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[June 30, 1965] Every Day has its Dog (July 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Hail the Sun God

Summer has officially begun.

On June 21, 1965, the northern hemisphere of Earth enjoyed its longest period of daylight (while in Australia, poor fellow traveler, Kaye Dee suffered through the longest night). The Summer Solstice is an event that once had great religious significance, but as the Mosaic religions spread across the globe, celebration of the day waned.

Today, with the rise of neo-druidism (the North American version of it having been related in articles by Erica Frank), the Solstice has once again become a holy day. And 1965's was particularly special: as the Fraternal Order of Druids gathered around Stonehenge, they were treated to the first uncloudy sunrise in 13 years.

With such an auspicious sign, one might expect that June (July cover date) would be a good one for science fiction magazines. Instead, what we got was a dreary muchness that was more akin to the overcast skies of prior Solstices. And no magazine more exemplifies this drabness than this month's Analog:

Noonday Overcast


by John Schoenherr

Trader Team (Part 1 of 2), by Poul Anderson


by John Schoenherr

Poul Anderson is the Cepheid variable of the science fiction genre: he pulses from brilliance to dullness with regularity. In the midpoints, he produces competent but longwinded stuff like the Van Rijn tales, which detail the exploits of a canny Terran trader trying to enhance his fortune in the Galactic "Polesotechnic League."

Trader Team features David Falkayn, a young cadet we last saw in the mediocre Three-Cornerned Wheel. Thanks to the ingenuity he displayed in that story, Falkayn has been tapped to be Van Rijn's apprentice, his first mission to open up trade on the backward planet of Ikrananka.

The story starts crackingly, introducing the four members of the crew of the Muddlin' Through: Falkayn, the young Captain; Chee, a furry, imprecation-throwing female from planet Cynthia; Adzel, the gentle saurian neo-Buddhist from Woden; and "Muddlehead", the ship's computer. The ship has been in virtual quarantine for several weeks as no representative of the planet's local feudal state will approach them.

Then, in the midst of an intense poker game, Falkayn espies a beautiful woman soldier fleeing from a troop of Ikranankan cavalry. He saves her and brings her aboard ship only to discover that he has given aid to a fugitive of the very polity he is trying to establish relations with!

So far so good, but the next thirty pages are a drag. There's some nice scientific worldbuilding, in which we learn Ikrananka is a one-face planet, that Stepha (the saved soldier) is one of the third generation of spacewrecked humans who now, as a race, hire themselves out as mercenaries, and that Ikrananka would make a nice planet for trade if only its disparate fiefdoms could be unified.

But the story itself meanders in that wordy, shaggy dog style that Poul defaults to when he's on autopilot. The scene in which Adzel gets roaringly drunk and then implicated in a human insurrection is played for laughs, but it's just tedious. When Chee is captured, too, the reaction it elicits is a yawn rather than concern.

And if I have to read another line about what Falkayn thinks of Stepha's physical form, I'll throw the book against the wall. It'd also be nice to see more non-romantic female characters in general (though I will concede that Chee being female is a step in the right direction).

A low three stars.

In the Light of Further Data, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

Data is an Anvil story in a Campbell-edited mag, so caveat emptor.

And your caution is justified. Data is a story in newspaper article excerpts of two intersecting threads. The first is the development of a miracle tissue regrowth process that quickly recruits millions of patients seeking replacements for lost teeth. The second is the battle between a professor who asserts that science is the foundation of truth, and the religious community who pushes back on the assertion.

In the end, said professor cheerfully gets a new mouth of choppers, just as it's determined that there is a fatal flaw in the regrowth technique. The punchline is he quits science and becomes a missionary.

The moral, I assume, is that those eggheads don't know everything. It's certainly a philosophy Campbell has flogged to death.

Anyway, it's a dumb story. Two stars.

Hands Full of Space, by Stephen A. Kallis, Jr.

We get a respite of sorts in the nonfiction article. It's about the difficulties of engineering for the intense harshness of space. Kallis tells us what happens to electronic components when exposed to zero pressure — they weld to each other, their surfaces vaporize and then coat other surfaces — and then there's the wear of hellish radiation and the danger from whizzing micrometeoroids.

It's all very informative and accessible, if a bit long and occasionally disjointed. When Analog's science piece is better than Ley's in Galaxy and Asimov's in F&SF, you know the world is truly inconstant!

Four stars.

Soupstone, by Gordon R. Dickson


by John Schoenherr

Here's another ingenue spaceman saves the day story. Soupstone is the sequel to Sleight of Wit, in which a clever human defeats an alien adversary largely by virtue of said alien being implausibly dim.

This time, Major Hank Shallo is sent to Crown World as a special trouble-shooter. The problem he must solve involves a crop of alien oversized grapes that would produce a most exquisite brandy in tremendous quantities if only they could keep them from rotting in the warehouses. It's all a matter of timing in the picking process, you see.

Shallo, an inept buffoon, is unable to solve the problem himself, but he is able to gather all the folks together who can solve the problem, and in doing so, sets them on their way to effecting the solution. And if you know the fable about making soup from a stone (I did) then you get the reference. And if you don't, don't worry — Dickson explains it for you.

Dickson is capable of much better than these "funny" stories, and once again, the ladies are included just for leering.

Two stars.

The Adventure of the Extraterrestrial, by Mack Reynolds


by John Schoenherr

It is rare that the science fiction and mystery genres overlap. Asimov's R. Daneel Olivaw tales and Garrett's Lord Darcy series pretty much round out the list. In Adventure, Reynolds crosses SF with The Detective, the one and only supersleuth of Baker Street (though neither Holmes nor Watson are ever mentioned by name).

An octogenarian Holmes is engaged by the spendthrift son of a rich gentleman. The son is putatively concerned for his father's mental health as he has engaged in a Fortean obsession with aliens, which have taken up residence in London, he maintains.

Reynolds is a good writer, and he executes a fair homage to the Doyle style. But while I enjoyed the story, I found Watson's constant and repetitive harping on Holmes to be offputting. And there are only so many times I need to be reminded of Holmes' age through note of his "senility," "chortling," "blathering," "dribbling," "inanity," etc. etc. Virtually every line includes a reference, and it's overmuch.

Also, and this is a small thing, Holmes' client talks of his father's obsession with "flying saucers." The story is indisputably set in the mid-to-late 1930s. Flying saucers did not become idiomatic vogue until after the war, in astonishing concert with the arrival of jet planes and rocketships. The anachronism vexed.

Still, it's the best story of the issue. A high three stars.

Though a Sparrow Fall, by Scott Nichols

One of those conversation pieces in which the story progresses in party dialogue. Turns out that the human genetic code has been written, or at least tampered with, such that a message has been buried within. By whom, and for whom, it is not known.

There's an interesting germ of a story here, almost something Theodore L. Thomas might address in his little column in F&SF. It doesn't really go anywhere, though.

Three stars.

Delivered with Feeling, by Lawrence A. Perkins


by Kelly Freas

At last, Mr. Perkins offers up another "lone man solves the problems of an alien world" story. This one deals with a planet whose disunion into dozens of profession-castes has made it easy prey for alien raiders. Because the invading planet and Earth are party to a mutual non-aggression pact, our protagonist can provide no material aid. Instead, he simply gives them a rallying slogan, which because of the unique qualities of the subjugated race, proves sufficient to throw off the alien onslaught.

The kicker, of course, is how the protagonist hatched his scheme. It's one of those technical puzzle stories that has been the stale bread and butter of the genre for decades. It's readable and forgettable.

Three stars.

A Dim Augury

Just one magazine cracked the three-star barrier this month: Fantasy and Science Fiction with 3.2 stars. IF and Science Fantasy were inoffensive three-star issues whilst (as Mark and Kris might say) New Worlds stumbled in at just 2.7. As this month's Analog scored a 2.8, it barely misses out on being the worst of the bunch.

And what a meager bunch it is! Without Galaxy and Worlds of Tomorrow (they're bimonthlies) and since the former Goldsmith mags, Amazing and Fantastic were on hiatus this month, there really wasn't much to read. Worse yet, there was just one woman-penned piece out of the 27 fiction stories published this month.

That the magazines were all fairly unremarkable, save perhaps for the unusually decent F&SF, just goes to show that even when the Sun God makes an appearance, it doesn't always herald good fortune.

Ah well. The Sun sets, but it also rises, and each day brings promise anew…


Sunrise, Roy Lichtenstein's latest masterpiece — see, this month wasn't all bad…




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[June 24, 1965] Wasps, Warriors and Aldiss (Science Fantasy and New Worlds, July 1965)

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

Do you remember in my article last month when I summed up by saying that Science Fantasy was all new writers of limited readability and New Worlds relied on its cohort of now fairly well-established writers?

Well, the Editors were clearly listening to me (as if!), as this month they've swapped positions. We have some major changes this month in both magazines.

Let’s start with the issue that arrived first in the post this month: the July issue of Science Fantasy.

Well, it is Summer here and the latest cover by the prolific Keith Roberts reflects that.

I must admit that (for a change) I actually like the painting of this cover, although the subject matter is one I personally dislike – I hate wasps. But it does what the cover is meant to do, which is make you interested in the issue. It also refers to Mr. Roberts’s new novel, the first part of which fills this issue. More later.

Onto the editorial, which continues the discussion Kyril started last issue – which was “The job of a critic consists of knowing when he is being bored, and why", or rather that of the importance of readability when discussing or – heaven forbid! – criticising prose. In this issue we get more to the point, when Kyril suggests for the SF community “our sort of fiction has its roots firmly in the pulp magazines and since these survive by the casual, non-enthusiast readers and not by the relatively few ‘fans’, readability must be a major consideration.” I think he has a point, although the New Worlds way, currently under the guidance of Mike Moorcock seems to want to change that by producing more challenging and less linear prose than that. Some might say less readable.

He then goes on to say that science fiction is shackled by its own conventions in as much of a way as the detective novel is. He finishes with a gloomy prophecy, that “…when I look at the future through the bottom of my ale-glass I can see about as much hope for the future of science fiction as we have known it as there is for the detective-novel unless this insistence on novelty relaxes. It cannot hope to be accepted as part of the mainstream whilst bound by the conventions more rigid than the ones it claims to be destroying.”

So: we must change, or die, move on from the past to form a new future. Yet remain readable. There’s a rallying manifesto for the New Wave if ever I saw one. It’s been said before by both Kyril and Moorcock but this lays itself out clearly, presumably for those new readers.

To the stories themselves.

The Furies (Part 1 of 3), by Keith Roberts

You might have noticed my comments about Roberts in the past few months, whether under his own name or a pseudonym (I’ll come back to this later.) As I’m being favourable it must be said that we’ve seen a variety of stories in terms of style – post-apocalyptic ones, scary ones, humorous ones, and ones of Fantasy, such as the Anita stories, as well as science fiction, all of varying quality and success.

This, however, is Mr. Roberts’ first novel, in the first of three parts. There’s clearly some confidence being shown here, as it takes up nearly 100 pages of the 130-page magazine. As the cover shows us, it is a story of wasps. It begins relatively innocently. Bill Sampson, a cartoonist, has bought a building in the rural village of Brockledean, Wiltshire. He’s very happy working, visiting the local pub and generally getting on with life with his Great Dane Sek.

One day his teenage neighbour Jane Beddoes-Smythe (how British is that name?) wanders in to say “Hello”. They build a platonic relationship whilst Jane is staying in the area for the Summer holidays. During this time there are reports of attacks by wasps, which seem a little far-fetched but really of no consequence. More urgent is the global testing of nuclear weapons currently going on under the seabed.

When our heroes are attacked by a swarm of the afore-mentioned wasps, they soon find that the insects in this case are different to the normal. These are three feet in size, can fly through brick walls and windows, have a sting that can punch through steel plate and mandibles strong enough to decapitate a person. (There are some gruesome descriptions in this story to make that point.)

And if that wasn’t enough, whilst being attacked by the wasps there are earthquakes. The nuclear tests have caused them, destroying Bill’s house. When they eventually escape, they find very few survivors – it seems that whole villages have been destroyed by either the earthquakes or the wasps. Bill and Jane meet an armoured patrol car commanded by Lieutenant Neil Connor, and with Sergeant Ted Willis, the group make a run for the coast. Much of the rest of this part of the story is about their journey towards Weymouth and the challenges they face.

Even if I didn't hate wasps, this story is quite chilling. Whilst my initial impression was that it was going to be in the style of a British Horror B-movie, the story is subtler than that. Roberts sets up a British rural idyll – Sampson living a contented life in the British countryside in a converted public house – and then turns it into something horrendous. Though the added complication of earthquakes happening at the same time as the wasps appearing may be a little too far-fetched, the story is quite shocking in its depiction of the havoc caused by the wasps. Are the wasps a result of the nuclear tests, or are they just taking advantage? It’s not clear (yet.) They are fierce and clever, which leads to some discussion of insect intelligence, which may be as strange as any alien intelligence we ever encounter.

