wrong. Apologies for the misunderstanding on my part. (please take another point off the rating)

The Fall of Frenchy Steiner, by Hilary Bailey

I said last month that the ‘new’ New Worlds seems to want to merge the old clichés of s-f with the new sensibility of the so-called New Wave. The title story is one of those, in that the idea of alternate history is not a new one for s-f, but here it is given a new energy and perhaps grittier realism.

Told through the enigmatic and moody “Lowry”, it is a story of what happens to Frenchy Steiner, a German bar singer with psi-powers in an alternate Britain in 1954 run by the victorious Germans. Expectedly, it is a setting full of grimness, all rationing, power shortages and curfews, with the Germans keeping control through propaganda and a strict regime. As well as a pub entertainer, Frenchy leads a double life, as we find out about her familial connections to the Third Reich and her importance to the Fuhrer.

The story starts slowly but builds a credible impression of England under occupation. However, by the end it moves a little too quickly towards its resolution and there’s a few plot points that lack the thought of the initial set-up.

If you are a long-time reader, you may recognise the author’s name. We have met work by Hilary Bailey before, with Breakdown in the October 1963 issue of New Worlds. Breakdown was odd and a little underwhelming for me, but Frenchy Steiner, in a longer novella format, worked much better for me, even though I felt at the end that it could have been better paced. Despite the slight whiff of nepotism (Hilary is also the wife of Mr. Moorcock) this was a great start to the issue. 4 out of 5.

Storm-Water Tunnel, by Langdon Jones

A new writer with his debut here at New Worlds, Langdon is described by the story’s banner as ‘a musician’ as well as a writer. Storm-Water Tunnel is a time travel story using the Moebius strip idea – you know, the one where time is a continuous journey that twists back upon itself. This is a story that does that, but the reasons for it doing so are not clear and so it remains an intriguing trifle. I can see why editor Moorcock likes this one, as it covers similar ideas shown in his writing. As an attempt to be different, it’s OK. I suspect that we’ll see more of this writer in later issues. 3 out of 5.

Goodbye, Miranda, by Michael Moorcock

And so, after a story by the wife of the editor and a story by a friend of the editor, we now have a story by the editor. The banner at the top claims that Goodbye, Miranda is a story about ignorance and the consequences of ignorance. To me it was an experimental piece that just reminded me of a bad Shakespearean tragedy where everyone dies at the end. Based on this, Mike needs to stick to editing rather than writing, at the moment. Awful. 2 out of 5.

Single Combat, by Joseph Green

And here is the return of one of the ‘old guard’, from the older version of New Worlds! We last read Joseph’s work in the July 1963 New Worlds with the so-so Refuge. Single Combat is the story of a fight between a King and a pretender to the throne on a world where the people are seven feet tall. The main difference is that in addition to the physical battle psi-powers are used, which means that most of the story takes place in the participant’s heads.

It is interesting to see how the old style New Worlds writer stands up to the reinvigorated aims of the new New Worlds. The answer is not particularly well, frankly. Away from the psi-powers angle story, the story’s a mass of clichés. The tribes are clearly modelled on the coloured peoples of Africa and the twist in the tale is that – gasp – one of the combatants is a woman. I’m less convinced myself by this old sheep in new clothing persona given to the author myself, but the editor seems to like his work a lot. This is on a par with the ‘old stuff’, so, unsurprisingly, it gets a 3 out of 5 from me.

The Evidence, by Lee Harding

And from one of the old familiars to another. Next is the return of another writer, that of Lee Harding, last seen in the August 1963 issue of New Worlds. The Evidence is described as a “moral tale in the vein of Kafka or Peake”. These are rather lofty ambitions which the story fails to reach, although it is a good try. It’s very paranoid in nature but makes its minor point that whoever uses thermonuclear weapons in warfare must eventually be brought to trial. 3 out of 5.

Miscellany

We then have some letters! One of the advantages of being bi-monthly is that you can have responses in the next issue about the one just read. So, we have comments about Ballard’s story Equinox, concluded this month, and opinions given on the new style New Worlds, but at the same time there’s also the valid point that serial stories may not be good for the new magazine when the issues are two months apart. At least we have a range of perspectives and the views are not all positive, which I think is a healthy position to take. But again, I noticed that there are letters from Jim Cawthorn and John Brunner, which suggests that Moorcock is relying on his friends a great deal. Nevertheless, Brunner’s comment on Brian Aldiss’s mathematical gaffe in his story last month is gently amusing.

The Editorial that follows – again, an unusual placing in the issue – is a report on the British Science Fiction Association Convention of 1964. As I wasn’t able to attend myself, it’s an interesting read on the state of the genre in Britain and a nice overview of the way things are changing in fandom at the moment, but I do suspect that the report is a rather sanitised version of proceedings and doesn’t entirely cover all of the high jinks usually experienced at such events. Nevertheless it is heartening to read that there seems to be an influx of new younger attendees, whilst at the same time an award was given to New World’s retiring editor John Carnell. Do such matters translate to readers in the US, I wonder? I’m not sure. But I guess we may find out, in that one piece of good news in there was the announcement that the 1965 Worldcon may be held in London.

I’m also very pleased to see the return of the book review column, reviewed by someone new, James Colvin. (But actually, it is not new. James is a pseudonym used by both Michael Moorcock and Barrington J. Bayley.)

It is divided into British publications and US publications. In the British part this month we have under the spotlight Gunner Cade by Cyril Judd, otherwise known as Cyril Kornbluth and Judith Merrill, and a non-fiction book named Science: The Glorious Entertainment by Jacques Barzun.

There’s also two paperbacks reviewed covering similar non-fictional themes – Arthur C Clarke’s Profiles of the Future and the perhaps lesser known Inventing the Future by Dennis Gabor.

In the US section there’s Budrys’s Inferno by (strangely enough) Algis Budrys, You Will Never Be the Same by Cordwainer Smith and lastly an Ace Double, The Dragon Masters and The Five Gold Bands by Jack Vance.

Equinox, by J. G. Ballard

In the first part of this story we followed Dr. Sanders on his mission to find his friend Suzanne Clair who had sent him an odd letter and then disappeared into the Cameroun jungle. Much of this part is about Dr. Sanders’ time at the town of Mont Royale on the border between the jungle and the jungle turning into crystal.

The descriptions of the things that have turned into crystal are vivid and imaginative but there’s little else to the story. The plot, such as it is, seems to mainly involve lots of walking and running about by Dr. Sanders through the crystalline landscape in search of his friends.

Whilst Sanders does this there are a number of characters that we also revisit. Generally, the characters seem rather unpleasant, aggressive or sad, though whether this is because of their own nature or as a result of the crystals is unclear.

It helps that we now get an explanation of the cause of the crystallisation, as the physical effect of the combination of our timestream and anti-time, although it is not really rooted in sensible science. Really, Equinox is all about the mystery and strangeness of the landscape and in this the story succeeds, whilst simultaneously showing Ballard’s melancholic obsession with change and decay. If the story’s purpose is to weird out the reader, then it succeeds admirably. Even if I’m still not entirely sure what it’s all about. 4 out of 5.

Summing up

With the second issue of this “magazine of the Space Age”, we are starting to get a better idea of this brave new vision for New Worlds. We have a mixture of the old-style s-f combined with the new, to keep the old readers but also entice new ones. I still get the sense that the editor is finding his feet and seems to be mainly determined to shock and confuse, but he does seem to be confident in what he’s doing, even if he’s resorting to using those that he knows to create a creditable issue.

This seems to be the right way forward. There was a letter in the issue this month that seems rather telling – the correspondent has said that they had bought the last copy of issue 142 from their newsagent, which had not been the case for a long while during the Carnell era. I hope that it is so.

I do feel that there is a change that is new and exciting, even when it doesn’t quite meet its aspirations. Compared with New Worlds of a year ago, the magazine is good.

On this new schedule the next issue will be out at the end of August. Until next time…

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




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Book

[June 18, 1964] Bad Comic Book Style and Good Comic Book Style (Galactoscope)

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[This month's Galactoscope features a trio of books by two authors filled with riproar and comic-style adventure. We think you'll enjoy this foray into the past…and future!]

The Valley of Creation, by Edmond Hamilton


by Cora Buhlert

The Valley of Creation by Edmond Hamilton

Captain Future was the first science fiction I encountered, therefore I will always have a soft spot for Edmond Hamilton. And so I was happy to find a new Edmond Hamilton novel in the spinner rack of my local import bookshop, even if The Valley of Creation is quite different from Captain Future. The latter is space opera, the former is an earthbound adventure in the style of the "lost world" stories that were popular around the turn of the century.

