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[December 31, 1963] A not unpleasant ordeal (Ordeal in Otherwhere by Andre Norton)

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by Cora Buhlert

The Newest from Andre Norton

1963 is almost history and here in Germany, I'm getting ready for New Year's Eve. I have friends coming over, a bowl full of spaceman's punch, plenty of nibbles, champagne in the fridge, a record player with all the latest albums and fireworks to welcome the new year.

I've been a good girl and so Santa brought me presents, including science fiction paperbacks from the US. I dug into one of the books right on Christmas Eve, even before Gruß an Bord, a radio program sending greetings to the crews of German ships around the globe, had finished.

That book was Ordeal in Otherwhere by Andre Norton, whose real name is Alice Marie Norton. I've heard of Norton before, right here at the Journey, but so far I've never read anything by her. Time to rectify that.

Ordeal in Otherwhere is the sequel to a novel entitled Storm over Warlock. I haven't read it, though Terra – Utopische Romane ran a translation last year. Not that it matters much, for Ordeal in Otherwhere is perfectly understandable, even if you haven't read the earlier book.

The story, in brief

The novel starts with our protagonist, a young lady named Charis Nordholm, on the run. Via flashbacks, the reader learns that Charis came to the colony world Demeter with her father, a government education officer. The colonists, a religious cult, were wary of the government and considered Charis "unfemale" because of her education. Then disaster struck in the form of a plague, which first killed the government agents, including Charis' father, and then spread to the colonists, hitting only men and post-pubescent boys. The superstitious colonists blamed the government and hunted down survivors like Charis.

With any other author, this religion versus science conflict would have been the story, for there is certainly novel's worth of material here. And indeed, I wonder whether Andre Norton wrote that novel elsewhere. But here, the events on Demeter are merely background, By chapter two, Charis has left Demeter behind, never to be seen again except in a dream sequence. Though I wonder what became of the colonists and if they survived.

Charis' salvation come in the form of a dodgy trader whose rocket ship just happens to land at the very moment Charis is recaptured. The trader sells indentured workers to the colonists in exchange for Charis. A teenaged girl indentured to a space captain of questionable morality raises all sorts of unpleasant possibilities. But Norton's books are marketed as juveniles and so Charis' virtue remains intact. The trader sells Charis to the merchant captain Jagan who miraculously has no unsavoury designs either. Jagan has a trading permit for Warlock, a planet inhabited by matriarchal aliens, the Wyvern. The Wyvern refuse to negotiate with men, so Jagan needs a woman. The first one went mad, so now it's Charis' turn.

Charis manages to send a message to a government outpost on Warlock. But before help can arrive, she finds herself compelled to walk across Warlock to meet the Wyvern. En route, Charis also finds a friend, the curl-cat Tsstu. There is a dreamlike, almost psychedelic quality to Charis' journey. Andre Norton has a gift for evocative descriptions of alien landscapes, which she employs to full effect here.

Charis' sojourn among the Wyvern, who teach her telepathy and teleportation, is brief, then Charis uses her newfound abilities to return to the trading post, only to find it destroyed, everybody inside dead. However, Charis also meets a new allies, Survey Corps cadet Shann Lantee and his pet wolverine Taggi. Shann is the protagonist of Storm Over Warlock. He is also – and that's sadly still remarkable even in our otherwise progressive genre – described as a black man. Alas, the cover – an otherwise accurate illustration of Charis, Shann, Tsstu and Taggi – completely ignores this.

Shann believes pirates are responsible for the attack on the trading post. However, a mysterious spear found on site points at the Wyvern. Both theories are sort of correct, because outlaws have freed Wyvern males from female control and are using them as muscle. In retaliation, the Wyvern females want to attack all humans. Only Charis can prevent this.

After many travails, Charis finds Shann a prisoner of the Wyvern, unresponsive and trapped inside a dream. Joining forces with Taggi and Tsstu, Charis enters Shann's dream prison and breaks him out. In the process, a mental bond is forged between all four of them.

It turns out that the pirate attack is a corporate takeover. A company has sent mercenaries to gain control of Warlock.The mercenaries have taken over the government base. They also have a device that can nullify the Wyvern’s power. And only Charis, Shann and their animal companions can stop them.

Shann is taken prisoner once more, but Charis escapes and warns the Wyvern and Shann's boss Ragnar Thorvald. But the plan to retake the base hinges on Charis, who stumbles into the base, babbling about snakes. The mercenaries take her to the medbay, which conveniently is also where Shann is held, catatonic in an attempt to avoid interrogation. With help from Tsstu, Taggi and his mate Togi, Charis manages to revive him.

The novel culminates in a standoff between Charis, Shann, Taggi and Tsstu on one side and the Wyvern males on the other. Shann and Charis broker a peace between the Wyvern males and females, so no one can exploit the rift between the sexes (which makes me wonder how they manage to reproduce) anymore.

Thorvald is impressed and drafts Charis as well as Tsstu and Taggi into service. Charis doesn't mind, because by now she has become fond of Shann and not just because of their mind link either.

My Observations

Charis is a likable protagonist, a smart and resourceful young woman of the kind that is still too rare in our genre. She spends much of the novel reacting to events, but towards the end, Charis is clearly in control and even Thorvald must bow to her will. Charis also rescues Shann repeatedly.

Unfortunately, Charis is the only competent human female we encounter – all others are either aliens, animals, nameless colonists or Charis' crazed predecessor. Besides, neither the government nor the villainous corporation consider sending women to Warlock, though that's a no brainer. In many ways, human society or what we see of it is the polar opposite of Wyvern society, a world where men hold all the power and women, particularly educated women like Charis, are a rarity. In fact, I wonder if Norton wanted to make just this point or whether she unconsciously defaulted to genre conventions.

The genuinely alien Wyvern are neither portrayed as pure menace nor as beyond reproach – after all, the females control the males and consider them mindless brutes incapable of rational thought. The portrayal of an alien society where the rift between males and females is so great that they barely seem part of the same species brings to mind books such as Le Deuxième Sexe (The Second Sex) by French philosopher Simone de Beauvoir or The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan, both of which diagnose the same problem in our society. I have no idea whether Andre Norton has read either book, but Ordeal in Otherwhere almost feels like a response to these and similar works.

Ordeal in Otherwhere is science fantasy rather than science fiction. There are spaceships and blasters, but Norton never gives much detail about either. Even the nullifier, the device on which the plot hinges, is never described nor do we learn where it came from. Meanwhile, "the Power" is basically magic, controlled via mystical symbols. Norton even acknowledges this, since the Wyvern females are referred to as witches throughout the novel. This seems to be a recurring theme with Norton, as her earlier novel Witch World shows. 

The hint of romance between Charis and Shann feels like an afterthought. True, Charis is quite taken with Shann from their first meeting on and worries much more about him than she ever thinks about her late father. We don't know Shann's feelings, because we never get any insight into him; Charis is the sole point-of-view character. Nonetheless, the romance feels oddly chaste. There is no kiss, let alone more. Holding hands is as far as Charis and Shann go. Even when Charis searches the unconscious Shann for useful items or when they sleep huddled together in a cave, Shann's head resting in Charis' lap, there is no hint of physical passion. This total lack of sex is not limited to Charis and Shann either – absolutely no one in this novel, whether human or Wyvern, seems to have sex with the possible exception of Taggi and Togi, since they have cubs.

I'm no big fan of animal companions, since they often seem too anthropomorphic. However, I really liked Tsstu and Taggi. Both are fully rounded characters in their own right, yet it's clear that their thought processes are very alien, when Charis links with them. Animal companions seem to be another recurring theme with Andre Norton. At one point, Charis asks Shann whether he is a Beastmaster, which happens to be the title of an earlier Norton novel. Coincidentally, I had to look up what sort of animal a wolverine is. I had assumed a wolf-like creature, but it turns out a wolverine is what we call "Vielfraß" (eats a lot) in German.

Summing up

Overall, I enjoyed Ordeal in Otherwhere, though there are some issues with the novel. The plot moves at a brisk pace, so brisk that I occasionally had to flip back to check if I hadn't accidentally skipped a page or two. There is easily material for two or three novels here and so Ordeal in Otherwhere feels rushed. Nonetheless, I will seek out other books by Andre Norton.

An enjoyable adventure in the grand old planetary romance tradition. Four stars.