Perhaps the story’s strength is how it visualises the British rural landscape. Roberts has always used descriptions of nature in his work and the Wiltshire setting is nicely done, which makes the impact of this unusual threat all the more jarring. This is a story of 'normal' people trying to survive against adversity.

Despite the appearance of a Granny Thompson-like old lady, in the form of Mrs Sitwell, this is by far Keith Roberts' best work to date. And a great cliffhanger ending. 4 out of 5.

A Distorting Mirror, by R. W. Mackelworth

The second story in two months by Mackelworth, after his story Last Man Home in New Worlds last month. A Distorting Mirror is a story of drug-induced murder in order to climb the occupational career ladder, or at least gain access to housing. The mega-Corporation uses the drugs to determine an employee’s desires, which allows lots of weird-looking goings on and in this case causes the main character to murder his wife when he realises that a) she is competition, and b) he cannot give her what she most desires. All a bit far-fetched for me. 2 out of 5.

The Door, by Alastair Bevan

This one’s a little sneaky, as if you’ve been following closely over the past few months you may have noticed me saying that “Alastair Bevan” is actually…. Keith Roberts!

The ‘Door’ of the title is that which connects the underground Orange City with the world outside. Naylor is attempting to break through it, as it hasn’t been opened for years. A one-point, twist-in-the-tale story about what Naylor discovers once he has broken through. This is a weaker Roberts effort, which makes me think of what an inferior version of The Twilight Zone would be like.
2 out of 5.

The Criminal, by Johnny Byrne

And lastly, a very short story from Mr. Byrne. His return (Johnny was last seen with the very odd Harvest in the January/February 1965 issue) will be greeted with enthusiasm by some readers, although not usually by me, as I find his stories generally too strange for my personal tastes.

However, this very short story is more accessible. A naked man is unceremoniously dumped by a spaceship outside a supermarket. The man explains that this is a punishment because he has been found guilty of a crime. The inevitable twist in the story is who the man says has appeared on Earth as a punishment before him. This short-short story makes its point, then leaves, quickly.  3 out of 5.

Summing up Science Fantasy

And that’s it from Science Fantasy this month – a mere four stories, a bit of a shock after the seven of last month. And two of those are by the same author. But The Furies is shockingly good and may even deserve the generous space given to it this issue.

Let’s go to my second magazine.

The Second Issue At Hand

Look! No squares, blur or abstract shapes! This month’s cover, by artist unknown, has a picture you can actually recognise, and it is connected to one of the stories! It still looks pretty basic, admittedly, (compare it with those US covers you get!) but it shows some idea of y'know, relevance. That can only be a good thing, can’t it?

Having tackled the idea of “What is Science Fiction?” last month, Mike Moorcock continues his rhetoric with a debate about whether SF should be about “Space stories” anymore. It has come up in the Letters pages before. Under the title Does Space Still Come Naturally?, Moorcock uses the editorial pages to say that it has but should also make way for the ‘new’ Science Fiction, that of inner space and changing states. He sums it up thus: “Unless a magazine is to become nothing more than a collection of popular engineering articles thinly described as fiction – as has happened to at least one magazine in recent years – then it must look around for something fresh, must encourage something fresh.” I wonder which magazine he is describing? Hmm.

I’m not a gambling person, but after his comments last month, I’m thinking it must be John W. Campbell’s Analog myself. You can, of course, suggest your own.

Both New Worlds and Science Fantasy seem to be putting forward a united front on this idea of the need for fresh new ideas this month. Clearly both Editors feel the eyes of other Editors on them at the moment, and this is them setting out their respective stalls.

Moorcock takes this one step further:


A Moorcock rallying call – I'm not sure I agree with the bold statement he's making, but it is impressive.

Remember last month when I said that New Worlds seems to be relying on using its well-established repertoire of writers?

Moorcock ends with a not-so-subtle musing: should the magazine expand its size? This is followed by the point that to do so, it would have to raise its price from 2s. 6d to 3s 6d. I await the response in the Letters pages.

To the stories!

Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Lone Zone, by Charles Platt

After Mr Platt’s amusingly grumpy review of Brian Aldiss’s Earthworks last issue, we now have fiction of his own. It’s a story of inertia and decay that verges on the Ballardian. In the future we have had huge Linear Cities built, but not the population to fill them. Large areas of the cities are now Lone Zones, where abandoned people are left to fend for themselves.

The depressing drabness and sense of decay throughout makes it all feel like a city in a Communist state to me, but the Loners scavenging the buildings for food and everything they need seem like young rebellious types. At the other social extreme, we have Civics, living in an ordered world where everything they do is provided for, organised and programmed.

This story is about what happens when Johnson, a Civic, appears in the Lone Zone of Linear City 7, wanting to live like the Loners and learn about how they live. It’s not an easy choice – the last Civic that did that was hanged in a matter of days. Johnson meets Vincent, the leader of a group of Loners, and tries to tag along with the group.

This is treated with some degree of wariness on the group's part, because other Loners may see them as ‘Civic-Lovers’ and mark them as a target for attack. However, most of the story is about what Johnson discovers about how the Loners live and the deserted decrepit city where they live. It doesn’t end well.

It’s not a bad story, that basically compares the generational differences between the lives of young and old. You could see it as a metaphor story of future free-wheeling hippies versus the staid establishment, if you like. But it is all a bit depressing, and the ending reflects that. 3 out of 5

The Leveller, by Langdon Jones


Illustration by Gilmore

And now it is the Assistant Editor’s turn, with another tale of Inner Space. A man wakes up in a hospital room, aware of his surroundings but is unable to communicate with the world around him. Looking around him, he seems to have left his dying physical body. Whilst watching he finds himself talking to a range of odd creatures – a toad, then a swordsman and then to an ex-lover – in some kind of delusional psychedelic experience just before the body seems to die. The twist in the tale is as predictable as it could be. Again, not bad but nothing particularly revelatory. 2 out of 5.

The Silent Ship, by E. C. Williams

This one has a touch of Quatermass about it. A spaceship returning from Ceres crashes on Earth after no contact is able to be made with the pilot, Grasp. A representative of the firm he is working for is sent to investigate. The pilot is alive but babbling and is taken to hospital. When the ship is studied there is nothing else onboard but some silica rocks.

Tests at the hospital show that Grasp is dying and has no white corpuscles left in his body. The last half of the story shows us what has happened to Grasp. Out on Ceres he has found microscopic life in the rocks. After observing them, Godlike for a while, the ‘fleas’ (as he calls them) invade his body. Grasp is driven by the fleas to return to Earth, where the infection dies upon exposure to Earth’s microbes and kills Grasp. Good old H G Wells!

It’s OK, though I thought the idea of micro-civilizations had gone out with Superman’s Kandor. 3 out of 5.

A Funny Thing Happened, by Dikk Richardson

Oh no. Just the title… this is going to be one of those stories that tries to be funny, isn’t it? A one-page shaggy dog story that involves the Easter Island statues. Awful. 1 out of 5.

A Light in the Sky, by Richard A. Gordon

A debut story which, like a few others recently, channels Edgar Rice Burroughs or Robert E. Howard with Arabian panache before revealing something more science-fictional. It’s OK but I saw the end coming a long time before I read it. 3 out of 5.

Supercity, by Brian W. Aldiss

Ah, now that’s more like it! Good old dependable Brian. (Have I said in the last few minutes that he will be Guest of Honour at next month’s Worldcon in London? No? I am slacking!) Ah – hang on. This is a reprint, a story that was first published in 1957. The third word in the story gave it away to me, being part of the title of an early Aldiss story collection. Just to put that in perspective, 1957 was the year of the first Sputnik. (Yes, that long ago!)

This is an Aldiss story that playfully satirizes societies and plays with language. This even happens with the title, because Brian is at pains from the start to point out that Supercity is not what most readers would expect from the word – a story of Trantorian urbanisation (super-city) – but is instead su-per-city – “the art of becoming indispensable through being thoroughly useless”. It is a story of bureaucracy and how ineptitude can sometimes get you to the top of the pile. Its wryly amusing, fast paced and quite irreverent – just what you need in a Worldcon Guest of Honour!

As good as Supercity is, the issue for me here is that this is not a new story. I suspect the main reason Supercity is here is to remind us what a top-class author Brian is. (Have I said in the last few minutes that he will be Guest of Honour at next month’s Worldcon in London? Really?)

Gloriously ridiculous and yet somehow, for all of its silliness, it has a ring of truth about it. Worth a reprint. 4 out of 5.

The Night of the Gyul, by Colin R Fry

A post-apocalyptic story where some sort of devolved human meets a Boi and a Gyul who wish to travel in a Bote to Frahnts, where lies Paradise.

One of those stories that talks a lot and plays with language in a way that Moorcock seems to love, but actually doesn’t have a lot to say. Once you’ve got your head around what the characters are talking about, there’s not a lot of importance there. I lost interest quite quickly. 2 out of 5.

Book Reviews, Articles and Letters

This month there is one film review and a good few Book Reviews. There is no sign of a Science Article, though – perhaps they have died a death…

For films, Al Good examines Roger Corman’s latest take on "Edgar Allen Poe" (as it says on the back cover), The Tomb of Ligeia before looking at Corman’s work in general. Although The Tomb of Ligeia is not Corman’s best, the Corman versions of Poe’s work are better movies than our British Hammer Horror movies because they stay close to the spirit of Edgar’s writing.

George Collyn comments on Brian Aldiss’s Greybeard (not the best Aldiss has ever written), JG Ballard’s The Terminal Beach (an author in danger of disappearing into himself) and Journey Beyond Tomorrow by Robert Sheckley, which he is much more positive about.

After praising the work of Cordwainer Smith and Kurt Vonnegut, in Collyn’s opinion, Sheckley is seriously underrated, and his work, as well as that of Smith and Vonnegut, reflects the difference in reading material between UK and US readers at the moment. Like Aldiss and Ballard, they are writers prepared to push the boundaries of what we see as science fiction, unlike the majority published in American magazines. Sheckley’s Journey Beyond Tomorrow is “the most important unnoticed event of 1964 as far as SF is concerned.”

James Colvin (aka Mike Moorcock) hands in a more detailed review of The Best SF Stories of James Blish. Taking each story in turn, he eventually puts forward the idea that Blish as an author may be overrated and that other writers such as Cyril Kornbluth and John Brunner deserve to be published as frequently as Blish.

Speaking of Kornbluth and Brunner, Langdon Jones praises their stories in his review of Spectrum IV, edited by Kingsley Amis and Robert Conquest. The collection is dissected in some detail as a “good buy” collection, whilst Poul Anderson’s Trader to the Stars is dismissed as a Wild West story set in Space and Robert A Heinlein’s Tunnel in the Sky is a juvenile masquerading as an adult novel, and as such is “readable if slight.”

The Letters pages continue to debate the ongoing issue of what is science fiction, and therefore what should or shouldn’t be included in New Worlds. Suggestions this month include dropping the 'SF' on the cover, and sticking to traditional idioms is too limiting. The debate continues.

In terms of Ratings, no great surprises for the Star issue from April, other than it is a reprint that gets top billing. Ballard is lower than I expected, but then I thought myself that this was a lesser work. Bearing in mind what George Collyn has said about JG in his reviews this month, does this suggest that the Ballard bubble has burst?

Summing up New Worlds

Another ‘up and down’ issue, with some good and others not so. Moorcock should be praised to trying to nurture new talent, but the results are variable. I enjoyed most the Aldiss reprint, but the issue also gained my lowest rating so far for a story. It’s a good effort but a C+ overall.

Summing up

This month’s issues are difficult to compare as they are so deliberately different. New Worlds has gone for new talent and a range of stories of variable content, whilst Science Fantasy has gambled on one big story dominating the issue, with lesser efforts from Science Fantasy regulars. In the end, the dominance of The Furies means that this month’s best issue for me is Science Fantasy. It’s not perfect, but I think I’ll remember that story for a long time.

And that’s it for this time. Until the next…


Here's those Beatles chaps, celebrating the arrival of Summer with squinting eyes



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Magazine

[June 18, 1965] Galactic Doppleganger (July 1965 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Those of you who have been following the Journey over the past several years know that my appraisal of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has changed a few times.  Back in the days when Anthony Boucher and then Robert Mills were editing F&SF, it was my favorite magazine, a dessert I saved for reviewing last.

Then Avram Davidson took over in 1962, and while there were still standout issues, Davidson's whimsical, somewhat obtuse preferences led to a pretty rough couple of years.  Recently, Joe Ferman, son of the owner of the magazine, took over, and quality has been on a slow but perceptible rise.

One thing about F&SF is that it has always been unique amongst its SFF magazine brethren (which once numbered 40 and now less than ten).  It was the literary sibling, the most highfalutin.  Composed largely of vignettes and short stories, it contrasted sharply with the crunchier digests like Analog.