The Valley of Creation follows the adventures of Eric Nelson, an American soldier of fortune (as he euphemistically calls himself) who got stuck in Asia after the Korean war. Together with a motley multinational crew of mercenaries – a Dutchman, an Englishman, a Chinaman and a fellow American (and a black man, at that) – Eric is fighting in the Chinese civil war, offering his guns and skills to whatever local warlord is willing to pay.

But Eric and his merry band of mercenaries are in a tight spot. Their latest employer is dead, the People's Liberation Army is encroaching and the mercenaries are about to find themselves on the wrong end of a firing squad. Luckily, a man called Shan Kar shows up and hires them to fight his private little war in a hidden valley in the Himalayas, far from the reach of the PLA. A hidden valley where platinum worth millions is just lying around for the taking.

If you're reminded of James Hilton's novel Lost Horizon at this point, you're not alone. Alas, L'Lan, the titular valley, is no peaceful Shangri-La. It is a troubled paradise, where the conflict between Shan Kar's faction, the Humanites, and their enemies, the so-called Brotherhood, is about the escalate.

You'd think that a group calling themselves the Humanites would be the good guys. But you'd be wrong, because the Humanites are bigoted supremacists. The Brotherhood, on the other hand, is committed to equality between humans and non-humans. Non-humans in this case meaning sentient and intelligent animals, who happen to be telepathic as well.

Shan Kar hopes that the mercenaries and their modern weapons will turn the tide in his favour. But their attempt to infiltrate the Brotherhood's stronghold quickly goes wrong. Eric is taken prisoner and finds himself at the mercy of the Brotherhood. As "punishment", he has his consciousness transferred into the body of a wolf via quasi-magic technology.

Forced to literally walk in the paws of his enemy, Eric realises that he is fighting on the wrong side and vows to aid the Brotherhood against his former comrades. And just in time, too, because – quelle surprise – Eric's surviving mercenary pals reveal themselves to be murderous thugs willing to do anything in order to get to the platinum.

Startling Stories July 1948The Valley of Creation is an action-packed science fantasy adventure that feels like a throwback to the pulp era, probably because it is. For The Valley of Creation is an expanded version of a story first published in the July 1948 issue of Startling Stories. This has caused some anachronisms, e.g. at one point Eric remarks that he has been in Asia for ten years, which would set the story in 1960. However, the Chinese Civil War and the annexation of Tibet and the East Turkestan Republic, which are the reason why Eric and his comrades are in the Himalayas in the first place, happened in 1949 and 1950, i.e. shortly after the story was originally published.

The chapters that Eric spends in the body of a wolf are the highlight of the novel, for Hamilton makes a serious attempt to describe what the world would look, smell and feel like through the senses of a wolf. The other animals are characters in their own right as well, though the Brotherhood's commitment to equality between man and beast is undermined by the fact that their hereditary leader is human. But then, making the leader anything other than human would have been problematic, considering the plot requires Eric to fall in love with his beautiful daughter.

One can view the novel as a plea for animal rights. Or one can view it as an analogy for racial equality – after all, Eric muses at one point that equality between humans and animals seems as natural in L'Lan as equality between different races is in the outer world. That's an optimistic statement to make even in 1964, let alone in 1948. Furthermore, the Chinese mercenary Li Kin is a wholly sympathetic character, in a genre that is still all too often suffused with yellow peril rhetoric. Another member of the mercenary band is a black man, but unfortunately he is the main villain.

An entertaining novel that's well worth reading, even if it belongs to an earlier era of science fiction. 3.5 stars.

Outside the Universe, by Edmond Hamilton


by Jason Sacks

As the Journey’s resident comic book fan, I try to broaden my understanding of the industry’s creators by checking out some of their text-only work. This month brought two novels by prominent comic book writers. The contrast between the two works is strong.

First up is Outside the Universe by Edmond Hamilton, an Ace reprint of Hamilton’s final Galactic Patrol book. First published in a quartet of 1929 Weird Tales pulps, alongside work by Robert E. Howard, August Derleth, and — I kid you not — Lois Lane — Hamilton’s epic tale of titanic space battles, courageous heroes and intergalactic alliances is a breathless, often overwhelming weird tale.

Written in a long-winded style which reads like Hamilton was desperate to allow the words to tumble from his typewriter lest they find a stray period, Outside the Universe is a wild and wooly journey which involves a million-ship battle between a mighty galactic empire and evil space serpents. Battles are enormous and seemingly endless, and space seems filled with astonishing dangers which imperil every space ship which passes through them. Our heroes and villains fight their ways through bizarre radiation clouds and unexplained hot areas, stars arranged geometrically and people transformed into statues.

It’s a humdinger of a tale, a rousing yarn which throws the reader from cliffhanger to cliffhanger with scarcely a moment to catch their breath — unless they stop to diagram one of the hundreds (thousands?) of 50-word sentences in this book. Hamilton seems to have never internalized the idea of varying sentence length to keep his readers engaged. Perhaps this is an artifact of 1920s pulp writing, but I found I couldn’t keep focus on this book for too long without desperately getting impatient for a quick breather from all Hamilton’s verbosity.

Hamilton moved to comics, where he often wrote for his friend Mort Weisinger on the Superman family of comics. Notably, Hamilton's run on the "Legion of Super-Heroes" tales in Adventure Comics is well known for its breakneck pace — “a new planet every page”, as one critical wag labeled it — and complete paucity of characterization. Apparently Mr. Hamilton changed little as he aged, as this early work reflects those tendencies. Outside the Universe is a hoot but this story has no teeth.

Rating: 2.5

Escape Across the Cosmos, by Gardner Fox

Meanwhile, Gardner Fox has released his newest through the Paperback Library. Escape Across the Cosmos reads at times like a print version of Mr. Fox’s comic book work. In this volume, he delivers a novel about a kind of extradimensional space superhero.

That’s appropriate for the man who has written many classic tales for National Comics’ heroes line, including the memorable “Flash of Two Worlds”, in which the super speedster met his cross-dimensional counterpart. In fact, rumor has it that Fox will be assuming the reins on Batman later this year, taking over the moribund Batman and Detective Comics titles from a team which includes Edmond Hamilton.

Escape Across the Cosmos is the tale of Kael Carrack, a war-ravaged man whose body has been rebuilt to be nearly indestructible. His silicon skin, cybernetic strength and superhuman abilities are urgently needed to defeat the dreaded Ylth’yl, a Lovecraftian monster from another dimension who has killed nearly everybody of importance in his dimension and who hungers to transport his evil to our dimension. In fact, as the story unfolds, it seems Kael has a special connection to the evil creature, one which may save — or doom — our dimension.

In contrast with the Hamilton novel, Fox doesn’t squander characterization for adventure. He takes pains to show readers Kael’s confusion and allows us to become willing and excited participants in the hero’s journey to self-realization. As he and we do so, Kael finds true romance with a human woman, grows into a more perfected version of himself. It will betray any surprises to say that Kael begins to fulfill his destiny by the end of this short book.

This short novel is a clever, quick read. It shines in comparison with Hamilton’s overcrowded prose, as Fox takes pains to allow the reader to move ahead at his own pace. I would have loved to see more depth on the hero and his universe, but perhaps we’ll learn more about him at some point in the future when Fox delivers a sequel in one form or another.

Escape Across the Cosmos reads like an origin story for a new superhero, and for all I know Kael may appear in the pages of National’s Showcase try-out book in the next several months. Maybe Kael will be their next great sci-fi hero. I would certainly welcome him in my comics stack each month.

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




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Book, Magazine

[June 8, 1964] Be Prepared! (July 1964 IF)

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by Gideon Marcus

In Preparation

In three days, the Traveler family returns to Japan for an unprecedented three-week trip.  That's an endeavor that calls for tremendous planning, from the purchasing of tickets (Pan Am flies direct from Los Angeles to Tokyo these days!) to judicious packing.  A house-sitter must be engaged.  Mail must be held at the post office.  And, of course, three weeks of The Journey must be plotted in advance.  Thank goodness we're such a broad team.

Out in the real world, the United States Senate, under the agile leadership of Hubert Humphrey, is putting its ducks in order.  The goal: to invoke cloture, ending the months-long "debate" over the Civil Rights Act and allowing a vote on the landmark bill.  This fate of this legislation, federally guaranteeing equality of the races regardless of the desire of certain states to retain barbaric discrimination practices,was never really in doubt.  By the time it came to the floor this year, after two years of increasing Black American protest, and support from the President's office (first JFK, now LBJ), it was a matter of when Southern resistance was crushed, not if.  Such are the fruits of good planning.