Happy new year, from all of us at the Journey!  Here's to a bright 1964…

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Book, Magazine

[December 27, 1963] Democracy, Doctors and Decline ( New Worlds, January 1964)

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by Mark Yon

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Snapshot from England

Hello from 1964!

Christmas here was a good one. The weather, though cold, was nothing like last year’s record-breaking Winter, thank goodness.

As rather expected, The Beatles were Number 1 in the charts with I Want to Hold Your Hand. They have dominated British culture this year, and this going straight to the top of the charts here reflects that. There were pre-orders of over one million copies.

I’ve also had chance to catch up with some movies in the cinema. This year’s Christmas movie for the family was It’s A Mad Mad Mad Mad World, which we enjoyed a lot. Very silly, but we enjoyed looking out for all the cameos. We will probably go see Walt Disney’s The Sword in the Stone over the holiday season, which appeared in the cinema on Boxing Day here. Really looking forward to seeing how much of the novel remains. 

And so, to genre business. On the magazine front I have to start this month’s report with the sad validation of something I’ve been expecting for a while now. Since we last spoke it has been announced that “due to declining sales” New Worlds and Science Fantasy magazines are to close. It is sad, but not too surprising. I have for a number of months now been commenting on the variable quality of our homegrown content, and it has been clear in a number of ways that things have been difficult, so this is not a complete surprise. According to the news release we definitely have material until the April 1964 issue and then I guess we will see what happens. I am hopeful that this will not be the end of British-based magazines, though. There are rumours of a take-over bid that will allow at least one of the magazines to continue, but nothing is definite. Interesting times!

On a more positive note, the television programme Doctor Who has continued to enthral the household. It has become our family “must-see” on a Saturday teatime. New Traveller Jessica has written about this in detail, so I won’t go into it at great length. Whilst I was less impressed with the caveman story that followed the promising first episode, the latest tale is a science-fictional one which has introduced a metallic monster that Mr. H.G. Wells would have been proud of. The Daleks are quite inhuman and scarily strident in their determination for galactic subjugation. More importantly, they are an enormous success for the BBC. They have clearly struck a chord. I look forward to seeing where this goes.

The Reading Matter at Hand

To the January 1964 edition of New Worlds, then.

This month’s cover is a return to the plain but brightly-coloured style of a few months ago. No moonscape, but a lurid shade of yellow. The cover type is easy to read, as there is nothing else there to distract from the reader’s eye. Effectively simple, but will it sell magazines?  Not really sure that it matters given the month’s news, which may be Mr. Carnell’s view as well. The general impression is of a magazine on the cheap – how different to the lurid cover of your American issues!

The text inside is, thankfully, a little better.

on political attitudes in s-f, by Mr. John Brunner

Having bemoaned the lack of discussion in last month’s Editorial, this month’s examination of the importance of politics in s-f by Mr. Brunner is much more like the usual article of old. More importantly, it is literate, knowledgeable and even amusing, making the reader examine whether the traditional capitalist view is the only one and where such a review has originated from.

I know that this will have been written months ago, before the events of November, but it is still surreal to read about politics in fiction at a time when real-world politics is in such a state.  Democracy is still in flux.

Onto the stories!

dilemma with three horns, by Mr. Donald Malcolm

And here we have the return of Mr. Malcolm’s ongoing P.E.T. (Planetary Expedition Team) series, last seen in February 1963 with twice bitten. This one taps into that ‘sensawunda’ often exhibited by alien environments, to create a straightforward, old-school predicament that would not be remiss of, say, Analog magazine. Our intrepid explorers are given a seemingly impossible choice – stranded from their mothership, do they remain on the newfound planet and die through overexposure to increasing radiation or leave the planet and die because they have to pass through the extremely high Van Allen radiation belt?

To add to this, the third problem of the dilemma is that the intense gravity is causing spinal damage that is untreatable on the planet. I liked it, up to the rather convenient solution, which is plucked out of nowhere and devalues the story overall. What strikes me most though is how this story is not typical New Worlds fare these days. It shows how much the magazine has changed in the last couple of years.  3 out of 5.

the last generation, by Mr. Ernest Hill

And for contrast, this one is more like the “new style” stories of the magazine. A story set far in the future, filled with technical gobbledegook and an attempt to be controversial by combining science with religion. Really its little more than a more complicated version of what Mr. van Vogt was doing in the 1940’s.  It is rather full of its own self-importance, whereas I was less impressed. Kudos for trying to be different, but ultimately this falls short of its own ambition.  2 out of 5.

the countenance, by Mr. P. F. Woods

Mr. Woods’s latest resurrects that old idea that the infiniteness of space is too much for mere Humans to cope with. Summarise it as “Space is bad for you”. Not a new idea – Mr. Poul Anderson had something similar in Brain Wave in the 1950’s and then, of course, there’s Mr. Isaac Asimov’s famous Nightfall even further back. There’s even a touch of Mr. Lovecraft’s tales of Cosmic Horror, though the cause here is never clearly explained. It’s entertainingly done through the eyes of a young teenager and his older mentor but is a tad predictable – even with the rather expected and dispiriting twist. 3 out of 5.

toys, by Mr. John Baxter

Set in Mr. Baxter’s home territory of Australia, this story of a cobbler and the toys he creates is an updating of the old Pinocchio story. It makes its point about toys being weapons well – rather appropriately at Christmastime – but is also a little depressing.  3 out of 5.

the dark mind (Part 3 of 3), by Mr. Colin Kapp

The last part of Mr. Kapp’s serial continues at a breakneck pace and with not too much sense, full of the same large type face seen in the previous two. This time, Ivan Dalroi, with his dormant powers unleashed and with a single-minded determination for revenge, travels to other worlds to get it. The ending shows us the much bigger picture beyond Dalroi and gives Humanity a reputation for being the tearaway teenagers of the known worlds. It’s a frantic ending to an energetic story, that ties everything up in a bit of a rush at the finish. Whilst I’m always a little wary of a story that depends on textual gimmicks to work (although it did work for Alfred Bester, admittedly) it is good fun, even if it doesn’t dwell with the reader too long.  3 out of 5.

Strangely, and bearing in mind that we now know that we have only a limited time left for New Worlds, there’s a request for readers to contribute to a ‘State of the Nation’ report for 1963.  It is the first update since 1958, and so should reflect what Mr. Carnell has been trying to do over the last couple of years. I guess we’ll know before the magazine goes, which may be the point.  Perhaps it can be used to determine a fresh start.

Lastly, this month’s Book Reviews are split between editor Mr. John Carnell and book reviewer Mr. Leslie Flood. Mr. Carnell looks at the books imported from your good selves across the water. Of the novels, Mr. Hal Clement’s Mission of Gravity is “in a class of its own” and Ms. Rosel George Brown’s A Handful of Time is “quietly charming”. There are also a couple of anthologies worth looking at. Mr. Martin Greenberg’s anthology Men Against the Stars is a cut-down version of the US version but still “about the best of the current bunch”. Similarly, Mr. T. E. Dikty’s 5 Tales from Tomorrow is also shorter than its US counterpart but is praised for including Mr. Tom Godwin’s The Cold Equations. It is strange to read stories from 1955 appearing here nearly 9 years later, though they do show us how different things were “then” and “now”. We have changed a great deal.

Mr. Flood looks at the new British books new to print here. It’s not all good – Mr. George Hay’s Hell Hath Fury is a story collection from the now-defunct Unknown magazine, but has the reviewer questioning whether this is actually the best of the magazine in a “curiously dated and dispirited collection of ghosts and deviltry”.

Faring better is Mr. Arthur C. Clarke’s juvenile novel Dolphin Island, a minor work but an “entertaining adventure” that “does not talk down beyond the level aimed at.” Moon of Destiny by Mr. Lester de Rey and Destination Moon by Mr. Hugh Walters are also briefly mentioned as “space-flight adventures of some considerable excitement, plausibility and scientific accuracy”.

Summing up

The news of the magazine’s demise has dampened my enthusiasm of the issue a little. I guess that I should make the most of the magazine before it disappears. Again, though, it is a solid issue without being outstanding. I am glad that New Worlds has, unlike many, made it to the end of the year, but I am torn between feeling sad that I’ll never see its like again and bemusement over whether it will be actually missed when it goes.

Until next month.




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Book, Fashion, music, politics, sports, Magazine

[December 23, 1963] Ring Out the Old, Ring In the New (January 1964 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

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Ring Out the Old

Is it 1964 yet?