Which is why the current July 1965 issue is so unusual.  It's not bad; indeed, it's pretty good.  But it reads much like an issue of Galaxy or IF, one of the more mainstream mags.  I'm not disappointed.  It's just odd is all.  Read on and see what I mean.


by Jack Gaughan (he likes dragons — he did the illos for Vance's The Dragon Masters too!

Rogue Dragon, by Avram Davidson

Last year, Davidson left editing to go back to writing full time, and Rogue Dragon is his first major work since his departure from the helm of F&SF.  From the title, I expected a fantasy piece, or perhaps the dragon would even turn out to be metaphorical.  Both suppositions were wrong: Rogue Dragon is pure science fiction set on a far future Earth, one that had been conquered and then abandoned by the merciless insectoid Kar-chee.

Now simply called Prime World, humanity's original home has devolved to a handful of city-states. The planet's economy is based on Hunts, wherein the dragons introduced by the Kar-chee are slain by off-world big game hunters.  These dragons are nigh invulnerable things, their chest armor only pierceable in a weak spot identified with a painted white cross.

Enter Jan-Joras, the Private Man (representative) of the great off-world leader, Por Paulo.  Sent to arrange a vacation for the elected king he serves, Jan-Joras quickly gets caught up in a political struggle between the aristocratic Gentlemen class, who raise the dragons, the base-born (known pejoratively as dogcatchers and potato-growers), and the outlaws, who have hatched a scheme that will strike at the very foundation of the Hunt system.

But Rogue Dragon is no political thriller.  Rather, after a slightly difficult to read opening act (Davidson introduces many concepts and an abundance of idiomatic language in a short space), Rogue Dragon is an adventure story filled with derring-do, great escapes, and much traveling across increasingly hot frying pans — and we all know what destination lies at the end of that trail.

I found that I liked the story quite a bit, although it is perhaps less substantial than it might have been.  I waver between giving it three stars (perfectly adequate entertainment) and four stars (there's creative worldbuilding here).

Generosity wins.  Four stars it is, and welcome back to where you belong, Avram.

Computer Diagnosis, by Theodore L. Thomas

For his latest science fact vignette, Thomas discusses computer-assisted medical diagnosis — feed the data in, get a determination of malady and a life expectancy out.  Expanded, this could have made a nice article.  As is…

Three stars for being harmless.

The Expendables, by Miriam Allen deFord

In this odd bird of a story, the first astronauts sent to Mars are senior citizens.  The logic is that the mission is so hazardous, with so remote a chance of returning, that it is kinder to send folks with fewer years remaining in their lives.

It doesn't make a great deal of sense, and the story is hampered by some clunky "as you know" dialogue.  On the other hand, I thought the characters were pretty well drawn, and I appreciated the non-standard protagonists (two men, two women, all over 68).

Three stars.

The Eight Billion, by Richard Wilson

Many have made the dire prediction that Earth is heading toward massive overpopulation.  Indeed, the tremendous-sounding number, "Eight Billion", may well be reached by the end of the century.  Now imagine that crowding was such that eight thousand thousand thousands were crammed just into the island of Manhattan!

Wilson's story is mostly humorous fluff supporting a twist ending, but I enjoyed it.

Three stars.

Becalmed in Hell, by Larry Niven

Niven continues to impress with his fourth tale, sequel to The Coldest Place, which appeared in IF.  In his hard as nails variation on McCaffrey's The Ship who Sang, Howie and Eric-the-cyborg-ship explore the boiling planet of Venus.  There, floating twenty miles above the molten surface, Eric develops a fault and is unable to blast back into orbit.  Is the problem mechanical or psychosomatic?

This is the first story set on post-Mariner 2 Venus, and what a delight it is to see what is probably a much more accurate representation of the Planet of Love.  I do balk at the notion that it would be pitch black under Venus' clouds — it's not under an equivalent pressure of ocean, after all.  On the other hand, perhaps they were exploring the night side.

In any event, it's a neat story (albeit one I might have expected to find in Analog).  Four stars.

Exclamation Point!, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor continues his streak of turning his frivolous meanderings through mathematics into readable but not particularly momentous articles.  In this latest, he expounds on the "Asimov series", a cute way he has developed to approximate the value of the special constant, e.

An enjoyable ride, I suppose.  Three stars.

A Murkle For Jesse, by Gary Jennings

Gary Jennings last appeared in print in this very magazine, some three years ago, with the story Myrrha.  It was nominated for the Hugo, though I didn't think it merited such acclaim.

In any event, I think I liked Murkle better.  It stars an eight-year-old boy, a section of the rural Northeast, a little lost girl, and a 400-year old Irish fairy who is most certainly not lost.

If Clifford Simak and R.A. Lafferty were put in a blender, this piece might pour out.  Three stars.

The Pterodactyl, by Philip José Farmer

The book concludes with a short poem about the wing-fingered flying reptiles of the Mesozoic.  A difficult read, it also seems to suggest that pterodactyls were the evolutionary precursors of birds.

The weakest piece of the issue; two stars.

Wrapping up

And there you have it: a pleasant, above-average issue, but with stories that seem slightly odd fits for F&SF.  I'm not really complaining, though. 

Unless, of course, it means the other mags suffer…

[Don't miss the next episode of The Journey Show, featuring singer-songwriter Harry Seldon.  He'll be playing a mix of Dylan, Simon, and some unique original compositions!]




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Magazine, Serial

[June 2, 1965] Heck in a Handbasket (July 1965 IF)

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You don't want to miss this week's episode of The Journey Show, with a panel of professional space historians while Gemini 4 orbits overhead! Register now!


by David Levinson

May has been a chaotic month. War – and not just in the places you might be aware of – unrest, political ups and downs. I’ve frequently found myself thinking of the opening stanza of W. B. Yeats’s marvelous The Second Coming. Hopefully, no rough beasts are slouching anywhere.

Signs of War

The month got off to a bad start in the wee hours of the first when Communist and Nationalist Chinese naval forces clashed off the coast of Tungyin Island. The next day, President Johnson went on television to explain the American invasion of the Dominican Republic. There, at least, American troops have since begun to be replaced by OAS forces.

Less well-known to American readers, though perhaps known to our British audience and certainly to those in Australia, is the ongoing conflict on the island of Borneo. For the last couple of years as part of granting former colonies their independence, the United Kingdom has been working to establish the nation of Malaysia on the Malay Peninsula and nearby islands which have been under British control. Some of those areas are in northern Borneo, and President Sukarno of Indonesia would prefer that all of Borneo, at the very least, go to his country. There have been several skirmishes between British and Malaysian forces on the one side and the Indonesian army on the other. Australian forces have borne the brunt of much of the fighting. Just last week, units of the 3rd Battalion of the Royal Australian Regiment crossed into Indonesian territory and clashed with Indonesian troops along the Sungei Koemba river. This looks to be the first move in a larger effort, and we can expect further fighting through the summer.


Private Neville Ferguson of the 3RAR patrols near the Sarawak-Kalimantan border

Signs of Unrest

On May 5th, several hundred people carried a black coffin to the draft board in Berkeley, California in a protest march against U.S. involvement in the Dominican Republic. Once there, 40 young men, mostly students at the university, burned their draft cards. On May 22nd, another protest march descended on the Berkeley draft board. This time, 19 men burned their draft cards, and LBJ was hanged in effigy. This second march was likely protesting American involvement in Viet Nam.

Another form of protest has been sweeping American university campuses: the teach-in. Back in March, some 50 professors at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor planned a one day strike to protest the war in Viet Nam. Facing opposition from Governor George Romney and the legislature, they turned it into an all-night event featuring debates, lectures, films and music. It was dubbed a “teach-in,” the name being modeled on the sit-ins of the civil rights movement.

Several more of these events have taken place on college campuses around the country since then. A teach-in at the University of California at Berkeley on May 21st-22nd drew a crowd estimated at 30,000 people. (Honestly, if they’re not careful, that town’s going to get a reputation.) Speakers included Dr. Benjamin Spock, Norman Mailer, comedian Dick Gregory, several members of the California Assembly, journalist I. F. Stone, Mario Saavio of the Free Speech Movement (as you might expect), and many others. Expect to see more of these when people go back to university in the fall.


Folk singer Phil Ochs performs at the Berkeley teach-in

Signs of Peace?

Paraphrasing Winston Churchill, Harold Macmillan once said, “Jaw, jaw is better than war, war.” As ineffective as the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne might be, even Retief would probably agree with the sentiment. There has been good and bad news on the diplomatic front in the last month. West Germany formally established diplomatic relations with Israel on May 12th. Of course, Saudi Arabia, Syria, and Iraq promptly broke off relations with West Germany in retaliation. Cambodia also broke off diplomatic relations with the United States on May 3rd. Detractors say it was because Newsweek ran an article accusing Prince Sihanouk’s mother of engaging in various money-making schemes. It probably had more to do with American bombing raids on North Vietnamese supply lines running through Cambodian territory. Hmmm, I guess that’s mostly bad news.

Signs of Improvement

And in the realm of science fiction, particularly my little corner of the Journey, I have good news: while the quality of IF had shown a noticeable decline of late, there’s quite an uptick with this month's issue.


Abe Lincoln goes spearfishing in “The Last Earthman”. Art by McKenna

Research Alpha, by A. E. van Vogt and James H. Schmitz

Barbara Ellington is a typist at Research Alpha, a private research and development firm. She works directly for the number two man at the company, John Hammond, as an assistant to his secretary Helen Wendell. While she is getting some water from a drinking fountain, Dr. Henry Gloge, head of the biology division, secretly injects her with his current project, the Omega serum. Gloge also injects her boyfriend, Vince Strather, a hot-headed young man who is pressuring her towards “premarital intimacy”.

Through a meeting between Hammond and Gloge, we learn that the Omega Point Stimulation project is intended to push an organism through a million years of evolution over a course of four injections. Thus far, none of the test subjects – all giant salamanders known as hellbenders – has survived the third injection, and very few have survived even the second. Gloge is convinced that he would have more success with higher order animals. That is the reason he has abandoned proper research protocols and injected Barbara and Vince, both of whom he is ready to kill if either of them reacts badly.

Barbara responds well, while Vince does not. Hammond and Wendell begin to notice strange readings on a scale the reader is not privy to. There is clearly more to these two than meets the eye, and they appear to have connections around the world. Meanwhile, Barbara figures out what’s going on and begins to take control of her fate.


Does anyone else expect to see James Bond walk into that circle, turn and shoot? Art by Gaughan

The blurb on the cover claims this story is written by “[t]wo of science fiction’s greatest writers”. That’s overstating the case to the point of outright falsehood. Van Vogt is a fairly polarizing writer. Some writers (Phil Dick and Harlan Ellison come to mind) and a segment of the fan community love his work, others hate it. Damon Knight, for example, absolutely savaged him back in 1945 in a review of The World of Null-A. His plots are flimsy and his characters paper thin. On top of that, he spent the better part of a decade selling Dianetics to gullible Angelenos, rather than writing. He kept his name in front of the fans through reprints and fix-ups and has only recently started writing again. Schmitz, on the other hand, is a sound writer who does very good characters and isn’t afraid to put women front and center. But somehow he doesn’t seem to stay on anyone’s radar between stories.

So, I came to this rather long piece with a great deal of trepidation. But I liked it a lot. At a guess, I’d say the basic plot is van Vogt’s and most of the writing is Schmitz’s. Sure, evolution absolutely doesn’t work that way, but this sort of thing has been a part of science fiction since at least Edmond Hamilton’s “The Man Who Evolved,” and we saw it not too long ago on The Outer Limits. Barbara could easily have been a victim who eventually drops the unworthy Vince for the handsome and charismatic John Hammond, the man who actually solves the problem. But she isn’t and she doesn’t. She takes charge, out-thinks the superman and wraps things up the way she wants. I wavered between giving this a high 3 or a low 4. After thinking about it, I decided that Barbara’s characterization is enough to put the story over the top. Four stars.

The Last Earthman, by Lester del Rey

A thousand years after the discovery of faster-than-light travel, the Earth is relegated to a myth, its name largely forgotten. That is because, soon after the human Diaspora into the galaxy, a war was fought on Earth that devastated the environment, leaving behind a few tens of thousands of survivors, whose fertility has gradually decayed.

Twenty years before the start of the story, Egon from the planet Dale crashed on Earth, finding a mere handful of survivors, though the planet itself is again bountiful. While traveling with them to the Ember Stake for one of their rituals, he fixed an ancient mechanism and awoke Herndon, a man who had been placed in suspended animation during the war. He was supposed to have awakened after a time to help put civilization back together, but something went wrong. Now, Egon, Herndon, and Cala, a sterile young woman, are the only ones left. They are returning to the Ember Stake so that Herndon can be placed back in suspended animation when he dies. As they approach, a ship appears in the sky.