Twenty years ago, meticulous planning brought another racist regime to heel.  After months of preparation, the Western Allies lined up thousands of ships and tens of thousands of troops for an invasion of Nazi-occupied France.  D-Day at Normandy was a hard-won but smashing success that sounded the death knell for Hitler's empire.  The other night, Walter Cronkite met up with the operation's implementer, President/General Eisenhower, for a heart to heart in France.  It was good television, and stirring tribute to one of America's finest hours.

What If?

IF Worlds of Science Fiction, Galaxy's scrappy younger sister, has also launched a big operation, the result of a long-ranged plan.  For years, the magazine has been a bi-monthly, alternating publication with Galaxy.  Now, editor Fred Pohl says it's going monthly.  To that end, he lined up a slew of big-name authors to contribute enough material to sustain the increased publication rate.  Moreover, Pohl intends IF to be the adventurous throwback mag, in contrast to the more cerebral digests under his direction (Galaxy and Worlds of Tomorrow.  Or in his words:

"Adventure.  Excitement.  Drama.  Color.  Not hack pulp-writing or gory comic-strip blood and thunder, but the sort of story that attracted most of us to science fiction in the first place."

Frankly, it was Galaxy that got me into SF in 1950, so I'm not sure I want a return to the "Golden Age".  But I'm willing to see how this works out, and in fact, this month's issue is encouragingly decent, as you shall soon see.


by Gray Morrow

The Issue at Hand

Farnham's Freehold (Part 1 of 3), by Robert A. Heinlein


by Jack Gaughan

This issue starts with a serial that is all about being prepared.  In Heinlein's latest, Hubert Farnham and his family are interrupted during bridge night when the Russkies start pounding his town with atom bombs.  Luckily, this second example of a perspicacious Hubert had the foresight to build a well-stocked shelter.  'Hugh', his headstrong son, Duke, cheerful daughter, Karen, alcoholic and listless wife, Grace, 'houseboy' and 'Negro' Joe, and friend, Barbara (as well as Joe's cat, 'Dr. Livingston, I presume') all cram into the basement refuge as the first two warheads go off.

Drama quickly erupts.  Duke does not take kindly to his father's autocratic style (and he is all the more resentful since Hugh is always right).  After the second bomb, Hugh and Barbara keep watch together, and promptly commence to having an affair.  This would have been more palatable had there been any sort of build up or prior history.  Just a few pages ago, Hugh was lamenting that Duke and Barbara weren't an item yet.  All it takes is a couple of bombs, some sweltering heat, and a nearby knocked-out wife to fan the flames of passion, I guess.

There is a third walloping, but this time, there is no accompanying radiation or rumble.  Instead, when the six finally work their way out of the shelter, they find themselves in an utterly virgin version of their former home.  No city.  No people.  Just greenery and wildlife. 

Thus it is that Farnham's Freehold transforms from Alas, Babylon to Swiss Family Robinson. 

Hugh immediately creates a long-range settlement plan, complete with irrigation, plumbing, and light industry.  For several months, there is idyll in the new Garden.  But then (read no further if you don't want telling details) it turns out that both Karen and Barbara are pregnant.  Karen dies in the agonies of childbirth, as does her infant daughter.  Grace refuses to live under the same roof as Barbara and decides to leave, the Oedipally inclined Duke in tow.  Just as this split is about to come to fruition, other humans appear.

Black humans, with hoverships and paralyze rays.  They don't speak English, but they are kindly disposed to Joe.  Less so to the others.  End Part One.

After the disappointment that was Podkayne of Mars), I was not looking forward to spending hours with Bob Heinlein this month.  To some extent, my fears were borne out.  While I do admire the ability to tell a story completely in dialog, with the action implied in the lines of the characters, it is too much of a good thing here, especially since all of the characters sound like Bob Heinlein or Heinlein's Band of Straw Men.  The story reads like the screenplay for Heinlein — a One Man Show! crossed with The Boy Scout Handbook.  Bob even manages to cram in paeans to nudity, cats, and Libertarianism within the first 25 pages (I think he has a checklist).  And the "passionate" dialog between Hugh and Barbara?  Ugh.

That said, the book is readable and well-paced.  If you can look past the cardboard characters and the sparse scenery, the bones of the story are alright, I suppose.  Perhaps it's just my taste for the Post-Apocalyptic that kept me going.

Three stars for now.  We'll see what happens.

Weetl, by Jack Sharkey

This is a silly tale of man who was unprepared.  Raised in religiosity, a young zealot creates a machine that makes it impossible for anyone to weetle.  That is to say, when they try to say something weetleive, it is subweetletuted with the censoring sound, 'weetle.'  As you can see, beweetles a problem very quickly.

It starts great, ends dumb, and yet, I like the concept.  I can see a future where OMNIVAC ruins all of our computer programs by overzealously deleting words it finds offensive.  Or maybe Ma Bell implementing a razzer over particularly spicy phone conversations.

Three stars.

The Mathenauts, by Norman Kagan


by Nodel

Sometimes, things can't be planned for at all.  In the future, it turns out that the mathematically inclined can pilot spaceships that traverse pure math space, shortcutting the physical world.  But one of the geniuses in the crew goes too far and discovers that math isn't just an abstraction — it is the universe, and the physical world is just a construct of the beings that once thrived in the real (or should I say irrationally complex?) world of numbers.

This story left me completely cold, with its flat-falling jokes and easy philosophy ("Like, man, what if the dreams are real, and we're really asleep right now?!") But I know a lot of folks really liked this tale, and in deference to them, I gave the story multiple and deep readings.  After a while, I was able to refine my position.

I still don't like it.  Two stars.

(Full disclosure: I was not able to get past my third year of University mathematics, and proofs are my weak point.  I am a physicist, not a mathematician, and certainly not a philosopher.)

Old Testament, by Jerome Bixby

A wife and husband team of planetary explorers do their best to make a furtive survey of a planet inhabited by primitive extraterrestrials.  But the best-laid plans gang aft agley — the aliens have left a foundling child on board their ship, one who will die if they don't take it back.  Can they return the child without further tainting the culture?

I liked this one, a UFO story in reverse.  Four stars.

The Silkie, by A. E. van Vogt


by Gray Morrow

Last up is a most unusual story from pulp veteran A. E. van Vogt, featuring a profoundly altered variety of humanity that can not only breathe air but also live undersea and sail through the vastness of interplanetary space.  Cemp, a Silkie (sort of a telepathic, spacefaring cop) encounters an extraterrestrial incursion right on the eve of his once-in-a-decade period of spawning.  Talk about unplanned events!  Can he defeat the menace when he is at his most vulnerable?

It's the telling of this story, weird and subtle, that makes it.  Silkie feels less like van Vogt and more like Dick (and perhaps better Dick than a lot of recent Dick).  Not quite perfection, but interesting nonetheless.

Four stars.

Summing up

So far, Pohl's efforts to beef up IF appear to be paying off.  I look forward to seeing his plan further translate into reality!

Now I just need to figure out where to cram in the extra review every month…

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




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Book, Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[June 2, 1964] June Gloom (June 1964 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Open Your Golden Gate

This weekend, the family and I took a trip to San Francisco for a small pre-Pacificon fan gathering. Well, not so small. By the end, attendance was measured well into the hundreds, and the informally dubbed "Baycon" boasted much the same schedule as any normal convention: panels, parties, even an exhibit hall and art show!

Of course, yours truly and co. were drafted to give a State of the Union on fandom as of May 1964. We were pleased to accept, and the resulting show was one of our best (we think). See for yourself!


The event by the Bay was the highlight of an otherwise dreary month, sfnally. Indeed, June 1964 (by cover date) may well be the worst month in the history of SF mags. Read on to understand why…

The Issue at Hand


by John Schoenherr

John W. Campbell's Analog, once the clear flagship of the SF mag fleet, has become a rusted shell of itself.  From a distance, it still retains the proud lines of the S.S.Astounding (as it was once known), but up close, one can see the degradation of years of neglect.  Though many of the crewmen are the same, their uniforms are shabby and their work lackluster.  It's a depressing thing.  Witness this month's issue.

Plowshare Today, by Edward C. Walterscheid

The one truly bright spot of this issue is the nonfiction article.  Usually, the value of these pages is directly proportional to their absorbency.  This time is different — Walterscheid has given us quite an informative piece on the where we are in regard to using nuclear weapons for "peaceful" purposes.  Earth moving, isotope making, Fourth of July demonstrations…that sort of thing.