The caption says Happy New Year, Kids!

These happy young cosmonauts seem to think so.  That's a Vostok rocket they're carrying.  You remember Vostok, don't you?  The Soviet space program that sent the first man and the first woman into orbit?  No wonder they look so happy.

Here in the good old USA we do things a little differently.


It's not even Christmas yet, but this guy is ready.

No matter how you celebrate the holiday season, this is the time to remember the old and look forward to the new.  For Americans, of course, the most important change was the loss of a martyred President and the inauguration of a new one.  We are not likely to forget 1963 for a very long time.


Norman Rockwell pays tribute to the late JFK.

When it comes to space travel, yesteryear's new ideas turn old very quickly.  The X-20 program was cancelled this month, after seven years of development.  There goes $660,000,000 down the drain.  Looks like the proposed Dyna-Soar reusable spacecraft is now as dead as a dinosaur.


Now that's what I call a real spaceship!

The old British Empire continues to evolve into new, independent nations.  As of December 12, Zanzibar and Kenya are the newest members of the United Nations.

In the world of popular music, a new artist paid tribute to a man who lived more than seven hundred years ago.  Belgian singer-songwriter Jeanne-Paule Marie Deckers, better known in the United States as the Singing Nun, holds the top position on the American music charts with her original composition Dominique. 

Deckers is a member of the Missionary Dominican Sisters of Our Lady of Fichermont, where she took the name Sister Luc-Gabrielle.  In her native land she is called Sœur Sourire (Sister Smile.) The song pays tribute to Saint Dominic (1170-1221), for whom the order is named.  You don't have to be Catholic, or understand French, to appreciate the Singing Nun's pleasant voice, or the cheerful melody of her song.


The second foreign language song to reach Number One in the USA this year.  At least the Americans didn't give it a silly name, the way they changed Kyu Sakamoto's lovely tune Ue o Muite Arukō into Sukiyaki.

Ring In the New

Fittingly, the latest issue of Fantastic (and the first dated in the coming year) features the first half of a new novel, but one that was born twenty-five years ago.


(cover by EMSH)

The Lords of Quarmall, by Fritz Leiber and Harry Fischer

You may not know the name Harry Fischer.  A new writer, perhaps?  Well, not exactly.  In fact, Fischer created the famous characters Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser in a letter to his friend Leiber nearly three decades ago.  Since then, of course, the great fantasist has made the pair of adventurers his own.  In 1937, Fischer wrote about ten thousand words of a novel.  Leiber completed it, and it appears here for the first time.

Quarmall is a strange kingdom.  Its ruler lives in a keep above ground, but the rest of his realm lies deep down below.  He has two adult sons.  One reigns over the upper half of this underground land, the other the lower half.  The brothers are bitter rivals, each trying to destroy the other through treachery and magic.  They also plot against their father.  He, in turn, hopes to eliminate his sons and leave his kingdom to the unborn child of a concubine. 

Unknown to each other, Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser are each hired as a swordsman by one of the brothers.  When the king's archmage announces the death of his master, the conflict between the siblings explodes into open warfare.

As you would expect from Leiber, this tale of derring-do is full of vivid, exotic details.  The plot moves slowly, with much of the story taken up with the bored frustration of the two heroes.  Fafhrd's rescue of a lovely young slave doomed to be tortured provides some excitement.  No doubt the second half will provide plenty of sorcery and swordplay.  It's not a bad yarn, but hardly up to Leiber's usual standard.

Three stars.

Minnesota Gothic, by Dobbin Thorpe

Another new author?  Hardly.  Thomas M. Disch, who appears later in the magazine, hides behind this peculiar pseudonym.  The story is about a little girl named Gretel, but don't expect an old-fashioned fairy tale.  The time is now.  Gretel's mother leaves her in the care of a very old woman and her strange, bedridden brother.  Black magic is involved, but not the way you might expect.  This is a well-written, chilling little story.  I wouldn't advise reading it on a dark and stormy night.

Four stars.

The Word of Unbinding, by Ursula K. LeGuin

With four or five stories to her credit, LeGuin is still a relatively new voice in fantasy fiction, but her skill makes her seem like an old pro.  Her latest tale of enchantment begins with a wizard trapped in a prison made of darkness.  An evil sorcerer robbed him of his magic staff and locked him away.  Although the loss of his staff greatly diminishes his power, he still possesses the ability to transform himself.  He attempts to escape in many ways, only to be recaptured and made even weaker.  In order to defeat his enemy, he must pay the ultimate price. 

The author creates a dark fantasy of great imagination and vividness.  The reader is sure to empathize with the despair and heroism of the protagonist.

Four stars.

Last Order, by Gordon Walters

Like LeGuin, Walters is a writer with few published works. Sadly, he doesn't share her talent.  The story begins on an asteroid.  An undescribed being tries to protect its master from an attack by police robots.  When the master dies, it seeks revenge on all those who resemble the robots.  The scene shifts to Earth.  A detective with a fear of space travel receives an invitation to investigate the asteroid with his old partner, who left for space long ago.  It turns out that the vengeful being kills anyone who arrives on the asteroid.  After a dangerous encounter with the being, the truth comes out.

The characters frequently speculate about the possibility of a disembodied alien lifeform joining with spacemen in symbiosis.  This turns out to be a complete red herring.  The reader quickly learns that the spacesuits of the future are intimately connected to the bodies of their wearers, so the climax of the story is no surprise.  There's much too little plot for a novelette.

Two stars.

A Thesis On Social Forms and Social Controls in the U. S. A.,by Thomas M. Disch

The secret identity of Dobbin Thorpe emerges from disguise with this fictional essay.  It describes a nightmarish world of the future.  In the Twenty-First Century, China and the Soviet Union destroy each other in an atomic war.  Africa collapses into a state of permanent crisis.  Europe is under the control of the Vatican.  (Most Protestants move to the United States, which now includes Canada.) Only Australia emerges unchanged.

Disch begins with the famous dictums of George Orwell.  War is Peace.  Ignorance is Strength.  Freedom is Slavery.  To these, he adds two more.  Life is Death.  Love is Hate.  One by one, he describes how these principles apply to American society.  All adult males serve one year out of every five as a brutalized slave.  The other four years they indulge in unrestrained orgies of pleasure.  Women must care for the children they bear from multiple mates, or else serve as laborers or prostitutes. 

The author paints a terrifying portrait of a culture that deliberately chooses to be schizophrenic.  The essay's cold logic convinces the reader that such an insane world might truly exist.  The stories by Thorpe and Disch could not be more different, except for the fact that they both induce a strong sense of foreboding.

Four stars.

Summing Up, and a Bonus Review

The new year begins with a very pessimistic issue of the magazine.  From the sadistic Lords of Quarmall, to the insane world of the future, hardly a hint of hope appears in its pages.  Even the book review by S. E. Cotts deals with a novel haunted by doom.  I have read The Sundial by Shirley Jackson, discussed in the column.  It's a very strange book.  A group of eccentric people waits for the end of the world inside a weird house.  Like everything I have read by Jackson, it is unique.  I recommend it for reading by the fireplace on a dark night, waiting for the old year to fade away.

Five stars.

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Book, Magazine, Science / Space Race

[December 21, 1963] Soaring and Plummeting (January 1964 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

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The Balloon goes Up

It's been something of a dry patch for American space spectaculars, and with projects Gemini and Apollo both being delayed by technical and budgetary issues, it is no wonder that NASA is hungry for any positive news.  So you can excuse them for trumpeting the launch of Explorer 19 so loudly — even if the thing is just a big balloon.  How excited can anyone get about that?

As it turns out, plenty excited.

Explorer 19, launched December 19, 1963, is a spherical balloon painted with polka-dots (they keep the sun from making it too hot or cold), and what it does is measure the atmosphere as it circles the Earth.  Not with any active instruments, but just by moving.  All orbiting spacecraft have an ideal route, one determined by Newton's laws.  If there were no air at all up there, the satellite would just keep orbiting in the same path forever (though the Moon and the Sun exert their own influences).  But there is air up there.  To be sure, the "air" up above 600 kilometers in altitude is hardly deserving of the name — it's a harder vacuum than we can make on the ground!  Nevertheless, the stuff up there is denser than what is found in interplanetary space, and we can tell its density from the slow slip of Explorer 19 in its orbit. 