This is a melancholy piece, but one tinged with hope. It’s also a reminder that del Rey can really write when he puts his mind to it. It’s hard to say more without giving the whole story away. A solid three stars.

The Fur People, by D. M. Melton

On Mars, there is enough air in the deep canyons and ancient seabeds to support life. The most important life form is a lichen from which it is possible to derive an anti-aging drug. This has brought the moss hunters. As in any gold rush, some men make their fortune, some manage to make enough to get by, while others barely scrape by and still others disappear entirely. The other life form of note is the rock puppies, cute and sociable little creatures that some find endearing and share food and water with, and others find annoying and use for target practice.

Moss hunter Bart “Lucky” Hansen, traveling with an orphaned rock puppy, is contemplating his route when he decides on a whim to take a risky shortcut across a high plateau. On the way, he encounters a young woman, clearly fresh from Earth, staggering across the desert. He rescues her and gets her to safety in a deep canyon. After explaining that she was attacked by a group of moss hunters, she hijacks Hansen’s sand car and heads for the nearest dome. Hansen is picked up by the group chasing her and travels with them until they catch up with the woman. Hansen then manages to get to her side, and the two of them try to figure out a way to escape.


The girl and Hansen meet again. Art by Giunta

Melton is this month’s first time author. It shows. The title, along with Hansen wondering why fur people are always nicer than skin people, really gives the game away. There’s also the fact that the young woman at the heart of this story never gets a name and is always referred to as “the girl”. (From this, I infer that the D in the author’s name is more likely to stand for Daniel than Dorothy.) Still, it’s not a bad first effort, and I wouldn’t mind seeing more from this author. A low three stars.

In Our Block, by R. A. Lafferty

Intrigued by the shanties that have sprung up on a dead-end block and the fact that a shack seven feet on a side put out enough 8” x 8” x 3’ cartons to fill a 40 foot trailer in one morning, Art Slick and Jim Boomer take a walk around the block. On the way, they meet several odd people.

That’s it. That’s the whole story. But it’s quintessential Lafferty. If you like Lafferty, you’ll like this story; if you don’t, you won’t. Three stars.

Wow, this is turning out to be a pretty good issue. What could possibly spoil it?

Skylark DuQuesne (Part 2 of 5), by E. E. Smith

Oh. Right. Sigh.

Seaton and Crane have commandeered the output of hundreds of planets and set up a production area covering ten thousand square miles to create defenses. Against one man. Seaton then interacts with several characters I presume are from the earlier novels. No point to it, just old familiar faces for the fans. Following all that, Seaton receives the message sent out by DuQuesne at the end of the last installment. After being filled in on DuQuesne’s encounter with the Llurdi, Seaton invites him to the Skylark of Valeron for further consultation.

Cut to the Jelmi, still fleeing the Llurdi. On the way, their senior scientist just happens to invent teleportation (as you do). Now they need to find a solar system emanating enough sixth-order energy to screen them from their enemies. After nearly a month of searching, the finally find the Earth’s solar system. Finding the Moon uninhabited, with only a couple of abandoned American and Russian outposts, they deem it suitable for their purposes, land in secret, and begin building a superdreadnaught (sic) to be called the Mallidaxian.

Then they kidnap an exotic dancer and a man she keeps running into by accident from a Florida beach. Why? Because they’re puzzled by her job and the Earth concept of shame. Then the Jelmi pat the couple on the heads, promise them a couple of quarts of diamonds as compensation, and send them home. After going on a bender, the two of them decide to contact a Norlaminian Observer, who kicks the problem upstairs until it reaches Dick Seaton. Now he knows about the Jelmi.

DuQuesne arrives at the Skylark of Valeron and is stunned by its size. Overcome with jealousy, he plans once again to destroy the Skylarkers and set himself up as emperor of a galaxy. Seaton hands over plans of his ship so that DuQuesne can build his own. Then DuQuesne uses a bit of subterfuge to send Seaton and company off to Galaxy DW-427-LU, which the Llurdi are worried about, while he runs off to make contact with the Jelmi.

Having done so, DuQuesne cons the Jelmi, who blithely hand over their plans for the teleporter and ask him to contribute to their genetic diversity (the old-fashioned way). Then it’s back to Earth where he hires half a dozen assassins. Finally, he catches up with the Skylark of Valeron and teleports his killers aboard. Fortunately for the good guys, the gravity aboard is set low for the comfort of some visitors. The killers are killed, and Seaton dives for a control helmet, suspecting rightly that DuQuesne is behind the attack. But at that moment a klaxon sounds. The Skylark of Valeron is under an attack so massive that its defensive screens will surely fail in a matter of seconds. To be continued.


Probably the Mallidaxian, but it could be DuQuesne’s Capital D. Art by Morrow

Last month, I said there was some decent line-by-line writing. Not this time. It’s full of lengthy and pointless digressions. That whole episode with the dancer goes on forever and is only there so that Seaton and DuQuesne can find out about the Jelmi without Seaton actually contacting them. Worse still, Marc DuQuesne goes from a marginally complex figure to an absolute mustache-twirling villain motivated entirely by jealousy and megalomania. But the thing that annoyed me most was the excessive use of the word “wherefore”. It crops up at least half a dozen times in the sense of “as a result” or “knowing that” and it limps badly. I stumbled over it every time. I think it’s a bit of antiquated slang usage and it’s bad. I still haven’t thrown the magazine across the room, so I guess this gets a very, very low two stars.

Summing Up

Other than the toxic exercise in nostalgia that pollutes the end, this is a pretty good issue. If we’re lucky, it’s an indication that IF is coming out of the doldrums. If we aren’t, it’s an indication that Fred Pohl knows how bad Skylark DuQuesne is and that a lot of readers aren’t going to be happy with the pages it’s taking up, wherefore and as a result he’s pulling out all the stops and running the very best stuff he has in the barrel as compensation. That could mean once this is over, he’ll have a lot of mediocrity that needs to run.




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Magazine

[May 28, 1965] Heavyweight's Burden (June 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

How the Mighty have Fallen

Since 1953, Sonny Liston has been a big name in boxing.  Liston's spectacular career, marred by a prison hitch and rumored connections with organized crime, reached its pinnacle when he defeated Floyd Patterson in 1962 to become the world heavyweight champ.

He kept the title for two years, losing it in an upset to newcomer Cassius Clay.  In last week's rematch, Clay, now named Muhammad Ali, beat Liston even more handily.  Ali looks like he'll be keeping his title for a long time.

John W. Campbell Jr.'s Astounding was the heavyweight champion of science fiction magazines in the late 1930s, standing head and shoulders above its pulp competition.  It retained this title all through the Golden Age of SF, which lasted through the 1940s.

For the last fifteen years, Astounding (now called Analog) has maintained the highest circulation numbers, by far, of the science fiction digests.  It survived the mass extinctions of the late 1950s.  Campbell is still at the tiller.

But there are signs that the old champion could become easy pickings for a scrappy newcomer.  A recent flirtation with the "slick" format and dimensions was a dismal failure. The contents of the once-proud magazine have been staid for a long time.  Then, of course, there's Campbell's personal weirdness, his obsession with fringe sciences, his odious opinions on race relations.

That's not to say Analog is an unworthy magazine, but it's got its problems.  Exhibit A of Analog's vulnerability: the latest issue.

Handicapping the Reigning Champion


Did Campbell forget his is a science fiction magazine?

If I were a gambling house, I'd want to give my champion a thorough vetting, analyzing all of its strengths and weaknesses, and coming up with odds of victory accordingly.  Let's imagine the June 1965 issue as a kind of exhibition bout and see how it does.

The Muddle of the Woad, by Randall Garrett


by John Schoenherr

The bell rings, and our champion is looking good.  Randall Garrett is back with his third Lord Darcy story, a magical mystery series set in an alternate 20th Century in which England and France are united, Poland is the big adversary, and sorcery exists alongside technology.  The Lord Detective, along with his tubby Irish spell-casting sidekick, Sean, solve the murders of the Empire's most prestigious citizens.

In the deliciously pun-titled case, Lord Camberton of Kent is found dead in a coffin intended for someone else, his body dyed blue with woad.  Suspicion immediately falls on the Albion Society, a group of druids who reject Christianity.  But is this a red herring?  As with any good mystery, the cast of suspects is limited, and the ending involves the classic summoning of all to a room for a final deduction of the culprit.

Good stuff, as always.  A fine story and a rich universe.  Four stars.

Glimpses of the Moon, by Wallace West


by John Schoenherr

Oh, but now the champion is faltering.  Wallace West, who wrote the rather delightful River of Time offers up a clunker of a tale.  It is the late 1960s, and a three-way race to the Moon between American, the Soviet Union, and Great Britain has ended in something of a tie.  While the representative of the U.S.A. clearly landed first, the Soviets claim that the Moon is the property of whichever country whose skies it happens to be in at any given time.  Thus, ownership cycles with every day.  In the end, it turns out that a fourth power has a much earlier claim on the body.

It's all very silly, but not in a particularly fun way.  Two stars.

Hydrogen Fusion Reactor, by Edward C. Walterscheid

Last month, there was an article on magnetohydrodynamics — the use of magnetic bottles to contain thermonuclear reactions.  This month, the science fact article is exclusively on nuclear fusion.  Indeed, so proud is Campbell of this piece that he gave it the cover.

I was eager to learn about the state of development of this promising power source. Sadly, Walterscheid has not yet learned how to subdivide his points. Or write interesting prose. The result is an impenetrable wall.

Hmmm.  Perhaps the article could be repurposed to line the walls of tomorrow's fusion reactor…

Two stars.  Folks, the champion is staggering!

The GM Effect, by Frank Herbert


by Robert Swanson

Oh boy. Dune author Frank Herbert is back, and with another talking head story.  Unlike his last one, which involved a congressional hearing on a widely distributed superweapon, The GM Effect is about a drug that allows takes to experience former lives.  When it is discovered that this reveals all sorts of unsavory and forgotten tidbits of history (including that a Southern senator is one-quarter black), the drug's developers decide to cancel production.  Then the military comes in, shoots the drug creators, and appropriates their creation.

Not only is the story rather pointless, it's distasteful.  Herbert seems to be gleeful that Lincoln was personally no great lover of black Americans, and when the murdering general describes the erstwhile scientists as "N*gg*r lovers," I get less the sense that the utterer is supposed to be the bad guy and more that the author was delighted to be able to squeeze the word into a story.

One star…and our champion is down, folks!  He's down!

Duel to the Death, by Christopher Anvil


by John Schoenherr

Nearly 30 years ago, Analog's editor wrote Who Goes There.  One of the genre's seminal stories, it details the infiltration of an Antarctic base by a body-snatching alien, one that spreads via touch.  The result is that one cannot tell friend from foe anymore.  It's a chilling premise that has since been used to great effect, for instance by Robert Heinlein in The Puppet Masters..

Duel is a fairly straight entry in the genre.  A spacer on a new planet has his suit punctured by some sort of dart, and he quickly succumbs to alien control.  The purloined body becomes Ground Zero of an alien invasion that quickly takes over a nearby space fleet.  Thus ensues a race against time: can the Terran Navy defeat this scourge before it absorbs the whole of humanity?

Most of this story is quite good, with some very interesting story-telling, often from the point of view of inanimate objects: the space suit of the first victim, the ship's sensors of the investigating fleet, the communications devices employed by the humans.

But, to distinguish Duel from its predecessors, the author ends the piece with a twist that doesn't quite work.  I understand it, I think, but I don't quite buy it.

Three stars — good enough to bring our champion back to his feet, but flawed enough that he leaves the ring dazed.

Summing Up

Running our champion's performance through the Star-O-Vac, we come up with a rating of just 2.5.  That's pretty bad.  In a head-to-head against the other magazines of this month (and there was a bumper crop), how would Analog have fared?

Not well, it turns out.  Partly, it's because the competition was quite strong: Fantasy and Science Fiction ended up on top with an impressive 3.5 rating.  Worlds of Tomorrow garnered 3.2 stars and Galaxy got 3.1.  Both Amazing and New Worlds got three stars, while Fantastic and Science Fantasy finished at a sub-par 2.8.

Only If ranked lower than Analog, meriting just 2.2 stars (sorry David!)

So, a disappointing performance by Campbell's mag augurs poorly for it. Will there be a Muhammad Ali of science fiction publications?

(P.S. Women wrote six of the 55 fiction pieces this month; none appeared in Analog — connection?)




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[May 26th 1965] Mind Control, Aldiss and Time Travel (New Worlds and Science Fantasy, June 1965)

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

After the hoo-ha of celebrating New Worlds’s 150th issue last month, we’re back to some sort of normality. But if you thought things were getting boring – think again! We are all counting down to the much-expected Worldcon in the Summer, only a couple of months away from the time I’m writing. This includes the magazines themselves.

But first, let’s get to the issue that arrived first in the post this month: the June issue of Science Fantasy.