I learned a lot.  I also know not to expect this project to come to fruition any time soon.  Four stars.

Stuck, by John Berryman


by Steven Verenicin

Exactly one year ago, Berryman wrote a nifty piece called The Trouble with Telstar, a hyper-realistic tale of satellite repair in the near future.  Stuck is a sequel, in which our intrepid space repairman is contracted to catch an enemy spy satellite as it whips past the Earth in a hyperbolic orbit.

The situation is mildly interesting, but the characters aren't, and the writing is workmanlike.  It's a shame — I was looking forward to this one.

Three stars.

Dolphin's Way, by Gordon R. Dickson


by Leo Summers

From the movie, Flipper, to the recent Clarke novel, Dolphin Island, our friends, the littlelest of whales, have been quite the sensation lately.  In Dickson's tale, humanity is on the verge of a communications breakthrough with dolphins.  This attempt becomes time sensitive as budgets are threatened.  Moreover, the principal investigator on the project has a sneaking suspicion that success will be the linchpin to acceptance into a galactic community.

Not bad, though I could have done without all the googoo eyes the scientist has for the journalist who arrives to cover his efforts.  Three stars.

Snap Judgment, by J. T. McIntosh


by Leo Summers

And then we hit the bottom.

The premise isn't bad: aliens come to Earth hoping to have us join their stellar Federation so that we'll vote for them in a pending referendum.  Through various contrivances, they never actually see humans — they only know of us from radio advertisements and from the luggage of a single space traveller.  From these scanty clues, they must craft a pitch that will win over all of humanity.

The thing is, the BEMs salvage a woman's luggage and, thus, deduce all the wrong things about humanity.  That we're frivolous, easily flattered, desperate for a protector.  The radio commercials only reinforce this view since they're aimed at the consumers of society.  You know.  Women. 

Their pitch falls flat when the MEN, who thankfully are in charge of society, are turned off by the aliens' appeal and respond in a way that maximizes Earth's gain over that of the extraterrestrials.

Lest you think I'm being touchy, and that McIntosh was not impugning all womankind, let me read you this tidbit from the end of the story:

"Why," Doreen said, "did women react one way and men another?"
Barker grinned.  "Because of you.  The Grillans only had time for a snap judgment.  they picked your ship and made a quick guess about us based on what they found onboard."
"What they found?"
"Feminine things.  The only personal things in the ship.  The only clues about the human race they had.  And what a mistake that was."
"Why?"
"However women may holler about sex equality, men will always decide things like what to do when contact with an alien race is made.  Right?"
Doreen shrugged.  "I guess so.  Women have other things to think about."
"As you say.  As you said — 'Nobody asks me when big things are decided.  I never expected they would.'  Women's goals are more personal.  More Earthbound."

It goes on from there.  It could not be more offensive if McIntosh had written the BEMs finding a Jew's suitcase and determining that humanity was grasping and miserly.  Or deducing from a Black person's luggage that humans just really love to be enslaved.

One star and 1964's winner of the Queen Bee Award.

Undercurrents (Part 2 of 2), by James H. Schmitz


by John Schoenherr

I left Part 1 of this story none too enthused about where the novella was going, and all of my suspicions were confirmed.  To sum up, 15 year-old Telzey Amberdon is a psionically adept young woman sent off-planet to college.  Her roommate, Gonwil, is about to come into control of great wealth as a result of her reaching majority.  When Telzey makes telepathic contact with Gonwil's giant dog guardian, Chomir, she discovers a plot to kill Gonwil.

Two things made this promising story an utter disappointment.  For one, it was obvious that the dog was going to be the tool of Gonwil's attempted assassination.  But worse still was the writing.  We hardly see Telzey do anything.  There are just endless pages of exposition, introducing and then disposing of plot points, or even just irrelevant information.  It's like Schmitz wrote an outline and then neglected to fill it in with a story.

Two stars, and what a shame.  I haven't been this let down since Podkayne of Mars.  Two stars.

Mustn't Touch, by Poul Anderson


by Michael Arndt

The first hyperdrive test is recovered from the orbit of Neptune after just 60 seconds of operation.  Unfortunately, all the biological specimens on board are dead or dying.  What caused this lethal event, and what does it mean for humanity?

Poul Anderson tends to vacillate between genius and garbage.  This piece falls smack dab in between, featuring some nice writing and a lot of good ideas, but failing to land any punches.  He's got a novel's worth of concepts in here: sentient robots, hyperspace, genetic manipulation.  But with only ten pages to get his point across, it all becomes a muddle.

Three stars. 

I, BEM, by Leigh Richmond and Walt Richmond


by Michael Arndt

Finally, the Richmond twins (I kid, they're probably married — of course, they could also still be twins) offer up yet another turgid short, this one on how robots will ultimately make all humans unemployed — but what happens when the robots have their work done for them?

Written like that, I actually kind of like the concept, but it's not very well done.  Two stars.

Doing the Math

Analog clocks in this month at an unimpressive 2.6 stars, tied with Amazing and beating out Fantastic (2.4).  But even the mags that beat Analog didn't do so by much: Galaxy scored 2.7 and F&SF got 2.8.  In fact, the best parts of the magazines were the nonfiction articles this month.  Only Kit Reed's Cynosure (in F&SF) and Harlan Ellison's Paingod (in Fantastic) merit much attention besides.

Of the 34 new fiction pieces, only two of them were penned (in whole or part) by women. 

Now, to be fair, I have not yet read the June 1964 issue of Gamma, but that's only because the magazine has such spotty distribution that I didn't get a copy until recently.  So it'll get lumped in with July's stuff.  I can only imagine that will be for the good!

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Book

[May 26, 1964] Stag Party (Silverberg's Regan's Planet and Time of the Great Freeze)

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by Gideon Marcus

Science fiction is a hard business to make it in.  Back in the early '50s, during the post-war revival, there were some 40+ monthly magazines authors could send stories to.  It was pretty easy to get published back then although the quality was often…shall we say…indifferent.  By the end of the decade, with the fall of the largest magazine distributor and the public getting, perhaps, more discerning, there were just six mags and sff book publication was pretty slow, too.

A lot of authors left the genre to try their luck in the mainstream world.  That's why we lost Bob Sheckley, Ted Sturgeon, and Philip K. Dick for a while.  But times are tough in the real world, too.  Plus, of late, sff seems to be picking up again: IF is going monthly, we've got a couple of new mags in Worlds of Tomorrow and Gamma, books are coming out at an increasing rate.  And so Dick is back in force, and others who have left the field are nosing their way back in.

Robert Silverberg is another one of the authors who wrote sff like the dickens back in the '50s and then disappeared.  He's still writing and writing and writing, but most of his stuff doesn't end up on our favorite shelves or in our favorite magazines.

But sometimes…

In fact, in just the last three months, two Silverberg science fiction books have hit my to-review pile.  And since Silverberg writes the "Spectroscope" book review column for Amazing, it is apt that this edition of the Journey's book review column, the "Galactoscope", be Silverberg-centered.

Regan's Planet

The New York World's Fair has captured the hearts and minds of America this spring, an exposition of modern technologies, wild speculations on the future, and cultural displays from all over the globe.  Silverberg's latest adult science fiction novel, Regan's Planet, is billed as "The wild and wacky novel of the next World's Fair."  As it turns out, this is a bit of false advertising.

It is the end of the 1980s, and corporations are virtually states unto themselves, and the CEO of a sprawling enterprise wields more power than even the President of the United States.  Our protagonist is Claude Regan, head of Global Factors, one of the world's great corporate conglomerates.  At the ripe old age of 35, Regan is bored with success.  Like Alexander, he weeps for a lack of worlds to conquer.

Thus, he conceives a brand new kind of World's Fair, one to take place on the quincentennial of Columbus' first landing in the New World, one that will establish a permanent foothold for humanity in the next frontier. 

Yes, he wants to hold the event in space.

Most of the slim book's 140 pages features the organization and funding of the event.  There's not much wild about it and certainly no wackiness.  In fact, the whole thing reads like an account of a fairly normal, if grandiose, business venture. 

And though Regan's Planet is putatively science fiction, it's really sheer fantasy.  Silverberg posits that we'll have colonies on Mars in just a couple of decades, and that a the cost of sending dozens of Saturn-class rockets into orbit to build an Expo satellite (not to mention the dozens more rockets required to stock it and send attendees) is a significant but not overly expensive endeavor.