If we want to know what kind of science we'll get from Explorer 19, all we have to do is look to Explorer 9.  Launched two years ago, it is a virtual twin.  Both Explorers were launched from cheap, solid-fuel Scout rockets.  Both have tracking beacons that failed shortly after launch.  The only way to get any data from these missions is to track the satellites by sophisticated cameras.

Explorer 9 has already contributed immensely to our knowledge of Earth's upper atmosphere.  Thanks to constant photographic tracking of the satellite, scientists have seen the expansion of the atmosphere as it heats up during the day as well as shorter term heating from magnetic storms in the ionosphere.  As a result, we are getting a good idea of the "climate" on the other side of the atmosphere over a wide range of latitudes. 

This is not only useful as basic science; the folks who launch satellites now have a better idea how long their craft will last and the best orbits to shoot them into, saving money in the long run.  It is one of the many examples of how the exploration of space bears immediate fruit and also extended benefits.

And that's something to be excited about!

The other shoe drops

On the other hand, the January 1964 Fantasy and Science Fiction begins the year on the wrong foot.  It is yet another collection of substandard and overly affected tales (leavened by a few decent pieces that somehow manage to get through), something like what Analog has become, though to be fair, I'm really looking forward to Analog this month. 

But first…

Pacifist, by Mack Reynolds

The best piece of the month is Pacifist by the prolific, seasoned, and (on occasion) excellent Mack Reynolds.  On a world much like ours, but where the balance of power is held between the north and south hemispheres, an anti-war group determines that the only way to curb our species' bellicose tendencies is to frighten the war-wagers with violence.  But can you really quench fire with fire?

It works because of the writing, something Reynolds never has trouble with.  Four stars.

Starlight Rhapsody, by Zhuravleva Valentina

This curious piece, in which a young woman astronomer discerns intelligent signals being broadcast from the nearby star, Procyon, originated in the Soviet Union.  It was then translated into Esperanto, of all languages, and then found its way into English.  The result is…well, I'll let our Russian correspondent give us her thoughts:


by Margarita Mospanova

In Russian, Starlight Rhapsody is actually a very pretty story — melodic and full of poetry, literally and metaphorically. It’s fairly melancholy, with just a touch of underlying Soviet optimism, nothing too garish in this case. But the translation…

Man, the translation makes me want to tear my hair out. It’s awful. It misses entire paragraphs of text as well as actual poems in the beginning and in the end. And the prose itself in no way resembles the original. Hell, it’s as if the translator used some kind of computerized translation device and just removed the grammatical mistakes afterwards. I’m really disappointed because the original story is really unexpectedly good.


by Gideon Marcus

You can get a glimmer of the story's original strength even from the twice-butchered version that editor Davidson provides.  Thus, three dispirited stars.

The Follower, by Wenzell Brown

Witness the perfect match: A milquetoast who decides to make his mark on society by stalking someone, and a paranoiac who only finds satisfaction when someone really is after him.  But their game develops a twist when their twin psychoses create a third player combining the worst aspects of both.

Sounds intriguing, doesn't it?  If it were better done or more profound in its revelation, it might have been.  As is, it straddles the line between two and three stars, leaning toward the former.

The Tree of Time (Part 2 of 2), by Damon Knight

The conclusion of last month's adventure, in which a not-quite-man from the future is abducted from our time by frog people from his and then left to die in an experimental dimension ship.

After a reasonably thrilling beginning, the book reverts to what it was from the start — a pointless pastiche of the worst elements of science fiction's "Golden Age."  Deliberate or not, it's no less unreadable for it.

One star.  Feh.

Thaw and Serve, by Allen Kim Lang

Lang explores an interesting idea: hardened criminals are quick-frozen and deposited two centuries into the future.  It is the ultimate passing of the buck.  Turns out the future doesn't know what to do with them either, choosing to dump them in the wilds of Australia.  There, they fight it out for the televised amusement of the future-dwellers.

Written and plotted with a heavy hand, it's not one of Lang's better works.  In fact, the best thing about the story is the biographical preamble (Lang's middle name was given to him by Koreans during the war).

Two stars.

Nackles, by Curt Clark

"Curt Clark" (I have it on good authority that it's actually Donald Westlake) offers up the chilling story of the creation of a deity.  In this case, it's Santa Claus' dark shadow, the child-abducting "Nackles," who is caused to exist the same way as any other god — through widespread promulgation of belief.

Deeply unpleasant, but quite effective.  Three stars (four if this is your kind of thing).

Round and Round and …, by Isaac Asimov

At long last, I finally understand the concept of the "sidereal day," as well as the length of such days on other planets.  Thank you, Doctor A!  Four stars.

The Book of Elijah, by Edward Wellen

If you haven't read First and Second Kings (or as the uninitiated might call them, "One and Two Kings"), Elijah was a biblical prophet, passionate in his service of the Lord, who ascended to Heaven in flame and is due to return just before the End Times.  Ed Wellen, best known for his "funny" non-fact articles in Galaxy, writes about what happens to Elijah during his sojourn off Earth.

The Book is written in pseudo-King James style and is about as fun as reading the Bible, without any of the spiritual edification.  One star.

Appointment at Ten O'Clock, by Robert Lory

Last up, we have the tale of man with just ten minutes to live…over and over and over again.  Ten O'Clock has the beginning of an interesting concept and some deft writing, but it is short-circuited in execution.  It reads like the effort of a promising but neophyte author (which, in fact, it is — this is his second work).  Three stars.

This is what the once proud F&SF has been reduced to: a lousy Knight serial (shame, Damon!), a disappointing translation, some bad little pieces, and a couple of bright spots.  And Asimov's column, which I read, even if few others seem to.

Oh well.  I've already paid for the year.  Might as well see it through.

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[December 7, 1963] SF or Not SF?  That Is the Question (They came from mainstream, 1963 edition)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

A raft of non-SF SF

Readers of this column with long memories will recall that, at the end of 1962, we looked at major science fiction and fantasy novels and collections published as mainstream fiction.  The most important such work this year was Kurt Vonnegut's novel Cat's Cradle, already discussed in detail by our own Vicki Lucas. 

Another was The Man Who Fell to Earth by Walter Tevis, best known for his novel The Hustler, adapted into a major film a couple of years ago.  Once again, Ms. Lucas has provided a fine analysis of this book.


The novel is obviously about the game of pool.


The movie poster doesn't seem to have much to do with pool.

Here are two more books I think should be checked out by SF fans who might have missed them:

Planet of the Apes, by Pierre Boulle

A French import offers another example of the blurred lines between science fiction and the literary mainstream.  Pierre Boulle is famous for Le Pont de la Rivière Kwaï (translated into English as The Bridge over the River Kwai, and source of an award-winning movie, with a slight change in the title.)



Don't ask me how over turned into on

This year the author ventured into outer space, with his novel La Planète des singes, known in the United States as Planet of the Apes.

(My sources in the publishing world tell me that the book will be available in the United Kingdom next year, under the title Monkey Planet.)

Boulle's novel begins in the far future, with a couple traveling among the stars.  They discover an old manuscript.  This takes us into a flashback, set in the relatively near future.  Three men journey to an Earth-like planet orbiting the star Betelgeuse.  They discover that intelligent, civilized apes inhabit the world, along with naked, speechless human beings treated as lower animals.  Gorillas are police and military; orangutans are priests and politicians; chimpanzees are scientists and technicians.  The apes are at the same technological level as Twentieth Century Earth, with cities, automobiles, and firearms.  They even smoke tobacco.  The three astronauts meet different fates.  It all leads up to a twist ending.  The author's intent is satiric, showing the reader how little difference there is between people and other primates.  The story may not be very plausible, but it captures the reader's imagination.  Special notice should go to Xan Fielding, who translated both of Boulle's novels into very readable English. 

Three stars.

Glide Path, by Arthur C. Clarke

We've seen how mainstream authors venture into science fiction, sometimes successfully.  It doesn't often happen the other way around.  This year Arthur C. Clarke proved he is just as comfortable writing about the past as he is about the future, with his novel Glide Path.

The story takes place in England during the Second World War.  The protagonist is a young officer in the Royal Air Force.  He is a technician, working on a program known as Ground Controlled Descent.  GCD allows a pilot to land in heavy fog.  Using radar, a controller on the ground talks the pilot down.  The plot is episodic, involving both the new technology and daily life in the RAF.  The author creates a convincing portrait of the time and place, based on his own experiences.  Unlike most war novels, the book lacks scenes of battle.  This may disappoint readers looking for thrilling action.  The most dramatic sequence happens late in the story, when huge amounts of fuel fill the night sky with towering flames, in an attempt to burn off the fog. 