We have another painting on the cover by the prolific Keith Roberts. I almost like this one, although your guess as to what it shows is as good as anyone else’s.

Interestingly, a glance at the front and back covers shows us (once again) names mentioned that are not in this issue. This includes the aforementioned Keith Roberts, with stories clearly held over for some reason. And whither, Philip Wordley?

On a more positive note, I do like Kyril’s Editorials, perhaps more than Mike Moorcock’s in New Worlds. Mike’s prose always comes across as a lecture, whilst Kyril’s is more chatty. This may be relevant this month, as Kyril uses an Aldiss quote at a starting point,"The job of a critic consists of knowing when he is being bored, and why", and then takes to task the term ‘well-written’, a phrase I have been guilty of using often in these here articles. He makes the point that well-written can mean that the prose is florid – “it exhibits bursts of purple mandarin-fiction” or is ‘easy to read’ and therefore less boring.

And using that analogy I might be as bold as to say that Moorcock’s New Worlds editorials are erudite, whilst Kyril’s are less boring. His use of a James Bond book to explain this is inspired, although the topic is left with a promise to come back to it at a later date.

To the stories themselves.

The Impossible Smile (part 2 of 2), by Jael Cracken

The second part of this serial by Brian Aldiss under a different name is not the only time we will come across Brian this month. The Impossible Smile begins where we pretty much left off – in a future dystopian state telepath Conrad Wyvern has been captured and taken to the Moon where the artificial intelligence ‘Big Bert’ is waiting. The government through their lunar representative Colonel H hope to link Wyvern to Bert the Brain and so read the minds of the whole population. For Wyvern, the risk is that the process will kill him, as it it did previous test subjects.

So: a fast-paced tale with lots of action and running about. Much of this second part is about what happens when Wyvern & Big Bert are connected, and Wyvern’s subsequent escape from the hospital he is imprisoned in. (I know – he’s on the Moon! Where would he escape to?) There’s some typical inner mind psychedelia and out of body experiences (walls of eyeballs!) which seem rather de rigueur at the moment. All hail the telepathic New Order!

Aldiss continues to tell an entertaining yarn which is great fun, if ultimately rather superficial. Not his best, but still readable. 3 out of 5.

Great and Small, by G. L. Lack

Not a name I immediately know, although he/she was in the New Writings in SF 2 story collection that I couldn’t finish. This is his/her first time in Science Fantasy. Great and Small is a strange little story about a man and his ongoing conversation with a fly, that often seen but generally unnoticeable insect. The man wakes up in a hospital to find a fly buzzing around – but wait! All flies are extinct, thanks to yet another apocalyptic event. The man feeds the fly some jam and then it buzzes off to meet another fly, presumably to dominate the new global ecosystem. As I said, odd and although it is interesting, not really worth much attention. 2 out of 5.

Ploop, by Ron Pritchett

Names are important, aren’t they? I must admit that the childish part of my brain struggled to cope with a character named ‘Ploop’.

Ploop is an alien and this minor story is about its first meeting with another alien race. Unsurprisingly, the aliens are humans and although Ploop looks like a dog it is in fact something else much more dangerous.

Ron is a new author and whilst this is a valiant effort, it shows. I suspect we may not see much more of him. A placeholder using a tired idea. 2 out of 5.

Peace on Earth, by Paul Jents

Paul was last seen with the very odd Unto All Generations in the July/August 1964 issue. This is one of those stories with a twist in the tail, the story of the Earth’s first landing on the Moon with a horrible discovery at the end. Suffice it to say that the Moon is not made of green cheese but has something much worse. Another tired old cliché. 2 out of 5.

Deterrent, by Alastair Bevan

The return of someone who has become a recent regular, that of Keith Roberts by another name. Unsurprisingly, the topline describes Mr Bevan as “one of our best finds”. Deterrent is a story of seemingly primitive cave-people living a tribal existence until they discover what appears to be a nuclear weapon, the unsurprising post-apocalyptic twist in the tale. Not really anything to shout about, as something that has been done before and often. Must admit, though, that it is the first time I’ve ever read of Gods having a “xylophone presence.” 3 out of 5.

A Pleasure Shared, by Brian W. Aldiss

A name that needs no explanation from me – have I reminded you this month yet that he is to be a Guest of Honour at the London Worldcon in August? His prolific nature is noticeable at the moment. Last month he had published two very different stories in the two magazines – this month he has two in the same issue. A Pleasure Shared is however a reprint, first published in the USA in December 1962. The banner heading is very careful to point out that it is not science fiction in the accepted sense of the word, but “a triumph of empathetic fiction” – whatever that means.

What A Pleasure Shared actually is is a contemporary horror story, written from the perspective of a killer. Outwardly Mr Cream seems nice, polite and pleasant, but as we read his internalised monologue here it is clear that he is really not well. He has murdered, more than once. We know this from the beginning, because the woman he killed last night is still in his bedsit room. This would be bad enough but an accident to his widowed neighbour means that things take an unexpected turn at the end. This is really one in the style and tone of William Powell’s film Peeping Tom from a couple of years ago or Robert Bloch’s Psycho. It is shocking and memorable. Is it science fiction? No. But it is a very, very good story. I can see why Kyril has wanted to publish it. The best of the issue for me, and certainly the most memorable. Who would have thought that that nice Mr. Aldiss could come up with something so depraved? Shame its taken so long to appear here in Britain, though. 4 out of 5.

Prisoner, by Patricia Hocknell

Back to something a little more mundane, now. Another story from Patricia, last seen in the January/February 1965 issue with Only the Best. It begins as if the narrator is a convict with no knowledge of where they are or how they got there. All is revealed at the end with another twist in the tale. Again, OK, but nothing really new. 3 out of 5.

In Reason’s Ear, by Pippin Graham

Another new name to me. In this story, John Wetherall is a man recently returned to London after working in West Africa for the UKESCM (the United Kingdom Educational, Scientific and Cultural Mission) who seem to be a branch of the Foreign Office. John finds himself in trouble when after helping an old friend he discovers that the friend is supposedly dead, killed on an expedition to the Moon a few months ago.

I quite liked this one, although it is remarkably mannered. The US Intelligence Service at one point knock on a door to be told “Go away, I don’t answer my door at night”, which they do! This is in marked contrast to some other elements of the story which show a world out of control. Wetherall is shocked to find that London is prone to rampaging teenagers with little police support available to tackle them, and Graham does well to describe what he sees as he goes about the city. There are regular gatherings of these dancing, marijuana-smoking, knife-wielding, riotous young tearaways and they seem to put the rest of the general public in a state of fear – as if the general story of the Moon being dangerous wasn’t enough.

Whilst I see the story as a prime example of paranoiac adults being fearful for their future, I liked some of the ideas shown here. The story fizzles out with a now-traditional enigmatic ending, but overall it kept me reading. Whilst not superlative, and some definite flaws, it is one of this month’s better offerings for me. 3 out of 5.

Xenophilia, by Thom Keyes

A name we’ve come across before, in New Worlds in January 1965. His last story (Election Campaign) was underwhelming. Xenophilia is a story of alien love that begins like Casino Royale in Space before delving into the realms of alien sex. Short, it reads like a more explicit version of the old Bug-Eyed-Monster stories of yesteryear. I suspect that it is meant to shock. However, whilst it is still weird, I found the short story more palatable than his last. 3 out of 5.

Summing up Science Fantasy

Let’s start with a good point. Despite Brian Aldiss appearing twice, there is a greater range of stories this month, and I’m pleased to see that there are both more new writers and even a woman writer in this issue. This can only be good for the field, but only if the material published is good enough to stand merit – in other words, (with apologies to Kyril and Brian Aldiss, paraphrasing the Editorial) it is well-written. And that’s my problem with this issue.

It is clear that there’s been some last-minute changes made to what is included here, and although there’s nothing really bad in this issue, much of it isn’t that good either. The Pippin Graham story was odd yet memorable, whilst the standout by far was the second Aldiss story. Normally this would be a cause for celebration, but it is a reprint. This is not the first time in Science Fantasy or New Worlds in recent months where the best material is old material – a worrying trend. Overall, an oddly underwhelming issue. Not bad but not great.

Let’s go to my second magazine.

The Second Issue At Hand

After last month’s focus on stories, we’re back to normal with Issue 151. There’s book reviews, science articles, letters – and some fiction.

 

The cover shows a change though. The un-credited image shows that we have (finally!) moved away from the circle covers to something less circular and more abstract. It is certainly colourful and grabs your attention, but is it science fiction?

The Editorial also raises the ongoing discussion of what is Science Fiction, a debate that has been going on for months, if not years. Moorcock tries to examine this further but spends much of his time eliminating what Science Fiction is not. The title, ‘Process of Elimination’ explains why. And its findings in the end? Not a lot, other than the definition should be broad rather than narrow. It then looks at how the American magazines have evolved to illustrate this, citing The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction as the best example of how to move on from Campbell’s rather restrictive definition in magazines like Analog. This seems to be a determined attempt to broaden the template of New Worlds, something which Moorcock has been determined to do since he took over as Editor.

 

The Ship of Disaster, by B. J. Bayley

Elen-Gereth – the elf who wants to be Elric.  Art by James Cawthorn.

When this one begins it feels like Bayley has been reading a lot of Moorcock’s Elric stories – the vessel named The Ship of Disaster is a ship captained by Elen-Gereth, an elf, who takes great delight in sinking a human trading vessel and taking hostage its captain, a human named Kelgynn. All of this wouldn’t be amiss in the seas around Elric’s Melnibone, though this lacks the panache of Moorcock’s version. Elen-Gereth is appropriately brooding and complex. However, a story that reads like it should be in Science Fantasy rather than New Worlds has the twist that makes it more science-fictional, although its connection to SF is relatively slight. 3 out of 5.

Apartness, by Vernor Vinge

This is the first story I’ve read from a relatively new American writer. Apartness is a post-apocalyptic tale, with the Earth’s Northern hemisphere destroyed two hundred years ago in the North World War. The regions of the South exist as disparate groups by using a strange combination of science and mysticism – astrologers make decisions based on scientific evidence, for example.

The story is essentially a conflict between two groups in the Antarctic. One of them is a group from the Southern countries and the other a new tribe found on a general observational recce. The twist in the story is that the new group is the offspring of two refugee ships, luxury cruise liners fleeing the conflict. There is talk about what to do with them – should they continue to be observed but undisturbed, or should they be decimated as the descendants of white oppressors?

I enjoyed it a lot and expect to read more of his writing in the future, although it does feel more like something for Analog and The Magazine of Fantasy and SF than New Worlds. But a promising start – I suspect we’ll see more from this talented new writer in the future. 3 out of 5.

Convolutions, by George Collyn

Appropriately dark art for a dark story.  Art by Douthwaite.

George Collyn returns with a story that is quite different to his last, which was In One Sad Day in the April 1965 issue. It is a story of the awakening of an alien that feeds on fear and finds Earth an suitable place for colonisation. One of those very common stories that begins with “Who am I?” and then “Where am I?” (See also Patricia Hocknell’s Prisoner in Science Fantasy this month.) 3 out of 5.

Last Man Home, by R. W. Mackelworth

R W Mackelworth has a tendency of writing strange tales with varying degrees of success. His last was the attempt to be humorous story, The Changing Shape of Charlie Snuff in the April 1965 issue. It didn’t work for me, but this story is less funny and more to my tastes. Even if it is yet another post-apocalyptic story. Here we have bowler-hatted Jennings, a wandering tinker who relates his experiences to us by describing what he has seen and who he has met on his travels in the post-nuclear wilderness. On his arrival in the city-state of Gat we find Jennings and his donkey companion Jess arrive to tell the city elders that there is life in the Wastelands and then returns there. There are positive signs of life, leaving a certain degree of optimism in the end. The emphasis is on what is around Jennings rather than Jennings himself. It’s fine, if too long, but I’ve read it all before – notable for its un-remarkableness. 3 out of 5.

The Life Buyer (Part 3 of 3), by E.C. Tubb

The Sand Pit of Terror! (Actually, Moondust – but you get the idea).  Art by aTom.

We begin the last part of this entertaining three-part serial by following Ransom, the suspect our two detectives Dale Markham and Steve Delmonte have been monitoring. Ransom is looking for Joe Langdy, a search that will take him to the Moon. The first few chapters of this part we spend following Ransom in his search, which is pretty pointless. The end of this revenge story is where the two detectives explain their solution as to who wants to kill millionaire Marcus King. It wraps everything up pretty quickly in the end. It’s a solid enough tale, with the moral that money can’t quite buy you everything. 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews, Articles and Letters

I’m really pleased to see the return of Book Reviews, Science Articles and Letters this month. I missed them last issue.