The premise doesn't work in a lot of ways.  Firstly, I don't know if Bob reads Aviation Weekly, but I do, and I know what NASA's budget is.  There's no way spaceflight is going to be as cheap as he thinks it is, not in less than thirty years.  Moreover, if space is that cheap, then there should be lots of satellites already in space, whereas Regan's Planet suggests that the Expo is the first, and it is being built precisely as a vanguard space settlement.

On a personal note, I was turned off by the inclusion of precisely one (1) female character in the story (out of a dozen or so), Regan's conniver wife.  In this future, men still rule, and women are graspers and not even good marital partners.  Also, you may be unable to stomach the way that Regan ultimately gets the Fair to be an unqualified success (to be fair, Regan himself isn't able to, either).

All that said, I've seen flashes of brilliance when Bob applies himself, and even when he doesn't, he still puts out workmanlike stuff.  The book does move along pretty well, and I had no trouble finishing it.  Silverberg himself has described this book as "a minor work".  Perhaps he spent a week cranking the thing out; thanks very much for the paycheck, on to the next "under the counter" book.

Two and a half stars.

Time of the Great Freeze

In the late 20th Century, a mysterious galactic cloud obscured the sun.  Not entirely, but enough to send the Earth into another Ice Age.  The tropics became temperate, and the temperate zones became glaciated.  The population of the United States, Europe, the Soviet Union, and China, rushed southward only to be rebuffed by the emerging world, offering the industrialized nations a taste of their own anti-immigrant medicine.  And so the northerners either crowded into their barely inhabitable southern zones, or they established nuclear-powered underground cities, designed to be self-sufficient and protected by a mile of glacier ice.

Now, 300 years later, there are signs that the world's deep freeze is about to end, and a group of subterranean New Yorkers becomes curious about the half-forgotten world above.  After being cast out of the city by a paranoid oligarchy for making radio contact with underground London, nine men decide to undertake the trek to Europe.  Their goal: to see what civilization remains after three centuries of cold.

Time is a journey story, clearly written for a younger audience.  Along the way, we meet all manner of surface-dwellers, from illiterate hunters to half-savage bandits to civilized ice-dwellers.  There are exciting scenes of battle, of blizzard, of death.  In this book, we don't get a single woman, but I suppose no female characters is better than an unflattering single example. 

Again, I don't know if Silverberg put a great deal of energy into this book, but Bob writes like breathing, and there's a sort of a Time-Life The Poles feeling of realism about Time.  A kid (or kid-like adult, like me) will likely enjoy this combination of the Arctic expedition and post-apocalyptic genres.

Three and a half stars.

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Book

[May 24, 1964] The Darkest of Nights… ( June 1964)

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

With New Worlds magazine turning bi-monthly last month I find myself in the position of having nothing particular to report this month. I could talk about what I’ve seen at the cinema (Becket, with Peter O Toole and Richard Burton — very good) or on television (I’m still enjoying Doctor Who), but I usually turn to something to read for my entertainment.

So, what I’ve decided to review this month is perhaps something I should have commented on before. I am a subscriber to the British Science Fiction Book Club, and have been for many years. The club has been sending me a hardback book since 1953 for the princely sum of 6s and 6d (six shillings and sixpence, about $1.50?) a month. Initially it was bi-monthly, but has been so popular it soon changed to monthly.

The books are selected for readers by a panel, which has included at various stages Arthur C. Clarke, Kingsley Amis and coincidentally John ‘Ted’ Carnell, the recent editor of New Worlds.

Not all choices have been what we would call ‘current’ – some have been published elsewhere a year previously, for example – but in my opinion, they’re usually a good affordable read, or a chance to catch up on something I might have missed when first published.

This month’s selection (the 83rd!), The Darkest of Nights, is one you may not know in the US, but you may know the author.

Charles Eric Mayne is a British author who has transcended the boundaries of genre to become attractive to mainstream readers as well. I understand that “Charles Eric Maine” is the pseudonym of David McIlwain, a writer of science fiction novels since the 1950s. Like The Beatles, he’s from Liverpool. Previous novels that you may know include Spaceways (1953), Timeliner (1955) and High Vacuum (1956). His stories are usually fast-paced and combine current contemporary themes with the latest ideas in science and technology.

In terms of science-fictional themes, you may have noticed that British sf has taken some interesting developments in recent years. We’ve had the so-called “New Wave”, that I’ve spoken about here before, but perhaps less remarkably but more enduring has been the trend of apocalyptic novels, which have become popular with mainstream readers. Led by authors such as John Wyndham with his novels The Day of the Triffids (1951) and The Kraken Wakes (1953), there has been a burgeoning of similar stories in recent years. John Christopher’s The Death of Grass (1956) and The World in Winter (1962) are superior examples, in my opinion. Even J G Ballard has been tempted to go there, with his novel The Drowned World (1962).

At first glance, The Darkest of Nights is another of those end of the world stories.


(the Book Club covers are very, very dull – compare this original first British edition cover with the Book Club version above)

The story begins with a bang, although it is written about in that understated British way that downplays it.  A mutated virus has been spreading across Asia. The Hueste Virus begins with a sudden rise in body temperature to above one-hundred-and-five degrees before the victim lapses into a coma. The skin then goes dry and appears both grey and glossy. It seems to be fatal once caught, at least initially.

As the first recognised cases are in Japan, at first the virus is relatively unnoticed by the general public in Europe and North America.  Our lead character is Dr. Pauline Brant, who works for the International Virus Research Organisation in Japan and has first-hand experiences of the epidemic. Separated from her journalist husband Clive, she returns to England and begins work on an antivirus vaccine in England. She also begins a tentative relationship with fellow Doctor Vincent, despite not yet being divorced from Clive.

If you are a reader accustomed to the novels of John Wyndham, you may expect that when the virus eventually spreads to England, the nation shows the resolve and ‘stiff-upper-lip’ mentality that is typically expected – the so-called ‘Dunkirk Spirit’, shown in World War Two.

This doesn’t happen.

Being mainly set in England, there is an unsurprising focus on the consequences of the virus on social order. In such a stratified social situation, it may not surprise you that as the deaths mount up, the working-class feel that they are deliberately being abandoned by those in power whilst the rich entrepreneurs and higher elements of society are rumoured to be hoarding a cure in admittedly limited supply. 

We see the consequences of this when in the middle part of the novel the focus shifts to Pauline’s estranged husband Clive. He has decided to take up the offer of a new job given by his new girlfriend’s father, and leaves his journalist position at the Daily Monitor newspaper to become a reporter who, as part of a mobile film crew, will film the events to create movie records for official archives. When his team, including his girlfriend, arrive from the USA, we see through them the consequences of the world falling apart.

In London there is panic, looting and a breakdown of social order that is horrifying to read. With most of the politicians and decision makers locked away in bunkers, new secrecy laws are introduced. A public militia is formed to reflect the dissatisfaction of the general public who take on the police and the military across many cities, including London. This leads to armed battles and tanks on the streets of the British capital whilst many workers strike, objecting to the situation.  Would the fabric of society collapse as quickly as it is shown here? Perhaps not – it may be accelerated for the sake of entertainment – but it does read surprisingly realistically.

The idea of a ‘cure’ is more than a rumour. When research discovers that there are two forms of the virus – a lethal version referred to as AB virus and a harmless alternative called BA virus – the story becomes a race to create a vaccine from the BA virus that will cure without killing the host. This is a major development early on in the novel, although estimates suggest that even with the BA virus isolated, the deaths amongst the general population will be approximately fifty-per-cent. Pauline is given a difficult choice to make – should she try and help the masses with limited hospital care and a fifty-fifty chance of survival, or should she take the offer given of a position looking after the privileged decision-makers kept in protected underground bunkers?

The ending is perhaps the book’s weakest element, with a rather convenient meeting of the main characters that stretches credulity a little. It should not be too much of a surprise to the well-read s-f reader that things do not end well for everybody. Whilst the final battle is quite exciting, the story leaves things rather open-ended. Some characters, having seemed crucial at the beginning, become unimportant at the end. At least one appears to have been left redundant, with some other characters' fate left undisclosed. It seems a little rushed and a bit forced, which is a shame after such a good start.

Summing up

It's not the first time that Charles has written about global catastrophes – this bears some similarities to his novel The Tide Went Out (1958), which covered similar themes of global crisis around a nuclear weapon test that cracks the Earth open. One of the key characters there was also a reporter who had an extra-marital affair.