Three stars.

Boulle's science fiction novel is likely to be marketed to readers of mainstream fiction, just as Clarke's war story is likely to be promoted to science fiction fans.  Let us avoid relying solely on arbitrary divisions in literature, and instead keep our eyes open for good reading, no matter how it might be labelled.




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[November 21, 1963] Words for bondage (Laurence M. Janifer's Slave Planet)

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by Erica Frank

I opened Laurence Janifer's latest novel, Slave Planet with trepidation. Slavery is an intense topic whose abhorrent nature should not be open for debate, but using it in the title implies some kind of conflict related to it. I doubted the plot was, "noble hero discovers planet of slaves, destroys evil masters, frees the oppressed," especially since the tag line is "a world at stake in a deadly game of galactic strategy." Strategy plus slaves means a focus on profits-vs-ethics that any decent person should reject without thinking.

Sure enough, by chapter two, we have the background: Fruyling's world is the source of a rare and valuable metal, and on it lives a race of "uncivilized" aliens who are forced to work to mine that metal. Most of the human Confederation employees on Fruyling's are born and raised there; they cannot leave, lest the general public realize that their beloved government, in which personal rights and liberties are treasured, keeps a whole planet of alien slaves.

The aliens are an obvious homage to Walt Kelly's cartoon alligator:

"They were called Alberts, after a half-forgotten character in a mistily-remembered comic strip dating back before space travel, before the true beginnings of Confederation history. If you ignored the single, Cyclopean eye, the rather musty smell and a few other even more minor details, they looked rather like two-legged alligators four feet tall, green as jewels, with hopeful grins on their faces and an awkward, waddling walk like a penguin’s. Seen without preconceptions they might have been called cute."

The story follows a handful of characters. The most interesting is Dr. Anna Haenlingen, the head of the Psychological Division, who designs the programs that keep the slaves happy. She is ancient and formidable. She's also the only woman who talks about something other than the men: she's focused on the future of the world after the Confederation discovers its unsavory practices.

For the most part, the men talk about how to train the aliens and about the ethics of slavery and servitude. (The women mostly talk about the men; even Dr. Haenlingen's assistant, who speaks with her about Division plans, gets caught up in a romance.) The aliens mostly talk about how good it is to serve the masters, and how hard it would be to live any other way.  It is clear that the author is not promoting this idea, but showing how hard it is to argue against it with simple, easy-to-understand vocabulary.

These are, after all, the same arguments used nearly a hundred years ago to justify human slavery: the proponents claimed that the slaves "had a better life" than they would in their "savage" homelands, and that servitude and "correction" of mistakes or insolence was necessary to be able to keep "helping" the slaves. The fact that the slave owners got profits and the slaves didn't, and that a major industry relied on slave labor, which was cheaper than complex machinery, was conveniently left out of the discussion.

Janifer, fortunately, does not leave that out. It is mentioned that machinery was considered, but rejected for its cost, which would raise the cost of the metal throughout the Confederation. Most of the human characters are uncomfortable with the fact of slavery; however, the book portrays their discomfort as a form of suffering, as if slavery were equally damaging to the humans and the Alberts. Some of the characters in Slave Planet constantly give their justifications for slavery, and the tone is so dry and matter-of-fact that it's impossible to tell if this is intended to be ironic or if Janifer is actually claiming that ownership of sentient beings is a complex issue with many sides.

Some of the on-planet employees believe they're "helping" the natives by providing them with health care and infrastructure they would not otherwise have. Others are pretty sure that no, there is nothing about the company's activities that are motivated by altruism. Some of the Alberts believe that the masters are good since they supply food and shelter, and that following the humans' orders is the natural way of things. Some disagree, but since they have been raised to serve the humans, they don't even have the language to explain why freedom is important to them, nor why they feel slavery is wrong.

Dr. Haenlingen is the only one in the book who does not try to moralize or justify slavery. She is aware that it is an economic arrangement, and not one created for the benefit of the Alberts. At first, she comes across as refreshingly level-headed and quite practical. Later, she seems almost evil: she would be willing to go to great lengths to protect the system on Fruyling's world. Her practicality prevents her from doing so; she is the first to recognize that once the public learns of the Alberts and how they are treated, the entire regime will quickly fall.


Commemorative stamp to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation

Overall, the book was a pleasant read, although the moralizing got a bit heavy-handed in spots. The book kept me interested. Although the ethical issues were straightforward, I could not guess what would happen next, even though there were no last-minute surprises. The world described in the opening chapters continues through the end. This is not a bleak story, but it is also not a cheerful one. The Alberts' philosophies were fascinating: they had arguments both for and against slavery in simple language, without the benefit of a well-rounded education. They did not seem stupid, just woefully lacking in vocabulary and a structure for their thoughts. The writing style is engaging and the characters distinct, but I rolled my eyes more than once at the human masters' claims that they were also victims. Most of the characters were a bit flat, but I would happily read an entire series about Dr. Haenlingen.

Three stars




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[November 17, 1963] Galactoscope (Three Ace Doubles!)

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by Gideon Marcus

Here at the Journey, we read virtually every piece of science fiction and fantasy published.  Our goal is not only to provide you with a complete encyclopedia of available works, but also to ensure we can make informed decisions come award-giving time.

Now, that's a lot of printed words.  It used to be that I would publish a separate article for each book, but with such a big backlog of books waiting to be reviewed, I decided it'd be best to do the queue all at once, like they do in the review columns of the various magazines (for instance, Amazing's "Spectroscope").

As it turns out, the volumes you'll hear about today are all Ace Doubles (published with two complete books back-to-back and reversed), so if you're a fan of these odd blue-and-whites, this will help you manage your 1963 shopping list.

Alpha Centauri or Die!, by Leigh Brackett

Leigh Brackett is a legend.  One of the relatively few women in the SFF arena, she is also a renowned scriptwriter, having penned the screenplay for The Big Sleep and Rio Bravo.  Brackett has managed to keep plugging along in Hollywood in spite of the prevailing opinion of the last decade that women just don't get "male" genres like crime dramas and westerns.

Her SFF works have been recommended to me with increasing volume and frequency so I was delighted to have a chance to enjoy her latest novel, luridly titled (as all Ace Doubles are) Alpha Centauri or Die!.  This book is really two stories in one: Part 1 involves a rebel movement on Mars led by the human, Kirby, and his love, the Martian humanoid named Shari.  They dare to steal a manually controlled space ark, filled to the brim with colonists eager to emigrate, and evade the robotic sentinel spaceships that patrol the solar system.  Their destination: an inhabitable planet in the triple Alpha Centauri system.

There's a lot of action and chases, both planetbound and in the black gulf between the stars, culminating in a an exciting scene in which a squad from the fleeing Lucy Davenport boards and deactivates a pursuing robot fighter ship.

Part 2 takes place on the newly colonized world, which shortly after settlement, is besieged by unseen, psionically equipped aliens that kidnap terrans via teleportation.  Will this diabolical race end the colony, or is it all a misunderstanding?

That the two sections are so different in subject matter and tone is no coincidence.  Alpha Centauri or Die! is a fix-up of two stories from the early 1950s, both published in Planet Stories.  I'd only previously read The Ark of Space (on which Part 1 is based) so I can't tell you if the two tales were ever meant to be linked.  In any event, the resultant novel is not a great introduction to Brackett's works.  Particularly frustrating is the short shrift the women characters get, even at the hands of a woman author.  With the exception of Shari, they are a herd of complaining housewives.  The Martian heroine fares a bit better, joining the raiding party against the robot starship and using her esper powers to help deduce the nature of the beasts of Alpha Centauri, but her exploits point out just how alone she stands in representation of an entire gender.

Aside from that, Alpha Centauri or Die! is a competent but not groundbreaking action piece, slightly less than the sum of its parts, not progressing far from the pulp era in which Brackett made her first appearances.

Three stars.

Legend of Lost Earth, by G. McDonald Wallis

It's common practice in SFF for women to initialize their first names (or flat-out take on male pseudonyms).  I have been told vociferously by one of my readers that this practice has nothing to do with any bias against women in the genre; nevertheless, it is puzzling that men don't seem to do it.  In any event, the "G." stands for Geraldine, and this is her second Ace Double, the first being The Light of Lilith, which I have not read.