The Book Reviews seem to want to make up for their absence of last month by taking up what seems like more space than usual this time around. Assistant Editor Langdon Jones deals with the longer, more-in-depth reviews this month of A Man of Double Deed by Leonard Daventry, which is readable, and Sundog by B N Ball, which wasn’t. John Brunner’s Telepathist was surprisingly new and interesting, and seen by Langdon Jones as one of Brunner’s best, before ending with the cryptic comment that it “….will probably be the last really good novel of science fiction that we will see from British writers.”

There are minor reviews for Ray Bradbury’s ‘tremendous’ Something Wicked This Way Comes and Of Demons and Darkness by John Collier, which is ‘repetitive’. John Carnell’s story collection New Writings in SF 2 is given a one-sentence review of “not very interesting”. (And having tried to read it myself, I can only agree.)

Charles Platt gives us one in-depth review this month, under the title of Diary of a Schizoid Hypochondriac. He reviews Brian Aldiss’s Earthworks, which he describes as “a monotonous diary of a schizoid hypochondriac of dubious intelligence who is pushed around throughout the book, including an irrelevant three-chapter flashback, by Higher Powers, until finally discovering an Answer which was obvious to the reader two chapters previously.” Hmm – not a fan then, Mr. Platt?

Editor Mike Moorcock as James Colvin offers us seven ’Quick Reviews’ of After Doomsday and Shield by Poul Anderson, The Martian Way by Isaac Asimov, The Drowned World by J G Ballard, New Writings in SF 3 and Lambda 1 and Others both edited by John Carnell and The Seventh Galaxy Reader edited by Frederik Pohl.

As you might expect from Colvin/Moorcock, he is effusive about the Ballard and the Carnell collections, and more scathing of the American imports. He defends his opinion of Poul Anderson’s work (like Mr Platt earlier, he’s not a fan either), preferring Asimov’s The Martian Way because Asimov is better on the science and more tightly controlled in his writing.

He also makes the claim that although he thought The Magazine of Fantasy and SF was his favourite American magazine, reading The Seventh Galaxy Reader has made him change his mind. (Pause here whilst our reviewer of Galaxy here at Galactic Journey picks himself off the floor…)

One oddity: We have James Colvin, who remember is really Mike Moorcock, reviewing Warriors of Mars by Edward P Bradbury, who is really Mike Moorcock. Confused? An Edgar Rice Burroughs influenced story, it is unsurprisingly “as good as anything by the Old Master”. Hmm.

The article is Gas Lenses Developed for Communications by Laser, a title which describes the article admirably.

The Letters pages continue to debate the ongoing issue of what is science fiction, and therefore what should or shouldn’t be included in New Worlds.


Ratings this month for issue 149 (the April 1965 issue). Life Buyer (part 1) doing well. Lots of joint runners up, which suggests to me either few reader responses or an issue that divides readers.

Summing up New Worlds

This is a good solid issue, though rarely outstanding. I enjoyed it more than the ‘Star Issue’ last month, if I’m honest. The title story I’m not sure that I totally got, but the Tubb serial was nicely done, if a little drawn out. Vernor Vinge is a name to watch out for in the future, I think.

 

Summing up overall

Both issues this month are solid, yet rather mundane. Science Fantasy seems to have gone for more stories and a greater variety, New Worlds has fewer stories but is mostly based on work by more New Worlds regulars. Like last month, the most memorable story (Aldiss’s A Pleasure Shared) is in Science Fantasy, but New Worlds is better overall. It is a lot closer than last month, but in the end this month’s best issue for me is Science Fantasy.

And that’s it for this time. Until the next…




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[May 22, 1965] Goodbye and Hello (June 1965 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Departures and Arrivals

One of the more intriguing events this month was the death of a celebrity, although not one you're likely to see in the obituary column. A tortoise known as Tu'i Malila (meaning King Malila in the Tongan language, although she was female) died on the sixteenth of May. Why is this notable? Well, they say she was one hundred and eighty-eight years old, a ripe old age, even for a tortoise.

The story goes that Captain Cook gave her to the royal family of Tonga way back in 1777, making her nearly as old as the good old USA. Some dispute this story, although there is no doubt that she lived in Tonga for a very long time indeed. No stranger to royalty, she greeted the newly crowned Queen Elizabeth II when that monarch visited Tonga, a British protectorate, in 1953.


That's Elizabeth on the left, Tu'i Malila on the ground. You knew that, right?

As we bid farewell to this extraordinary reptile, we greet a new British import at the top of the American popular music charts. Herman's Hermits, hailing from Manchester, England, hit Number One this month with their version of Mrs. Brown, You've Got a Lovely Daughter, a song first performed by actor Tom Courtenay in a British television play a couple of years ago.

Unlike many of the singers in British rock 'n' roll bands, lead man Peter Noone makes no attempt to disguise his accent. If anything, it sounds like he's exaggerating his Mancunian way of talking. (Yes, I just now learned the word Mancunian, and I'm showing off.)


Nobody in the band is named Herman. Go figure.

Exit Cele, Enter Joseph

My esteemed colleague John Boston has already reported, in fine detail, on the Ziff-Davis company selling Amazing and Fantastic to Sol Cohen. Editor Cele Goldsmith Lalli will remain with Ziff-Davis, working on their publication Modern Bride. Frankly, I think that's a step up for her, given the minimal interest that the publisher had in their fiction magazines.

Joseph Wrzos, using the more Anglo-Saxon name Joseph Ross, will be the editor, under the direction of Cohen. Fantastic will contain reprints from old issues of the two Ziff-Davis magazines, as will Amazing. The sister publications will alternate bimonthly publication. Of course, they will continue to publish new stories purchased by Lalli for a while, given the exceedingly slow way the publishing industry works. I hope that Wrzos will also offer previously unseen work once these run out.

As we lift a glass of champagne to Cele, and bid her a fond bon voyage as she sets sail for the world of wedding dresses and honeymoons, let's take a look at the last issue that will bear her name.


Cover art by Gray Morrow

Thelinde's Song, by Roger Zelazny

You may recall the story Passage to Dilfar in the February issue, which introduced the character Dilvish the Damned. He was a mysterious figure indeed, and that tale provided only hints as to his strange nature. This one gives us some of his background.

A young sorceress sings a ballad about Dilvish and the evil wizard Jelerak. Her mother warns her not to speak the name of the villain aloud, lest she draw the attention of one of his wicked minions. She then relates the encounter between the half-elf Dilvish and the sorcerer, as Jelerak was about to sacrifice a virgin in order to work his black magic.

Jelerak turned the heroic Dilvish into stone, and sent his soul to Hell. A couple of centuries later, Dilvish managed to return to life, this time with a talking steel horse as his mount. The rest of the story shows us why it's a bad idea to speak the name of Jelerak.

Although Dilvish only appears in flashback, he dominates the story, becoming a fascinating character. The author's style is poetic, creating a memorable sword-and-sorcery adventure. I hope we see more tales in this series.

Four stars.


This anonymous illustration appears at the end of the story. It has nothing to do with anything in the magazine.

The Destroyer, by Thomas N. Scortia

The setting is some time after a limited nuclear war, which apparently more-or-less destroyed Asia. The Western world, it seems, recovered nicely, leading to a society well on its way to a technological utopia. People travel by riding some kind of electromagnetic beams. For all intents and purposes, this is pretty much flying like Superman.

Anyway, the protagonist is the head of something called the Genetic Bank, which controls the manipulation of plant and animal genes. A government agent asks him to report any evidence of human genetic tampering, which is a crime so severe that it carries the only death penalty left on the book.

The hero investigates the case of a young boy named Julio. Although classified as severely mentally disabled, he has somehow managed to create a pair of magnetic blocks that produce a stream of energy between them.

Meanwhile, the main character's love interest, a woman just back from Titan, is dying from a fungus acquired on that moon of Saturn. When Julio removes a mole from the man's hand, just by thinking about it, you can predict what's going to happen at the end. Along the way the government agent gets involved in things, seeing Julio as a threat to the planet.

There are very few surprises in this tale of a kid with superhuman mental powers. The background is somewhat interesting, even if implausible. The premise that Earth folk have become timid and complacent, compared to those who explore the Solar System, was intriguing, but didn't lead to much. The notion that there is something inherently wrong with the accepted view of science, compared to the way the boy thinks, was unconvincing. Overall, I got the feeling that I've read this stuff before, as if it were a mediocre story from Analog.

Two stars.

The Penultimate Shore, by Stanley E. Aspittle, Jr.

A writer completely unknown to me spins a dream-like fantasy with hints of allegory. A man named Cipher winds up on a deserted shore after a shipwreck. Half-sunken into the ocean are the ruins of a city. He has visions of a boy and girl in the waves. A woman named Huitzlin, the Aztec word for hummingbird, emerges from the sea and becomes his lover. An old man called Thanatos shows up as well. It all leads up to Cipher's final fate.

I really don't know what to make of this story. It's full of beautiful and evocative descriptions, but the author's intention is opaque. The character's names are suggestive, but the symbolism is unclear, except for the way that Thanatos is explicitly connected with death. If nothing else, it made me think, which is a good thing, I suppose.

Three stars.

The Other Side of Time (Part Three of Three), by Keith Laumer

Our universe-hopping narrator escapes from the prehistoric world where he wound up last time with the help of his ape-man buddy from another reality. The hairy fellow explains that the evil folks from yet another parallel cosmos — another type of ape-men — destroyed the hero's home world.

All seems lost, until the buddy suggests that it might be possible to travel to that universe in such a way that the narrator arrives there before it's wiped out. In a nutshell, time travel.

The hero shows up just a short time before things are going to go very badly indeed. Not only does he face the menace of the invading ape-men, he has to convince the local authorities of his identity. Then there's the mysterious burning figure he encountered in the first installment; what does that have to do with anything?

After the relatively calm mood of the second part, the conclusion of the novel returns to the frenzied pace of the first part. There's also a lot of scientific double talk to try to justify the odd way that time travel operates in this story. It held my interest, even if I didn't believe in anything that was happening for a moment. Compared to the highly enjoyable middle section, the rest of the novel is merely a decent enough science fiction action yarn.

Three stars.


Another piece of filler art. I actually like this abstract image.

The Little Doors, by David R. Bunch

Two pages of pure surrealism from the the magazine's most controversial author. Some white egg-shaped things come out of the little doors of the title and onto an egg-shaped stage. Rectangular black things show up, open the lids of the egg-things, put pieces of themselves inside, and pull out small stones of multiple colors.

If the author is trying to make some kind of serious point, he doesn't help matters by called the stage ogg, the white things loolbools, and the black things guenchgrops. Maybe it's just my dirty mind, but I got the feeling that this was some kind of bizarre metaphor for human reproduction. I have to give it a little credit for sheer weirdness.

Two stars.


Has someone been doodling on the page?

Phog, by Piers Anthony

The inhabitants of a strange world face the menace of a seemingly sentient cloud of poisonous gas, as well as the deadly beast that lurks inside it. After losing his sister to the thing, a boy grows up to build an elaborate trap for it. Capturing and destroying the cloud and the creature is not at all easy, coming only at great cost.

The author certainly shows plenty of imagination. The way in which the young man uses sunlight, the cloud's only weakness, is interesting. Other than that, the plot proceeds just about the way you expect it to.

Three stars.

Silence, by J. Hunter Holly

Because the Noble Editor wishes to keep track of the number of female authors published in the genre magazines, allow me to point out the J stands for Joan. She's published half a dozen or so science fiction novels. I believe this is her first short story to see the light of day.

In an overpopulated future full of noisy gadgets, the level of sound increases to the point where people no longer hear. Their ears still work, you understand; it's just that their brains turn off the sensation of hearing. Music is just something that causes needles to move around on dials.

The protagonist is one such musician. He regains his hearing, in a society that has completely forgotten about sound, by blocking out all sources of noise, until his brain regains its lost function. His attempt to bring his rediscovery of real music to audiences leads to an ironic ending.

The premise is intriguing, if not the most believable one in the world. I found it hard to accept that music would survive in the way the story suggests among people who can't hear it. I'll admit that I liked the downbeat conclusion.

Three stars.

Before We Say Farewell

We have a typical issue of the magazine, with some high points, some low points, and a lot in the middle. I'd like to take a moment to look back on the editor's time with the publication. She introduced promising new writers like LeGuin, Disch, and Zelazny, who have already proved their worth. More questionably, she published the unique work of Bunch, which certainly tests the limits of fantastic literature. She also helped Leiber get back to the typewriter, which justifies her career all by itself. I'm sure we all wish her well in her new line of work.

Thanks, Cele!




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[May 18, 1965] Rubber Ball (or Skip the End) (June 1965 Fantasy & Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Bouncin' Back to You

Cast your memories back to the distant past — about four years. Remember when Bobby Vee exploded on the scene with his first hit, Rubber Ball.