Similarities aside, I must say that The Darkest of Nights is engaging and at times even a little too close for comfort. It reads as if real, the plausibility enhanced by the scientific explanation given to describe the cause and effect of the virus, which to me, as a non-scientist, all sounds remarkably possible.

What is perhaps most scary is the bigger picture — that the source of the virus seems to be a random development that in reality could happen at any time. Whilst it is possible that it's a mutation created by nuclear testing or biological warfare, the most likely is that that it is an accidental, yet natural, evolution. It happened by chance, not deliberately.

Despite the unconvincing ending, I enjoyed a lot of this novel, which was a grisly, entertaining, and occasionally chilling read. Like Wyndham’s stories it is remarkably English in its style and tone, although darker and grimmer than anything Wyndham has written. In the end, perhaps the book’s biggest strength is that it made me appreciate that for all of our social ills, things could be a lot, lot worse. It’s not a New Wave story but it was grimly engaging.

4 out of 5.

And with that, I’ll leave it until the next issue of New Worlds arrives through the letterbox, which is probably when I’ll speak to you next. 

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Book

[May 16, 1964] A Mirror to Progress (Chester Anderson and Michael Kurland's Ten Years to Doomsday)

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by Jason Sacks

These days, our world is undergoing a sudden and dramatic transformation. Starting immediately after the War, and accelerating since, many former colonies are becoming free nations, ready to embrace their potential and individuality. As these new countries find their own ways toward futures separate from their former masters, we in the Western world are able to experience life from different perspectives. These perspectives show the exquisite diversity of the human race. We are given the rare privilege to experience perspectives different from our own, perspectives sometimes frightening, sometimes exciting, but always intriguing. In doing so, we provide these nations the ultimate freedom: they can dream big. They can embrace new technologies and different ways of looking at the world. They can shake off the repressive yoke of colonialism and allow themselves to achieve their true potential.

Ten Years to Doomsday, the delightful new novel by the writing team of Chester Anderson and Michael Kurland, is a charming exploration of many of these themes using a mix of farce and drama.

As the book begins, an evil race of aliens threatens the star-spanning Terran Alliance. The aliens’ path to Earth leads through a human-colonized world that seems particularly hapless. As we meet them, the settlers on the planet Lyff seem a quiet people. They have a rigid society which revolves around their king and petty nobility. Even after thousands of years of civilization, the people of Lyff haven’t passed beyond an agrarian lifestyle which barely provides greater than subsistence living.

After their initial reconnaissance, the aliens plan be back in ten years to conquer Lyff and then begin their implacable march through the Terran empire. A stand needs to be taken on this small world, and quickly. But the aliens have astounding technology. How can a tiny planet like Lyff possibly defend itself?

Thankfully the Terrans have a plan: send a team of three scientists to Lyff to help jumpstart the world’s technology. These men start with the introduction of the telegraph but very quickly things begin to take their own momentum and the colonials soon prove to be much more sophisticated than the Terran colonizers expected. What at first seems like indolence or a lack of ambition soon proves to provide a pattern for technological innovation far beyond what anyone could have expected. The arrogant Terrans learn there are more things in heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in their philosophy

Our late, lamented President Kennedy said 18 months ago that we chose to go to the moon because it is hard. But what if journeying through space was easy — if you applied the right approach to solving the problems?

Anderson and Kurland deliver a novelette which reflects our world back to us in a clever and satirical manner, spotlighting the often arrogant and dismissive attitudes of our post-colonial world. Just as with many former colonies in our world, the colonists on Lyff have far more potential than the Terrans could possibly imagine. It’s a heady and humbling idea that would translate to a variety of media. As a comic book fan, I would love to see this theme brought to my favorite medium, perhaps portraying a small country, maybe in Africa, that proves to be much more technologically advanced even than the United States.

In tone and style, this slim book — less than 160 pages — reminded me of The Mouse that Roared, one of my favorite films from about five years ago and a clever take on the arrogance rich countries bring to our discussion of smaller countries. Just as Grand Fenwick proves to be a stronger adversary than the rest of the world is ready to deal with, so Lyff proves to be a formidable foil.

And as with The Mouse that Roared, I was reminded again of the fallacy of underestimating those who seem on the bottom…because they may soon reach the top. Heck, maybe even my beloved Mets can crawl out of 10th place in the National League before the end of the decade!

4 stars.

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Book

[May 6, 1964] The Predicament: Transit by Edmund Cooper

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by Victoria Lucas

It Finally Came!

Just a wee plug.  My favorite publisher is Faber & Faber.  While I was wiping the drool from my face during a perusal of their last catalog, something caught my eye.  An interesting book, of course, but this time not a playbook (my usual fare, when I can afford it): it was a novel by a popular British author, Edmund Cooper.  If you saw “The Invisible Boy” (the movie), you saw a version of his The Brain Child, a book published the year before.  But the novel I finally counted my pennies and bought long distance was Transit.  The hype made it look delicious, and it had a February 1964 publication date.  So it arrived at last from the Isles.


Cover art by Brian Rigby

Richard Avery/Edmund Cooper

One of the things I learned about Cooper when I looked him up was that he has a number of pseudonyms: George Kinley, Broderick Duain, Martin Lester, … and Richard Avery.  On page one of Transit, in fact in sentence one I learned that the protagonist of this book is … Richard Avery.  I don’t know what that means that he was putting himself in this book, but perhaps it indicates somehow that Avery and Cooper share opinions about things?

In the first part of the book we learn mainly about Richard, but as he suffers “transit” to another planet in this “sector” of the galaxy, he — and we — are introduced to Barbara, then to Mary.  On the planet where Richard, Mary, and Barbara are marooned, we meet Tom, also late of London as well.  They find themselves in a “predicament.”


Edmund Cooper

Predicament under Achernar

The planet is the fourth orbiting Achernar, a blue giant in a binary system.  (The star is real; who knows about the planet.) The four strangers, already divided into two couples by the choices made by their kidnappers, find themselves on a beach of an island in a strange ocean, with just enough food to last them a single day, but with flashcards identifying useful and dangerous animals and plants, one gun and some ammunition for it, knives and hatchets, and general camping equipment, including tents.  Some of their personal belongings have arrived with them, although they don’t yet know how or why. 

The word “predicament” appears in this early characterization by the narrator, Richard: “The predicament … was, itself, neither clear nor sane.” Of course I looked up the word (as I always do when faced with any word that appears to be important or undefined).  Partridge’s Origins, “a short etymological dictionary of modern English,” delves into the earliest prototypes of the word, taking it back to the Latin for “proclaim.” It is something proclaimed, thus circumstantial, and by extension unpleasant.  One does not land in a predicament by one’s own power except by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Each of the protagonists looked down to see a crystal gazing up at them in Kensington Gardens or Hyde Park.  That was the wrong place at the wrong time that landed them on an island on another planet that had not heretofore been home to anything brighter than a crocodile-like creature.

From Kensington Gardens to The Garden

Like the garden populated only by Adam and Eve, this book concerns only four people (and some ghosts of the past haunting their brains) until close to halfway through the book, when unknown others make themselves known but not seen.  Before they begin to impinge on the solitude enjoyed by Tom and Mary, Richard and Barbara, the four (but especially Richard) are occupied by trying to figure out what has happened to them and why.  As they experience their first sunset under two moons, Richard considers the classic universe occupied by the 20th-century Christian, then continues, “But perhaps God had many children, and some of his children were adept at the manufacture of hypnotic crystals.  And other things.”

At first Richard misses London; then, as they camp out on an island on which they are apparently abandoned, he has a “vision of the morning rush hour packed with victims for the City’s concentration camp.” Richard considers that he is having entirely too many visions, and thinks, “Maybe I’m in a lovely nut-house in London” just before the hears the gunshots that herald the end of their idyl.  Instead of being ejected from a primeval garden by God, the two couples are rousted by what turn out to be another group of four dropped on the opposite shore of the island — but these are not humans.

Remaining Mum

To tell you any more about the plot would, I think, rob it of the elements of surprise on which Cooper depends to keep the story fresh.  I will disclose that it is an optimistic tale despite Richard’s and the other characters’ speculations, sufferings, and hardships.  Richard does speak of the “impossible unending promise of tomorrow,” and, particularly about their group, “the conspiracy of sex.” However, the really good thing about this book, aside from the quality of the writing, is the character development.  Most formulaic stories, including detective, romance, and science fiction — all of which Cooper has written — have little to no character development.  The people are often stock characters, Everyman or Everywoman, and they do not learn, change, or otherwise evolve during their stories.  This book is enough about evolution, change, development that I think perhaps “transit” is not just meant in terms of physically going from one place to another, but more like its synonym “movement” or the definition “pass through,” or (from the original Latin) “go across.”