Lost Earth takes place on the dusty, red world of Niflhel, its atmosphere foul with the soot of a million mines.  Even the memory of Earth, destroyed by a human-caused catastrophe, is taboo.  But Giles Chulainn is seduced by the teachings of a secret society that keeps the half-remembered dream of their home planet alive.  A cat and mouse game ensues, with Giles taking on the role, by turns, of a subversive, a double, and then a triple agent. 

The true nature of the barren colony world and its connection with the lost verdant fields of Earth is ultimately revealed, though by the time you get there, you might not care, having been increasingly bombarded with a bamboozle of pseudo-scientific mysticism, Celtic legend, and plot incoherence. Nevertheless, Lost Earth does have a strong first half and a nice flavor throughout.  Three stars.

Captives of the Flame, by Samuel R. Delany

Delany is another author I'm catching on his second Ace book, the first being The Jewels of Aptor, which came out last year.  He is noteworthy for being the first black SF novelist (I believe; correct me if I'm wrong).

Captives of the Flame takes place on a blasted Earth, the remnants of humanity confined to just one city and its adjacent shoreline and islands.  Around it lies a radioactive barrier that has constricted over the years: just two generations before, it engulfed the city's neighboring polis, forcing its inhabitants to flee.  It is implied early on that the barrier is not of human origin.

The novel details the efforts of a mismatched band of heroes, including an exiled member of the royal family rendered invisible by the radiations, a young woman acrobat/thief, and an ambitious Duchess, to determine the true nature of the alien incursion and to use the extraterrestrials' powers to right the bellicose, corrupt human government. 

On the plus side, the novel features an interesting world and a refreshingly varied set of characters, male, female, and alien.  On the red ink side of the ledger, the plot is sketchy, and viewpoints shift with little warning or context.  I have to wonder if this is the author's fault or simply a result of Ace's hatchety editing style. 

Three stars.

The Psionic Menace, by Keith Woodcott

Those in the know are aware that "Keith Woodcott" is a pseudonym for English writer, John Brunner.  And those who have followed this column since the arrival of author Mark Yon will soon find that The Psionic Menace is an Ace-style retitling of Crack of Doom, which appeared under the Woodcott name in two issues of New Worlds last year.  It's about a universe-spanning psychic distress call, and the efforts humanity takes to decipher it.

It is word for word the same book, which means you will enjoy it as much (or little) as the serialized version.  Mark gave it three stars.

The Rebellers, by Jane Roberts

What a beginning on this one!  Gary Fitch is an artist on a crushingly overpopulated Earth.  His job is to take old classics and make copies as vehicles for conveying government propaganda.  He and his colleagues live under lock and key in a barracks, barely receiving enough sustenance for survival.  Yet their situation is the enviable one for outside their prison walls lies the teeming masses of humanity, hungrier and denied access to the books and artworks the painters have.

One day, rioting plebeians storm the prison walls, providing Fitch an opportunity to escape — from the frying pan into the fire.  The artist hooks up with an insurgent organization, "The Rebellers" (why not simply "The Rebels?") but their motives aren't as simon-pure as advertised.  Worse yet, a virulent plague is spreading, threatening to wipe out the human race once and for all.  Can Fitch take over the remnants of local government to avoid complete catastrophe?

Roberts' book starts out strong but resolves abruptly and rather implausibly.  For instance, it is discovered that the plague largely affects pregnant women and mandatory birth control becomes the linchpin on which combating the virus turns.  If birth control is so ubiquitous and effective, why wasn't it in common use before our planet was choked with people? 

This is the first novel by Roberts, whose short fiction I've greatly enjoyed.  While this book is a mixed success, she may get the hang of the form in time for her next effort.  In any event, it's nice to see her back after a four-year hiatus.

Three stars.

Listen!  The Stars!, by John Brunner

Last up is the novelization of John Brunner's Listen! The Stars!, a novella that appeared in Analog last year.  The tale of the "Stardroppers," who use extra-dimensional telescopes to plumb the unknown depths of the universe was one of my favorites from Brunner.  In fact, I gave it a Galactic Star.

Unlike The Psionic Menace, this Ace version is significantly revised.  The story's no different, and all the same scenes are there, but Brunner (or the editor) has padded every paragraph with enough extra words to fill 96 pages.  Or maybe Analog's editor, John W. Campbell, had cut the original to fit the pages of his magazine.

In any event, both versions are good, worthy of five stars.  If you want a shorter read, find the magazine, and if you want something lengthier, well, you get this and the Roberts novel, too.

So there you have it, a typical grab bag of Ace production.  A good half of it was scoured from the pages of the magazines, and only the Brunner (under his own name) really hits it out of the park.  Still, at 20 cents a novel (40 cents for a double), all of it at least readable, you could do a lot worse.

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[November 11, 1963] An integral future (Yevgeny Zamyatin's We)

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by Margarita Mospanova

Hello, dear readers!

Do you have books that you’ve always wanted to read but never got the chance to? Books that you’ve heard so much about they’ve long since made their place in your bookish plans and budgets, but haven’t quite managed to reach your hands?

The reason these books remain unopened still might be lack of time. Not quite full wallet. Or simply their absence from the nearest bookstore. But in my case, the reason often was censorship.

It won’t come as a surprise to many of you, but being a published author in the USSR almost unfailingly meant having to obey various rules and regulations of the people in power, written or unwritten. As such, many of the titles that I undoubtedly would have greatly enjoyed at the time were rebuffed by the editors before they even saw the light of day.

Now that I no longer reside in the Soviet Union, obtaining Soviet books is even harder. However, some of them were fortunate enough to trickle through the borders, with or without their authors. And here we come to the subject of this humble review.

We by Yevgeny Zamyatin written in 1921 and first published in English in 1924 in New York, is still very much forbidden in USSR. The original Russian edition only came out in 1952 and, again, only in New York.

Having read the book, I can certainly see why.

The story is set far in the future, at least a thousand years or more, with the world having been conquered by a so called United State. As the name implies, there are no other countries or nations, though that might be attributed to the fact that a war wiped out more than 99% of the planet’s population several centuries earlier.

Curiously enough, though perhaps not unexpectedly at all, the war was fought over food and resulted in the creation of a petroleum-based substance that took its place on the people’s plates. The more conventional meals were slowly forgotten.

The nation, meanwhile, is governed by a single person, called the Well-Doer, who is overly fond of mass surveillance and standardizing his subjects. Names have been replaced by given numbers. People live in glass, completely transparent, apartments, and cannot draw down the curtains unless they have, ah, received the pink permission slip. Yes, it means exactly what you think it means.

When they go to sleep, they no longer dream, as dreaming is an illness and has been cured long ago. At breakfast, they chew exactly 50 times per each bite. On the streets, they move as one, marching in lines, wearing the same uniforms. Confusing emotions and imagination gave way to logic and reason. To formulae, equations, and science. There is no freedom. The people are happy.

They are also planning to build a space rocket (with the appropriate mathematical name, "The Integral") to share their way of life with any extraterrestrial life forms they might encounter.

The story follows one of the lead builders working on the rocket. A model citizen, D-503, decides to start a journal, depicting his daily life and thoughts, and then put it onto the rocket. Enlighten the aliens, so to speak.


the author

I will let you, dear readers, read for yourself exactly what we learn through each of D-503’s entries, but suffice it to say, action, drama, and (really, really awkward) romance abound. As well as, at times, rather confused ramblings of a man who has never before been confronted with illogical feelings.

Naturally, I read the novel in Russian. However, I did take time to peruse the 1924 English translation as well. On its own, it seems to be a fairly good read, but I’m afraid it falls somewhat short of the source. In the Russian We the writing is uneven, full of short bursts and ragged edges, that seem to be smoothed or faded when one opens up the English copy. And I’m not talking about the length of the sentences, but rather the structure and choice of words. Still, that slight demerit only really matters if one makes it a point to compare the two versions. If you have the chance (and ability) read it in Russian. Otherwise, the English copy will serve perfectly well.

The style of prose itself is very much in tune with the character, never straying too far from what we might expect, and yet delivering a gripping account of D-503’s deconstruction of his own world. The contrast between the mathematical precision of some parts and emotional upheavals of the others works nicely to highlight the faults of the world Zamyatin built.