It's a song about a fellow who should know better than to stick with an untrue love but, like a rubber ball, keeps coming back to her anyhow.  The tune came to my mind more than once as I read this month's Fantasy and Science Fiction, a magazine that has plumbed depths often enough to tempt me to cancel my subscription, but on occasion (like this one) produces such an excellent issue that I remember the good times of the 1950s, and love is rekindled.

Is it the doing of new editor Joe Ferman?  Statistical variation?  Either way, it was a pleasure to read.  Come join me and see why:

Bounce my heart around


by James Roth

Admiralty, by Poul Anderson

We begin with an ending of sorts, the conclusion to the exploits of Gunnar Heim, late of the Federation Navy, now a privateer savaging the Aleriona patch of stars known as The Phoenix.  His goal, to prosecute an undeclared war to liberate the conquered human world of New Europe before its inhabitants run out of Vitamin C, is about to come to fruition.  But how can one ship achieve victory against a starfaring empire?  More personally, will an old flame of Heim's be waiting for him planetside when all is said and done?

Admiralty is Anderson near the top of his form, which, like a sine wave, has definite positive and negative amplitudes.  What makes the piece frustrating is its incompleteness.  This novella and the other two that have recently appeared in F&SF are about to be compiled into a book called The Star Fox, and I strongly suspect that there will be expansions above and beyond what has appeared in the magazines.  Indeed, some of the most exciting episodes in Admiralty, like the capture of the Aleriona prize, Meroeth, are dispatched in a paragraph or two of exposition.  What remains is something of a Readers Digest abridged version — entertaining but dissatisfying.

Also, I wish Anderson wouldn't assume that we all speak French; there are paragraphs and paragraphs of the stuff that go largely untranslated.  I'm going to start sending him letters in Japanese…

Anyway, four stars, for this and the whole sequence, and I suspect the book will be even better.  Certainly Hugo material.

Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, by Fredric Brown and Carl Onspaugh

Dooley Hanks, a clarinetist of modest talent but tremendous desire, scours the world looking (listening?) for The Sound.  When he finds it, in an obscure town in Germany, the temptation to claim it for his own becomes overpowering…and hazardous.

A powerful story, evocative and beautifully told, it's the kind of reworked fable Robert F. Young wishes he could write.

Five stars.


by Gahan Wilson — better than his previous ones

Books, by Judith Merril

Normally, I don't give inches to the book column, but Ms. Merril is cutting and insightful in a way I can only hope to approximate. Don't miss her take on the latest SF to cross her desk (many of which have been covered by the Journey).

Rake, by Ron Goulart

Ben Jolson, shape-changing agent of the Chameleon Corps, is back for another adventure.  This time, in the guise of a student, he's investigating the development of a super-weapon by an academic ensconced at a public college.

This tale is far more obviously slapstick than his previous one, which I had quite liked.  Rake is just too silly, too random to be very good, and there's no reason for such a short piece to begin in medias res followed by a flashback to How It All Began.

Two stars.

Phoenix (the Science Springboard), by Theodore L. Thomas

Normally, Thomas' non-fiction vignettes, more story seed than article, aren't worth the two pages they're printed on.  This time, I quite liked his postulation that at the center of every gas giant lies a terrestrial core.  I don't know if it's accurate; I don't know how we could verify the accuracy, but it is an exciting idea that the planets of the solar system all started out as roughly similar planetoids that grew atmospheres as time went on.  Only the inner ones lost theirs because it was too warm so close to the Sun.

Of course, it's easy to make models that fit the one set of data we have.

Four stars, anyway.

The Ancient Last, by Herb Lehrman

The first of two reader-submitted stories fulfilling the call for tales involving Univac and Unicorns.  This is the more poetic of the pair.  Interestingly, its poignant ending is somewhat marred by two additional paragraphs; because the offending superfluity occurs on a following page, I didn't originally see them, and I thought the ending was stronger than it ended up being.

Funny enough, I was recently rejected by F&SF, whose editor suggested I trim out my terminal line to give the ending more punch.  I did.  We'll see how it does.

Stand-In, by Greg Benford

Another first from a fellow San Diego native.  This Univac/Unicorn story is more swinging and fun, but not particularly consequential.

I give three stars to both.  I'm glad the authors got their breaks and I hope this sets them on their way to stardom.

Story of a Curse, by Doris Pitkin Buck

Earth spacers are forever restless in search of change, intolerant of stagnation.  But when Earth, itself, has changed, the astronauts see the folly of their wanderlust.

Long on emotion, short on coherence, Story is more prose-poem than science fiction.  I liked it well enough, though.  Three stars.

Nabonidus, by L. Sprague de Camp

Archaeologist meets a ghostly colleague of ancient vintage.  This poem has a strange meter, but again, it's appealing.  Three stars.

Future? Tense!, by Isaac Asimov

In a surprise disappointment, the science column is probably my least favorite piece of the issue.  The Good Doctor begins by relating how on-the-spot he feels when asked to predict the future, then says he'll do it anyway, and then doesn't really do it at all.

At a recent bookstore interview, I was asked if a science fiction story's value is based on its predictive accuracy.  I felt that the answer I gave ("No — its value is in how well it entertains; science fiction can't predict the future; it can only extrapolate current trends.") was better and more succinct than the one Dr. A offers.

Two stars.

Of Time and the Yan, by Roger Zelazny

The Last Man of Earth meets the Last Man of Mars; unfortunately, time is not on the side of humanity.

Zelazny increasingly makes his stories more affectedly "literate."  It may get his stories sold, but it's getting tedious.  Two stars.  (Your hue and cry tells me I'm a too-harsh boor.  I do not disagree.)

Jabez O'Brien and Davy Jones' Locker, by Robert Arthur

Lastly, here is the tale of a young New England fisherman who seeks to win fame, fortune, wisdom and happiness through the capture of a mermaid.  Instead, he winds up…well, best not to spoil this gem of a story.

It's an absolutely charming work, the best I've seen from Mr. Arthur, and made all the better for my imagining it being narrated by Fractured Fairy Tale's Edward Everett Horton (now you'll have his voice in your head, too!)

Five stars.

My heartstrings, they just snap

In the end, even this issue bounces around like a rubber ball, but the pages of quality far outnumber the momentary lapses.  The June 1965 issue of F&SF is a stand-out…and my love is rekindled.

Don't break my heart, Joe!

Don't forget to register for our show on May 23 at 1PM DT!  We really want to see you there and hear your questions.





https://event.webinarjam.com/register/34/3q3prsl6

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[May 14, 1965] Keep A Civil Tongue In Your Head (July 1965 Worlds of Tomorrow)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

The Four Forbidden Topics

Gathered around the dinner table with the family, or just chatting with friends, it's generally a good idea to avoid controversial subjects. Religion and politics, for example, are likely to lead to unpleasant arguments. Maybe Uncle Fred is a Goldwater buff, and Cousin Sue goes all the way with LBJ. Possibly you've got buddies who belong to different faiths, or none at all. Better to let sleeping dogs lie, and talk about something else.

The topic of money, or economics in general, may not be as controversial, but talking about how much you've got, or what somebody else earns, is generally considered to be in bad taste. As for sex, well, that's usually too personal to discuss, particularly if the kiddies are around.

Maybe it's a sign of the times, or maybe it's the influence of the British New Wave on science fiction, but the lead serial in the latest issue of Worlds of Tomorrow deals with religion, politics, and economics. That leaves sex, which shows up at the end of the magazine, like a tempting dessert.


Cover art by John Pederson, Jr.

Of Godlike Power (Part One of Two), by Mack Reynolds


Illustrations by Jack Gaughan

As indicated in the picture above, this novel takes place in a world of flying cars and other futuristic stuff. More relevant to the plot is the fact that automation results in a majority of folks being unemployed, but enjoying a reasonably comfortable existence in an affluent welfare society.

The protagonist hosts a radio show dealing with flying saucers, reincarnation, and other weird stuff. He's dating the daughter of the tycoon who owns the station, mostly in an attempt to move up to a position in television. Dad, daughter, and the station manager all belong to a right-wing organization dedicated to ferreting out commies and pinkos. (To give you some idea of this group, they think of the John Birch Society as too liberal.)

The manager asks our hero to check out the revival meetings of a preacher whom they suspect of subversion. He's supposed to be on a date with his wealthy girlfriend, so she reluctantly tags along.

The preacher speaks in vaguely religious language of an eccentric sort, frequently making reference to something called the All-Mother. What he really talks about, however, is the world's economic system, condemning wasteful practices such as pointless changes in car design, fads and fashions that come and go, planned obsolescence, and conspicuous consumption.

This is too much for the rich woman, so she heckles him. The preacher loses his temper and rants against makeup, fancy clothing, and elaborate hairdos. The next thing you know, the woman changes her ways, dressing simply and avoiding cosmetics. Not that she agrees with the guy, you understand; it's just that those things make her itch unbearably. Pretty soon the same thing happens to women all over the world, ushering in an era of down home, farm girl fashions.


Crisis in the radio studio!

The preacher winds up on the protagonist's radio show. Things get out of control, so the fellow goes into another tirade, this time against radio and, by extension, television.

The reader is way ahead of the characters by this point, so it's not a big surprise when all broadcasting goes haywire, forcing people to abandon their favorite forms of entertainment. With all those unemployed folks desperate for something to fill their hours, there's a sudden shortage of comic books and magazines. Bars and movie theaters are packed to overflowing. Even the preacher's revival meetings attract huge crowds, just because they have nothing else to do.


Would you buy a used car from this man?

Although not comic in tone, the novel has a strong satiric edge to it. The setting may be some years from now, but the author is really talking about today. The targets of his barbed examination of modern society are overproduction and excess consumption, as well as the seductive power of the electronic media.

The style is very readable, carrying you along as you follow the misadventures of the hapless hero. The preacher's astonishing ability to transform the world may not be particularly plausible, but once you swallow the premise the way it plays out is enjoyable.

Reynolds likes to play games with politics, and perform thought experiments with different economic systems, so I predict the second half of the novel will portray a new society, possibly a utopian one. We'll see if I'm right a couple of months from now.

Four stars.

Coming Out Party, by Robert Lory


Illustration by Norman Nodel

This brief tale begins with a young woman getting ready for the event mentioned in the title. Our first hint that something strange is going on is the fact that she's stark naked in front of her parents. The ceremony is also full of nude women. (Sorry, ladies, all the erotic content of this issue is obviously aimed at a male audience.)

I dare not say anything else about what happens, except to mention that the shock ending is an effective one. This is one of those stories that depends entirely on the twist in its tail. It succeeds at the modest goal it sets for itself.

Three stars.

The Shape of Us to Come, by Michael Girsdansky

Let's take a break from controversial topics of discussion and learn something about the way people might alter their bodies in the future. The author considers the fact that viruses inject their genetic information into the cells of other organisms, using the biological machinery of their hosts to reproduce themselves. The article speculates about the possibility of harnessing this ability to alter the genetics of humans in desirable ways.

Using this technique to treat diseases such as cancer seems reasonably plausible. The suggestion that the body might be changed in radical ways, to ensure survival on alien worlds, is a little less so. In any case, it's an interesting subject, and I learned something about viruses.

Three stars.

World of the Spectrum, by Emil Petaja


Illustrations by John Giunta

Take a look at that picture. We've got a muscular hero with a bladed weapon and a big, ugly monster. Am I reading the wrong magazine? Is this a sword-and-sorcery yarn, rescued from the yellowing pages of Weird Tales?

That's what it seems like at first, but we soon find out that this world of mighty barbarians fighting bizarre creatures exists for the amusement of the upper class on Earth, who vicariously experience the thrill of battle through a kind of telepathic sensory television.

The hero is in mental communication with a woman he thinks of as a princess in a castle located at the top of a cliff that nobody can climb. Naturally, he overcomes impossible odds and reaches the place, only to discover that things are not what they seem.


Don't look down!

The woman is actually a member of the upper class, who secretly belongs to a group of folks working to overthrow their repressive society. She uses a teleportation device to bring the man to Earth, teaching him about the place and enlisting him in her struggle. After many adventures, she confronts the ruler of the world, who turns out to be truly grotesque.


The heroine is shocked by what she sees.

Despite the science fiction explanation for everything, the story feels more like a fantasy adventure. The ruler of Earth might as well be another hideous monster for the hero to destroy. At first, the woman seems to be nothing more than a sexually provocative nitwit, but this is only a role she plays in order to further her plans. The main flaw is the need for a lot of expository dialogue to explain the complex background, with people telling each other things they should already know.

Three stars.

Lunar Weapons Tomorrow, by Joseph Wesley

Before we move on to sex, let's talk about something much less shocking, like war. (There's something wrong with that sentence, but I'll think about it later.)

The author starts this piece about military use of the Moon by dismissing the idea that it could be used to launch missiles at an enemy on Earth. He points out that this method is more difficult, more expensive, less effective, and less defensible than other ways of destroying the planet. Somehow I'm not reassured.