Richard and his companions pass through many states of mind, grow and become different from the people they were when they first saw the crystals.  My criticisms below pale before this achievement.

The Demerits

You will be familiar with my first criticism.  It’s about the way women are generally treated in SF–even by women authors.  We are too helpless, too unintelligent, too timid to make our own decisions.  When they are first on the island, both women assert that “somebody has to be responsible for us” (the group of 4) and “make the decisions.” Barbara adds, “A man.” Of course it is Richard, who, despite a probationary period, remains the group leader afterward.  The women do learn to use weapons and to be responsible for themselves, but they do not make the decisions nor participate in them.

Second, the ending: I find it really unsatisfactory.  Without revealing too much, I feel as if Cooper, whose eighth novel this was, reached a word count and decided that was enough.  Perhaps he felt that with a wide-open future before his protagonists there was no need to expand further.  I’m too practical for that.  I want to know how their future could be accomplished with the tools they have, and I’m also pretty disappointed in the aliens who brought them to the garden.  The very qualities that they appreciate in the humans are the ones they seem to lack themselves.  Oh, well.  I say go read the book and see what you think.  I give it maybe 4 out of 5.  Pretty good.

Parting Note

And now for a word about my own future.  My own predicament is also “neither clear nor sane,” and I am doing the only thing I know to do about it, leaving for what I hope are greener pastures.  Look for me next month in San Francisco.

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Book, Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[May 2, 1964] The Big Time (May 1964 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Making it

Many people harbor a desire for fame — their face on the screen, their star on a boulevard, their name in print.  That's why it's been so gratifying to have been given plaudits by no less a personage than Rod Serling, as well as the folks who vote for the Hugos. 

But it wasn't until this month that one of us finally made the big time.  Check out this month's issue of Analog, for in the very back is a letter whose sardonic commentary makes the author evident even before one gets to the byline.  Yes, it's our very own John Boston, Traveler extraordinaire.

Bravo, Mr. Boston.  You've got a bright future.

As for Analog… there the outlook isn't so clear.

The Issue at Hand


Cover by John Schoenherr

The Problem of the Gyroscopic Earth, by Capt. J. P. Kirton

Captain Kirton's treatise on the link between the galactic magnetic field and Earth's precessions is both unreadable and ludicrous.  Basically (he argues), as the axis wobbles, pointing the poles at different sections of the sky in a many thousand-year cycle, the Milky Way works its voodoo and causes mass extinctions.

Pretty pictures are included, but I believe Kirton was indulging in some of Dr. Leary's happy juice when he wrote this.

One star (and only because the scale doesn't go any lower).

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


by John Schoenherr

Two years ago, James Schmitz introduced us to Telzey Amberdon, a 15 year old girl whose telepathic abilities allow her to establish the sentience of an alien species.  It was sort of like Piper's Little Fuzzy, and while it wasn't the most adeptly written piece, the premise and the protagonist were so intriguing that I wanted to see more stories about them.

The good news is that I got another story.  The bad news is that it isn't very good.

In this installment, Telzey goes off to the planet of Orado for advanced schooling at Penhanron College, along with Gonwil Lodis, an older girl on the threshold of adulthood and heir to a vast fortune.  When Telzey makes telepathic contact with Gonwil's fierce canine bodyguard, Chomir, she learns of a plot to murder Gonwil, but the details remain frustratingly out of reach.  Telzey must use her wits and her ever increasing talent to find the would-be assassins before they complete their mission.

It sounds pretty fantastic when written like this and, condensed down to its bare essentials, Undercurrents could be a great story.  But the thing is padded to oblivion with pointless exposition, with whole pages of content that get explained again in a few paragraphs later on anyway.  Moreover, I'm pretty sure that the dog is the lynchpin to the crime — I'll wager that in the conclusion, Chomir will turn out to have some sort of conditioning to turn on his owner.

I'll keep reading because I love the character, and I appreciate that there are a plethora of interesting women in Schmitz's world, but this could have been so much better in the hands of a more skilled (or interested?) writer.

Two stars.

Fair Warning, by John Brunner


by Michael Arndt

On a Pacific atoll, moments before the atom bomb's big brother is about to be set off, a supernatural being manifests to adjust the device's detonator and ensure that it can go off properly.  There's a Mene, Mene, Tekel, Parsin air about the event, but delivered with a sly smile.  Horrified, the scientists get drunk and smash their equipment. 

It wasn't badly written, but I found it kind of pointless.  Two stars.

Once a Cop, by Rick Raphael


by John Schoenherr

This is the second installment in Raphael's "Code Three" universe, featuring a future where the North American continent is crisscrossed by mile-wide freeways.  Cars hurtle from town to town at speeds over 200 mph, and the job of the Highway Patrolman is more necessary — and dangerous — than ever.

Once again, we follow the exploits of the seasoned Sergeant Ben Martin, rookie Clay Ferguson, and surgeon Kelly Lightfood, crew of "Beulah", a 60-foot patrol behemoth.  The piece depicts a number of crises, from a drunk speedster who soars off a highway curve, to a trucker who gets lost in a sandstorm, but the main arc involves a spoiled rich kid who is taken into custody after zooming through a closed lane and almost plowing into an accident scene.  Said kid's father is a big wheel in corporate America, and he tries everything from bribery to blackmail to get his son out of trouble. 

I hadn't expected to like this series so much, but Rafael does an excellent job of presenting the technical aspects of the story smoothly, and all of the vignettes are exciting.  It reads less like a cop show (viz. the TV show Highway Patrol) and more like a series on firefighters.  Plus, I dig that there is a prominent and tough woman in the crew.

Four stars, and keep 'em coming.

A Niche in Time, by William F. Temple


by Laszlo Kubinyi

Artists are a moody bunch, and apparently, most of the greats had profound moments of doubt that almost stymied their careers.  It turns out that, for many of them, the difference between throwing in the towel and going on to make masterpieces is an organization of time travelers.  They appear on the doorstep of the depressed creators and take them to the future to see the laurels of success.  Then the artists' memories are wiped, but the impetus remains.

No, it doesn't make a lot of sense, and this story would veer strongly into two-star territory if not for the final twist.  And, while the premise is hard to swallow, it is consistent unto itself.

Three stars.

Hunger, by Christopher Anvil


by Laszlo Kubinyi

Last up, we get a look at a failing settlement on a colony planet, whose inhabitants have been laid low by disease and mechanical failures such that just two men and a baby remain.  Their only hope is the sack of potatoes one of the fellows has managed to obtain from another straggling settlement.

The fortunes of the three are made all the worse when a pleasure yacht arrives from Earth and proceeds to set the forest afire with negligent aplomb.  The two colonists are left with but one option: use their resourcefulness to capture the yacht and make the jerks stop their wanton destruction.

This story was almost quite good.  The setup was interesting and I like a story that starts with one problem and then brings in another out of left field.  What keeps the piece solidly in the three-star range is the page of moralization at the end, in which a character opines that it's struggle that makes happiness possible, but then takes things too far by saying, "Back home, they're always talking about abolishing hunger.  They might think about it some more."  Plus, there's just some awkwardness and nastiness about the ending, and the suggestion of women as prizes that rubbed me the wrong way.

So, three stars.  Maybe it was better before Editor Campbell got his paws on it.

Summing up

April is done, so let's close the books and do the numbers!  Starting from the bottom, we have Amazing, managing to earn just two stars.  Some folks liked the Smith and Brown better than John Boston, but in general, it was a stinker.  That's a shame since it may be the only magazine to date with more words penned by women than by men.  The Analog we just got through, Boston letter notwithstanding, gets 2.6 stars.  Meanwhile F&SF earns an uninspiring 2.7 stars, but it did feature good stories by Clingerman and Carr (and if you like Ballard, by him, too).  Finally, Fantastic gets 2.9 stars, but if you're a Leiber and/or Moorcock fan, it might earn more from you.

This leaves three mags at three stars or higher, which is pretty good, actually.  IF gets exactly three, with the Cordwainer Smith story making it a worthy acquisition.  Worlds of Tomorrow has got some great stuff in it, even a good Jack Sharkey tale fer Chrissakes, and scores 3.3.  And the new New Worlds gets a respectable 3.4.

Women wrote 4 of the 43 new fiction pieces this month.  And despite the somewhat low showings of a lot of the mags, there were more standout tales this month than most.