Despite the bleakness and sheer uniformness of the United State, the characters we meet throughout the novel are vibrant and very much alive. Every single one of them has something to say, and every single one of them is worth listening to. The characters are the novel’s strongest side, and after finishing the book, I caught myself wanting to know what happens to them next.

In fact, the characters have quite possibly outshone any and all possible allusions to USSR and its problems for me. The satire and criticisms are plain, don’t get me wrong, but considering that Zamyatin wrote the book when the Soviet Union was only in its infancy, the impression they left with me is not quite as deep as one might expect. 

I greatly enjoyed We, for all its dystopian gloominess. This is a book that has now become a permanent fixture on my bookshelves and I foresee many rereads in its future. And so, dear readers, I invite you to try it out for yourselves. I promise it will not disappoint.

I give “We” by Yevgeny Zamyatin five integrals out of five. 




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[Oct. 30, 1963] Jim Knopf and Lukas the Train Engine Driver by Michael Ende: A Classic in the Making

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by Cora Buhlert

Today, I'm going to talk about a children's fantasy series that may well be a future classic. But first, I want to talk about politics. For since October 16, 1963, West Germany has a new chancellor.

Now West Germany does have a president, currently Heinrich Lübke, but he is a figurehead with little political power. The real power rests with the chancellor. And since 1949, there has only been one chancellor, Konrad Adenauer. However, his final term was beset by scandals and so Mr. Adenauer finally resigned at the ripe old age of 87.

I have to admit that I'm not a big fan of Konrad Adenauer. He did a good job rebuilding the country after WWII and his place in history is assured. But after fourteen years, it is time to let someone else have a go. The new chancellor, Ludwig Ehrhard, was secretary of economics in Adenauer's cabinet and is largely responsible for West Germany's so-called economic miracle. Therefore, I don't expect many changes, but maybe a somewhat younger government.

But now let's leave politics behind, because today I want to introduce you to a wonderful fantasy duology by up and coming author Michael Ende. Though marketed as children's books, these are books all ages can enjoy.

A most unusual visitor

 

Michael Ende, who will turn 34 in two weeks, burst onto the scene three years ago with his novel Jim Knopf und Lukas der Lokomotivführer (Jim Knopf and Lukas the Train Engine Driver) followed last year by the sequel Jim Knopf und die Wilde 13 (Jim Knopf and the Wild 13). The first book has just come out in English as Jim Button and Luke the Train Engine Driver. I hope the sequel will follow soon.

The book opens in Lummerland (Morrowland in English), a small island kingdom with two mountains in the middle of the ocean. Lummerland is ruled by King Alfons, the Quarter-to-Twelfth, and has only three inhabitants, Herr Ärmel (Mr. Sleeve), a bowler-hatted gentleman whose profession is being a loyal subject, Frau Waas (Mrs. Whaat) who runs the general store, and Lukas who drives the steam locomotive Emma around Lummerland.

This balance is upset when the mail boat delivers a parcel with a barely legible address and the number 13 as the sender. The inhabitants of Lummerland decide to open the parcel, hoping to find a clue about the recipient inside. Instead, they find a black baby boy. The new arrival, christened Jim Knopf (Jim Button) is quickly accepted. Frau Waas adopts Jim, Herr Ärmel becomes his teacher and Lukas makes him his apprentice, train engine driver being a dream job for many German children.

Lummerland may seem absurd to adult readers, but it recalls the vanished world of pre-WWI Germany with its micro-states, complete with pompous rulers, where every small town had its own post office and train station. Lummerland also seems to owe more than a little to the 1958 painting Die Angst der Berge (The Fear of the Mountains) by Michael Ende's father, surrealist painter Edgar Ende. And indeed, Ende has confirmed that the painting was one of the inspirations for the story.

The fact that Jim Knopf is black may surprise many readers. There have always been black Germans, even during the Third Reich. And after World War II, their number grew as romance blossomed between black American GIs and German women and resulted in mixed race children. About five thousand so-called "occupation babies" were born in West Germany since 1945. They were subject to discrimination, both from the US Army, which discourages fraternisation, and from West German society, where the racism of the Nazi regime still festers. Some mixed race couples married and went to the US. But in many cases, the fathers were sent off to fight in Korea, Vietnam or elsewhere, leaving the mothers alone with their children. Many women were pressured to give their children up for adoption. Some of the children were adopted by black American families, others were sent to Denmark, Sweden and the Netherlands.

The plight of mixed race children has been tackled before, e.g. in the 1952 movie Toxi about an abandoned little girl who is reunited with her American father. Nonetheless, Michael Ende's choice to make Jim Knopf black is remarkable, because his situation mirrors that of many mixed race German children. His biological parents are nowhere in sight; Jim is an orphan found in a box. However, unlike his real life counterparts, Jim is accepted by the people of Lummerland and his race is never an issue. He is one of them from the moment he arrives.

Trouble is brewing in Lummerland, however, because the small island is becoming overcrowded. King Alfons decrees that one of Lummerland's inhabitants has to leave. The unlucky inhabitant chosen is – no, not Jim – but Emma, Lukas' beloved locomotive. With Emma banished, Lukas decides to leave as well. Jim tags along, because he doesn't want to leave either Lukas or Emma. Lukas and Jim set out to sea aboard Emma, who is surprisingly seagoing for a locomotive.

Eventually, Jim, Lukas and Emma reach China, where they befriend Ping Pong, grandson of the Emperor's personal chef. Ping Pong tells Jim and Lukas that the Emperor is grieving because his daughter Princess Li Si has been kidnapped and is held prisoner in the dragon city of Kummerland (Sorrowland). Of course, Jim and Lukas immediately offer to rescue the princess.

But in order to see the Emperor, they first have to brave the labyrinthine Imperial bureaucracy, which is a parody of bureaucracies everywhere. Jim and Lukas also incur the wrath of prime minister Pi Pa Po, who is about to have them executed. Luckily, Ping Pong fetches the Emperor who saves Jim and Lukas, fires the villainous Pi Pa Po and makes Ping Pong prime minister instead.

Ende's China feels as fallen out of time as Lummerland. It's a land of bonzes and emperors, pigtail braids and rijstafeln (actually a Dutch Indonesian dish) that has more in common with Franz Lehar's operetta The Land of Smiles than with Chairman Mao's People's Republic of China. However, while Lummerland feels nostalgic, the orientalist clichés of Ende's China are problematic. A fictional country would have been a better choice.

Jim and Lukas learn that Princess Li Si called for help via a message in a bottle, which includes the address where she is being held prisoner, Old Street 133 in Kummerland. Jim recognises the address, because the same address was written on the parcel which brought him to Lummerland. Maybe rescuing the princess can also shed some light on Jim's origin.

Our heroes travel through fantastic landscapes, brave untold dangers and eventually, reach the Land of the Thousand Volcanoes. Here, they make another friend, half-dragon Nepomuk, who knows the way to Kummerland but cannot travel there himself because only pure-blooded dragons are allowed to enter Kummerland. Nepomuk, however, is half dragon and half hippopotamus. Adult readers will see parallels between the dragons' obsession with racial purity and Nazi race theory. And indeed, the Ende family was at odds with the Nazi regime, which branded the paintings of Michael's father Edgar Ende as degenerate art.

Jim and Lukas enter Kummerland by disguising Emma as a dragon. They locate Old Street 133 and find a school, where several children, including Li Si, are chained to desks, with the dragon Frau Mahlzahn (Mrs. Grindtooth), whose idea of pedagogics is barking orders at her pupils, as their teacher. Author Michael Ende is a supporter of Waldorf education and has said that Frau Mahlzahn's school was inspired by his experiences with the Nazi education system.

Our heroes overpower Frau Mahlzahn and free the children. Li Si explains that the children have been kidnapped by a pirate gang called the Wild 13 and sold to Frau Mahlzahn. The same fate was intended for Jim, only that he was mailed to Lummerland instead.

Jim, Lukas, Emma and Li Si return to China with a reformed Frau Mahlzahn in tow. The Emperor promises Li Si's hand to Jim, though both of them are a little young to get married. Frau Mahlzahn announces that she will hibernate to become a golden dragon of wisdom. Frau Mahlzahn also comes up with a solution to Lummerland's space problems, for she knows the location of a floating island that would make a good extension for Lummerland.