He goes on to imagine lunar military installations, assuming that these will be common in about twenty years or so. His prediction is that these will engage in a kind of lukewarm war, neither one completely destroying the other lest it be wiped out as well. Instead, the opposing forces make relatively minor forays against each other, fighting for territory in a futuristic version of the trench warfare of World War One.

The dry and rather frightening subject of this article is made more readable through the use of a fictional soldier on the Moon. We follow him as he watches for an enemy advance, and even engages in hand-to-hand combat, of a sort, in a spacesuit.

Three stars.

A Glass of Mars, by Robert F. Young


Illustrations by Gray Morrow

The version of the Red Planet depicted in this story is closer to the imaginings of Ray Bradbury than what most scientists believe. Maybe the Mariner 4 spacecraft, now on its way to Mars, will tell us who's right. Anyway, the plot takes place at least a full generation after people colonized the planet, building on the ancient ruins of the long-vanished Martians.

The main character is a new arrival, with romantic ideas about the distant past. In sharp contrast, his secretary, born on Mars, is all about the present. Like other women native to the planet, she is sexually assertive, openly boasting about her measurements, calling herself a sex machine, and offering to sleep with her boss (with the assumption that they will be married soon after.)

While commuting across the surface of Mars, the fellow is miraculously transported to the past. He meets a Martian woman, as delicately beautiful and demure as he imagined.

(In just about all ways except language, the Martian is completely human. We're told, more than once, that she has hyacinth hair. This rather obscure metaphor is taken from Edgar Allan Poe's ode To Helen, and it's not much clearer in the original. The allusion seems designed to suggest the man's dreamy vision of the ancient Martian woman, as romantic as Poe's poem.)


The ancient Martian and the modern human. Gentlemen, which one would you pick?

Without giving too much away, let's just say that the man's assumptions aren't completely accurate. I expected this to be a simple fable about the superiority of the past over the vulgarity of the present, but it's a little more complex than that. The author, no stranger to sentimental love stories and idealization of women, almost seems to be chiding himself for his romantic tendencies. The plot is pure fantasy, of course, but if you can get past that, it's worth a look.

Three stars.

Shall We Talk About It?

Overall, this was a pretty decent issue. Nothing was less than average, and the serialized novel was a high point. Maybe I'm just in a good mood. In any case, I would caution you to make sure that you discuss the themes raised in the magazine only under the right circumstances. Remember what Mom told you!


She didn't mention money or sex. Two out of four ain't bad.





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Magazine, Serial

[May 12, 1965] Da Capo (June 1965 Amazing)

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by John Boston

Changing of the Guard

So here we are at the end of the Ziff-Davis Amazing and the editorship of Cele Lalli.  What’s next?  The magazine doesn’t say.  “Coming Next Month” is conspicuous by its absence, as are interior illustrations.  But the story is being told elsewhere.  The banner headline on Science Fiction Times for last month—if “banner” is the word for large crude mimeographed lettering—says “ ‘AMAZING’ AND ‘FANTASTIC’ GO BI-MONTHLY & ADD 32 PAGES,” just above “DON FORD IS DEAD!”

The first post-Z-D issue will be the August Amazing, and thereafter the magazines will be published in alternate months as the new owner and editor try to build circulation, by leaving each issue on sale for a longer time, in preparation for a return to monthly publication.  The new publisher, as previously disclosed, will be Sol Cohen, and now it is announced that the managing editor—presumably, the guy who picks the stories—will be Joseph Ross, actual name Joseph Wrzos, but he is showing mercy to native English spellers.

Part of the plan for the new Amazing (and the new Fantastic too) is to use reprints as part of the contents, along with the original illustrations, a policy the SF Times describes as a “well-liked” recent feature of the Ziff-Davis Amazing.  Well-liked by some, no doubt, but most of the stories seemed to me to have only historical interest. 

Worse, even partial reliance on reprints from Amazing is a bad bet at least for any long term, since Amazing has been pretty mediocre through most of its history.  During the 1930s it fell progressively further behind the limited competition of the day, both in circulation and in interest, and then was purchased by Ziff-Davis and put in the charge of the notorious Ray Palmer, whose instruction to writers is said to have been “Gimme bang-bang.” From 1938 to 1949 Palmer filled the magazine with formulaic and juvenile adventure fiction, much of it produced by a coterie of local Chicago writers who mostly published little or nothing elsewhere, with much of their output in Amazing appearing under “house names” (pseudonyms maintained by the publisher for work by multiple writers).

The magazine enjoyed a brief renaissance (well, maybe a nascence) starting in 1953 when it switched from pulp to digest size and, more importantly, raised its pay rates, attracting bigger names and better material.  But it didn’t last; the rates were cut, and the magazine reverted by late 1954 to calculated mediocrity: mostly formulaic contents written by a new stable of regulars, though they kept some of the old house names, such as the durable Alexander Blade, a byline that flourished from 1940 to 1958.  Little improvement was visible until about 1959, when new editor Cele Goldsmith began her salvage operation.

So the past of Amazing is a barrel whose bottom will be scraped quickly, full of fish mostly not worth shooting.  One hopes for something more forward-looking as well from the new regime.

The Issue at Hand


by Gray Morrow

This final Ziff-Davis issue exemplifies the decidedly mixed bag of the Cele Goldsmith/Lalli regime: a potboiler of a serial from a prominent writer, an exercise in the higher self-parody by one of her best-known discoveries, a brief inconsequential story by a completely unknown new writer . . . the inescapable nemesis Robert F. Young . . . and David R. Bunch, the writer the readers loved to hate.  Not only is his story flagged and illustrated on the cover, but Bunch is also profiled and quoted extensively in the final editorial.  (Usually they’re by Lobsenz, but this one isn’t signed.  Lalli, maybe, at last?) This celebration of Bunch might be viewed as a final gesture of defiance from the editorial team, especially given the cover illustration of a robot waving two sledge hammers in fury.  But . . . probably not.  After all, Lalli is sticking around Ziff-Davis to edit Modern Bride.

The Corridors of Time (Part 2 of 2), by Poul Anderson

The largest fiction item is the conclusion of Poul Anderson’s perfectly adequate but neither inspired nor inspiring serial The Corridors of Time, the title of which is unfortunately literal.  Our hero Lockridge has been hired by the beautiful, enigmatic, and imperious Storm Dalloway to help her find some buried treasure in Jutland, but what she’s really about is a time war.  Turns out there are two contending factions, the Wardens and the Rangers, the former (Storm’s side) supporting a relaxed social philosophy consonant with matriarchal religion and traditional knowledge, the latter supporting a more regimented view consonant with science and patriarchal religion (to oversimplify grossly—and it is a bit of a set-up on Anderson’s part). 

So how does this time war work?  Well, there’s the rub, or lack of one.  Unlike its predecessors—Leiber’s Change War series, Jack Williamson’s The Legion of Time, Anderson’s own Time Patrol stories—in this one, you can’t change history.  So . . . what’s the point?  Well, as the synopsis (presumably written by Anderson) puts it, an agent can “become part of it, setting the mark of his own civilization on a culture and thus building up reserves for a final showdown.” That’s not changing history?  Maybe just a little?

This makes no sense at all, and undermines the story.  The time travel mechanism doesn’t help either.  The Corridors of Time are just that, long corridors buried in the earth at various places, with access to various times over spans of a few thousand years; just walk or ride down the corridor, and you go 35 days per foot, and you take the exit you want for the time you want, and also you can have chases and shootouts up and down the corridor, as happens within the first few pages.  As icons of the imagination go, this is pretty unimaginative.

On the plus side, Anderson gets to chase his characters around various historical eras, which Anderson seems to know well and in most cases to prefer to the present, and Lockridge reluctantly finds himself with an appealing Neolithic girlfriend (setting up an . . . unusual . . . triangle with Miss Dalloway), and ultimately Lockridge decides not to go back to the Twentieth Century, in a final affirmation of the barbarian virtues.  Overall, perfectly readable product, but below standard for a writer who has done much better.  Three stars, barely.  There’s a note indicating an expanded version is to come from Doubleday later.

The Furies, by Roger Zelazny

Roger Zelazny’s novelet The Furies is ridiculous—purposefully so, it seems.  The author spends the first six pages in exposition, introducing us to Sandor Sandor, catastrophically disabled, but also a non-idiot savant with encyclopedic knowledge and memory of places all around the galaxy; Benedick Benedict, who upon shaking hands with another person, becomes privy to all that person’s most shameful secrets, which he proceeds to gossip about—and his talents extend to inanimate objects and animals; Lynx Links, who “looked like a beachball with a beard” but by calling is the galaxy’s most accomplished assassin; and (former) Captain Victor Corgo, “the man without a heart” (literally, replaced by a machine), formerly “a terror to brigands and ugly aliens, a threat to Code-breakers, and a thorn in the sides of evil-doers everywhere,” but now gone wrong.

The first three of these are the Furies, so-called by the author after the ancient Greeks’ “chthonic goddesses of vengeance” (says the Britannica), here retained by the authorities to chase down Corgo, a sort of Captain Nemo figure who has turned against humanity based on outrages we need not recount.  The story is rendered throughout in extravagant language and stylized dialogue.  A mid-range sample of the former:

“One time the Wallaby [Corgo’s spaceship] was a proud Guardship, an ebony toadstool studded with the jewel-like warts of fast-phase projectors.  One time the Wallaby skipped proud about the frontier worlds of Interstel, meting out the unique justice of the Uniform Galactic Code—in those places where there was no other law.  One time the proud Wallaby, under the command of Captain Victor Corgo of the Guard, had ranged deep space and time and become a legend under legendary skies.”

So what we have here is midway between a technical exercise and a barroom bet.  Zelazny has taken about the most hackneyed materials available and tried to render them publishable by pure force of his considerable writing skill, no doubt enhanced by his theatrical background, and he has succeeded.  That is, he has dazzled enough rubes to get this into print, and has considerably amused me.  If the young Shakespeare had started out in comic books (the names and talents of the Furies certainly suggest comic-book superheroes), the result might have been similar.  Four stars, but watch it, guy: you can’t get away with this more than once.  Or can you?

The Walking Talking I-Don't-Care Man, by David R. Bunch

As for Bunch (and speaking of extravagant language) the latest Moderan tale The Walking Talking I-Don’t-Care Man is made of that, though it’s more straightforward and lucid than some of its predecessors.  The titular Man has had himself entirely replaced with metal, unlike Bunch’s protagonist in his Stronghold who still hangs on to his flesh-strips.  The Man purports to have resolved the great philosophical dilemma of human existence by giving up humanity . . . but he still wouldn’t mind finding God and going after it with his sledge hammers. 

One could conclude that this meditation, or harangue, on last things might be the end of the Moderan series . . . except the point seems to be that last things really aren’t last.  But hey, four stars, at least in the spirit of “best of breed,” which I’d say this is for Bunch.  Note to future bibliographers: the commas in the title on the cover do not appear inside the magazine.

Rumpelstiltskinski, by Robert F. Young

And now comes the inexorable reckoning: Robert F. Young, square athwart the road, and no shoulder to slip by on.  First the bad news: Rumplestiltskinski is another of Young’s affected fairy tale rehashes, beginning “Once there was a miller who was car-poor but who had a luscious dish of a daughter named Ada.” The good news: it’s quite short and ostentatiously pointless, a sort of shaggy fairy story, perhaps signifying that Young is getting tired of himself.  Let me encourage him in that.  One star.

Satyr, by Judith E. Schrier

Finally, and almost imperceptibly, we have Satyr, a (very) short story by Judith E. Schrier.  Who?  Precisely—no one else has heard of her either, at least according to the available indexes.  An unmarried older woman works the night shift as a computer operator and the computer professes its love, she realizes how masculine it is, etc. etc. to the obvious end. Slickly written, at least.  Two stars, barely.

Lo! The Poor Forteans, by Sam Moskowitz

Sam Moskowitz plays out his season (rumor having it that he won’t be part of the new Amazing) with Lo! The Poor Forteans, a moderately interesting biographical sketch of Charles Fort and history of the Fortean movement, such as it is or was.  There is also some rambling and mostly perfunctory discussion of the Fortean influence in science fiction, much of which we know about because the authors (like Edmond Hamiliton and Eric Frank Russell) have commented on it, but much of which is questionable (The Children’s Hour by Lawrence O’Donnell a/k/a C.L. Moore?  I doubt it).  Moskowitz has also omitted some other fairly obvious candidates like Heinlein’s The Puppet Masters.  Moskowitz also tediously belabors his own disdain for Forteanism.  But still, three stars, chiefly for the history and not the commentary.

Summing Up

The Ziff-Davis Amazing under Lalli was always full of promise but never managed to deliver on it for more than a month or two at a time.  It winds down on a respectable note, with above-average stories from two of its most characteristic authors, plus a competent middle-of-the-road serial.  Quo nunc vadis Amazing?

Speaking of changed circumstances at publishing houses, please read this — it's important!




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