Onward to June!

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




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Book, Magazine

[April 28, 1964] Out With the Old…. (New Worlds, May-June 1964)

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

To be honest, I wasn’t sure I would have anything to report to you this month. The changes in ownership and editorship at New Worlds last month had left things in a fair degree of confusion and chaos. Although new hands were at the wheel, it wasn’t clear when exactly we would see the fruits of their labours. Well, here we are, with an issue that seems determined to ring in the changes and make a dramatic impact.


cover by James Cawthorn

The issue at hand

This is a magazine with surprises from the start. The first shock I noticed when I unwrapped my copy, freshly delivered by the postman, is that the magazine has physically changed shape, from the traditional pulp digest size format to a more shelf-friendly paperback size. This strikes me as a good idea, possibly prolonging time on the newsstands or even in the shops where it can sit happily with the latest paperbacks at W. H. Smiths or John Menzies. 

I was also surprised that the magazine/paperback is cheaper than the old magazine, from 3/- to 2/6 [that's from about 72 cents to 60 cents for the Americans in the audience (Ed)]. This might make new readers more willing to ‘give-it-a-go’.

The next immediately noticeable change is the cover. Gone are the bland old unicoloured covers with boring type, replaced by something that immediately catches the eye. It’s deceptively simple, yet immediately striking. Whilst the artwork by James Cawthorn is not like that created by older artists such as Brian Lewis, Gordon Hutchings and Gerard Quinn, it is a very welcome alteration from those of late. Perhaps more importantly from a practical perspective it is also immediately recognisable, as different from the previous covers as it is from Astounding, Galaxy and the like, which should generate a much-needed unique identity.

The cover also highlights that the lead story is one written by one of the vanguards of this New Wave of stylish fiction. J. G. Ballard made quite an impression with his last story, The Terminal Beach in the March issue – astounding many and confusing and confounding others. Equinox thus arrives with high expectations.

But first, new editor Michael Moorcock sets out his stall with a bold mission statement in his editorial, A New Literature for the Space Age.  Quoting “controversial” American writer William Burroughs, Moorcock states that the new New Worlds will emphasise literary merit over science which suggests to me a focus on softer science fiction based around the social sciences rather than the old-style cliches of spaceships and planetary exploration. More inner space than outer space, perhaps! The choice of Burroughs as a quoted influence (and as an article later in the issue) is a clear sign that things are being deliberately shaken up. It also highlights that the expansion of consciousness through drugs is now part of the British mainstream – or at least amongst the young. To this we can add sex and what some might consider obscene language in order to, as Moorcock puts it, ‘(provide) a kind of SF which is unconventional in every sense and which must be recognised as an important revitalisation of the literary mainstream.’

This ambitious aim seems new and original, but actually is not that different from what previous editor John Carnell was attempting to achieve, admittedly with varying degrees of success. Perhaps with such a bold statement and a newer, younger, fresher face at the helm, the new New Worlds might just reverse the present trend of declining sales.

To the stories themselves. 

Equinox, by J.G. Ballard

And so, in this new age of literary SF, we begin with a bang. The latest in J. G.’s stories here in Britain is more straightforward than his last (The Terminal Beach, March 1964) and more similar in tone to his previous take on a disaster novel, that of The Drowned World (1962).
It’s all rather grim to begin with. Doctor Sanders is on a boat travelling up the Matarre River in the Cameroun. We discover that this is not a journey for leisure. He is in search of an old friend, Suzanne Clair, another doctor working at a leper colony and much of this first part of the story is about his journey into the unknown.
All of this is most un-science-fictional. It reads more like a tale of colonialism in the Third World, combined with the physical and metaphysical journey taken in Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.  This first part of Equinox builds the tension to create the now standard Ballard tone of grubbiness and decay, a world in decline.
And then it takes a left turn into the strange. The Ballardian twist is that the jungle is somehow changing things into crystal, by means and for reasons unknown. It’s both beautiful and yet also odd. Nobody writes like Ballard, which is why this is a good start for the new order.  4 out of 5.

[This story is definitely in the same universe as this month's The Illuminated Man. (Ed.)]

Never Let Go of My Hand, by Brian Aldiss

Aldiss’ latest gives us his usual sense of humour but this one also has a serious element towards the end. The beginning of the story starts like a comical Aldiss story.  Two humans, an elderly mother and her middle-aged son, are abducted by aliens and kept for observation. There’s some initial amusement over the strange nature of the aliens, which are weird. I feel that Aldiss has been staring at his fruit bowl too long for inspiration – one being banana shaped and the other pear-shaped! The humans discover that in their new environment normal laws of physics do not seem to exist and that time appears to run backwards. This has the result of them getting younger, which has consequences at the end of the story. It is also weirdly Freudian, up to the unconvincing end, which loses the story a point. Overall it feels like two ideas jammed together that don’t work well together. As an attempt to be different it’s OK, but not one of his best. 3 out of 5.

The Last Lonely Man, by John Brunner

Above this story, there’s a blurb that says that John is perhaps bigger in reputation with you in the States than here. That may be true, but this story doesn't represent his best work.

There’s a great idea within: in the future, instead of dying, people can choose to be transferred to another person’s body in a process known as Contact. People make contracts with family and friends so that they can continue after death, eventually being assimilated into the other person’s body. Where this one gets interesting is that there is a plot point where Mr. Hale, our main protagonist, has a chance meeting in a bar with someone who persuades him to take on a Contact contract as he has no one else to Contact with. It’s an intriguing premise, though the consequences of this arrangement seem too convenient and the ending is rather predictable.  3 out of 5.

The Star Virus, by Barrington J. Bayley

And here’s another author we know already, though the name may not be entirely familiar. ‘B.J. Bayley’, as his name is written on the contents page, is perhaps better known to you as Barrington J. Bayley, who has frequented New Worlds before, last as “P. F. Woods” in the April 1964 issue. He has had many pseudonyms – even the editor states at the beginning of this story that he has been ‘hiding his light under a bushel of pen-names’. 

The Star Virus is a space opera story involving space pirates and an alien artefact. Initially, it is strangely old-fashioned, to such an extent that, at first, I wondered if the author’s intent was to parody the old-school pulp SF story. It involves Rodrone, a space-adventurer, and his latest find, The Lens. (I’m sure that the Lens artefact is something that EE ‘Doc’ Smith may have misplaced or has had borrowed for a while.) Escaping arrest on a planet called Stundaker, with The Lens he rocks around the galaxy in a tale that feels like it would not be out of place in the Golden Age of the 1940’s. Where this tale is made more contemporary is by making the characters quite unpleasant and the story grimmer and more downbeat than anything from the Golden Age. It’s fast moving and feels like an attempt to tap into the old sense of wonder but with a modern, grittier perspective, which is admirable but didn’t quite work for me.  High marks for effort but I think for me it’ll depend on where it goes in the second (final) part next issue. 3 out of 5.

(Turns out I was wrong — this is a single-parter, and earns just 2 of 5 for it [MY 6-8-64])

Myth-Maker of the 20th Century, by J.G. Ballard

We finish with an article penned by J.G. Ballard, this time giving a non-fictional account of someone who both Ballard and Moorcock feel is a major new influence in the genre: William Burroughs. It’s a little generous in its hyperbole, but it is clearly heart-felt. As an agenda for the new style magazine it makes a good case.

As might be expected, there is no Book Review section and a very brief Letters page. I’m sure these will be added over time as the new magazine settles into its new form. It’ll be interesting to see what readers make of these changes and whether they agree with these major changes in direction.

Summing up

And there we have it – the first issue for a new age. Moorcock has pulled out all the stops here, managing to bring in many of his friends, the people who are reshaping the genre, in order to send out a clear message: this is new, this is different and they’re not afraid to take risks.

The future of British science fiction is uncertain, but based on what I’ve read here, it does appear to be vibrant, exciting and guaranteed to create a response. This issue is reflective of the current state of the British genre scene – very different to what has been before. It is hoped that such a bold statement will also pick up additional readers responsive to that, but only time will tell. 

This issue makes me realise that things at New Worlds have needed a jolt for a while, and this issue shows what can be done with new energy and enthusiasm. It’s not perfect, but I’ve not been as excited over an issue as this one for a long time. New Worlds is dead – long live New Worlds! Now it remains to be seen if this standard can be maintained or improved.

One last wrinkle – the magazine has changed from a monthly issue to a bimonthly release – at least for now. The next issue will therefore be out at the end of June (fingers crossed!), which is probably when I’ll speak to you next. 

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




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