The novel ends with Lukas, Jim. Li Si and Emma returning home, the floating island in tow, which is dubbed Neu-Lummerland. And not a moment too soon, for Lukas reveals that Emma is pregnant. I don't even want to imagine the mechanics of this, but luckily the young target audience is more accepting. Emma gives birth to a baby locomotive named Molly and Jim now has a locomotive of his own.

Jim Knopf's adventures continue!

 

The adventures of Jim, Lukas and their friends continue in Jim Knopf und die Wilde 13 (Jim Knopf and the Wild 13). As the title indicates, the second book focuses on Frau Mahlzahn's partners in crime, the pirate gang known as the Wild 13, who remain unseen in the first book. Though Wild 13 is a misnomer, for there are only twelve pirates, all identical brothers, but they counted the leader twice. What is more, each pirate can only write a single letter of the alphabet, which explains their spelling problems and why their mailings keep ending up at the wrong address.

When the Wild 13 kidnap Molly, Jim, Lukas, Emma and stowaway Li Si go after them. Everybody except Jim is taken prisoner. Jim uses the fact that the pirates aren't particularly bright against them and gets them to accept him as their leader. One thing I like about the Jim Knopf books is that the villains are reformed rather than vanquished. This solution might seem a little too neat for adults, but learning that enemies can become friends is an important lesson for kids.

Jim also learns the truth about his origin. He is Prince Myrrhen of the sunken land of Jamballa who was kidnapped and sold to Frau Mahlzahn, but ended up in Lummerland instead. And because a prince needs a kingdom, Frau Mahlzahn and the Wild 13 help Jim raise Jamballa from the ocean (after sinking it in the first place). Jim takes the throne, marries Li Si and everybody lives happily ever after.

The parallels between Jamballa and Atlantis are obvious. Ende subverts the Nazi take on the Atlantis myth here, according to which Atlantis is the original homeland of the Aryan race. One example is the 1930s Heftroman series Sun Koh – Heir of Atlantis by Paul Alfred Müller a.k.a. Freder van Holk, which has several parallels to Jim Knopf's story. Like Sun Koh, Jim is the prince of a sunken kingdom, which he raises from the ocean. Only that in Ende's version, the original inhabitants of Atlantis – ahem, Jamballa – were not Über-Aryans, but descendants of the Biblical Wise Man Caspar and therefore black.

Michael Ende does his best to create a diverse and inclusive world, where yesterday's enemies can become today's friends and little black boys can become both kings and train engine drivers and marry the princess, too. Li Si is not just a damsel in distress, but a smart and resourceful person in her own right. Future generations may find issues with the books, but for now Michael Ende has created a remarkably progressive fantasy series.
 

A hard but certain sell

 
The reaction to the books was mixed. It took Michael Ende three years to find a publisher. Furthermore, contemporary German literature is focussed on realism and fantasy novels are dismissed as escapism. This is unfair, for the Jim Knopf novels are so much more. The jury of the Deutscher Jugendbuchpreis agreed and named Jim Knopf and Lukas the Train Engine Driver the best children's book of 1960. The popularity of the Jim Knopf books inspired the Augsburger Puppenkiste marionette theatre to adapt them into puppet plays, which were also filmed for television. And children everywhere love the adventures of Jim, Lukas and friends.

Jim's story came to a neat ending in Jim Knopf and the Wild 13, but will adventurers like Jim and Lukas really retire or does Michael Ende have yet more stories up his sleeve? But whether Ende revisits Lummerland or not, he is a great emerging voice of German fantasy and I for one can't wait to see what he will do next.

A lovely story about a boy, his friends and his locomotive. Four and a half stars.




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[October 22, 1963] A Whole New Fantasy (Andre Norton's Witch World)

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by Rosemary Benton

Andre Norton (a common name for me now) released her new book into the wild of the science-fiction section of local book stores earlier this month! Being October and therefore the prime time to read anything horror or fantasy related, I didn't spend much time dithering about adding Witch World to my pile of literature by the bookstore register.

For this adventure, veteran story teller Andre Norton starts by introducing her audience to disgraced U.S. Army Lieutenant Colonel Simon Tregarth as he flees on his last leg from some unsavory business associates. After a chance meeting with a renowned people smuggler, he bargains for passage from our reality to one which he is promised to be “attuned" with. Skeptical, but figuring that his only other option is death at the hands of thugs, he agrees to what is supposedly a one way passage off of Earth. After successfully traveling through the supposed Siege Perilous, he jumps to the aid of a ragged woman pursued by hounds and soldiers. He quickly learns that the person he has saved is a witch (also referred to as one of the Women of Power) of the besieged land of Estcarp. Jump forward a time and Simon has almost seamlessly integrated himself into this strange new world of sword, guns and fickle sorcery.

Over the course of the story he travels over the known world, coming face to face with oddly advanced machinery within what is otherwise a medieval society. Ultimately he learns of forces and enemies which he and the native people within the realms barely grasp. The book wraps up with Simon and his allies winning the day against their mutual enemy, the Koltar. However, in doing so the extent of his adopted world's vulnerability from other realities begins to become clear, and with that realization the story ends with an uneasy sense of dread.

The plot of of Witch World is passable, but unfortunately the enjoyment of the novel is not to be found in any thrilling exploits of its characters. Overall their personalities do not come with anything particularly remarkable, and unfortunately that translates into character arcs that are alright, but not unexpected. The real reason to read Witch World is the vivid plethora of mythos and the fantastical history which shapes Norton's world. It's absolutely brimming with potential that I hope Norton will take advantage of in future stories.

Despite the bizarre whimsy of the cover by Jack Gaughan which prominently features a gun wielding man in a blue leotard with a comical bird beak sticking far out from his forehead, the cultures and environments of Witch World are filled with intense, gritty peoples who have distinct traditions and garb best suited to their rough lives. Spandex is pretty much the opposite of what anyone in Witch World wears. This is a high fantasy world with magic and chain mail, medieval feudalism and tribalism, and primitive, cruel ideas about a man and woman's roles. At the same time, however, there is deliberately juxtaposed science-fiction technology thrown in. Robotic birds, surgically and chemically induced mind control, and guns spring up with little preamble.

The way in which Norton merges a handful of advanced technology with a deeply structured fantasy culture struck me as distinct from other genre bridging stories. Previous sci-fi/fantasy stories I have pored through seem to favor the merger of the two genres almost equally. Some novels seem to use magic merely as another word of misunderstood science. Consider, in John Brunner's Secret Agent of Terra, the isolated people of Planet 14 who are not privy to exactly how an ancient food processor works and consider the domestication of animals to have mystical origins. The visitors from Earth do know how to work the old technology and are well aware of the planet's history of animal husbandry, yet they feed this misconception so as to not disturb the planet's natural evolution from magic believers to scientific pioneers. And therein lies the rub – for every “spell" there is a hidden keep of exposition.

When the subject of magic is approached in any of Norton’s writing there is never any easy solution lying right below the surface. Her flaire for piecing out information and not revealing more than what the characters themselves know keeps the reader on edge, as well as humble. This sense that there are always bigger forces at play, yet are never fully explained, teases the rational mind of the reader and allows for there to be doubt that anything “magical" can be easily quantified by rational, scientific method. It's very disquieting when Norton's established and venerated forces, like the witchcraft of the Women of Power and the Axe of Volt, are threatened by something indefinable that is even older and more powerful – travel across dimensions.

To belabor the point, Norton's book is in desperate need of a new front cover in future editions to better advertise this unease, since it is by far one of the biggest things the reader takes away from the novel. That and, of course, the potential for more stories of branching off of Witch World. The expansiveness of Norton's world is, frankly, astounding. The potential for twists and turns in future stories is greatly aided by the dimension travel that Norton subtly echoes back to again and again.

Andre Norton's Witch World has a spark of something much bigger, and while this first foray into its world was rather standard in terms of the main plot, the visible layers and grandiosity of Witch World just begs to be explored. It's hard to give a book like this a rating. Was it fun to follow the exploits of Simon Tregarth, Koris, Briant, and Jaelithe? A little, but they were not really the most interesting aspect of the novel. Did the story achieve what it set out to do in terms of world building? Absolutely. Did it make me want to read more? If any further Witch World books can make me as riveted to the history of this world as much as this book did, then absolutely. Ultimately I would say this was a three and a half star book. Well worth reading for the intricacy and intrigue of the universe Norton has created, but with characters who were outshined by their surroundings.

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