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[January 12, 1965] Last Minute Reprieve (the February 1965 Amazing)

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by John Boston

The Issue at Hand


Paula McLane

Well, what have we here?  A pretty decent issue of Amazing, not a common occasion at all, with some good and/or interesting material, one disappointing item by a big-name author, but no offenses against reason and decency!  Let us count our blessings, and proceed directly to their dissection.

He Who Shapes, by Roger Zelazny


George Schelling

Roger Zelazny’s two-part serial He Who Shapes concludes in this issue, and is the most pleasant surprise here: a capable writer taking on a substantial task and working hard to do a good job of it.  It features a psychiatrist specializing in neuroparticipation therapy: he projects hyper-realistic dreams into his patients’ minds and then stars in them, directing the action to the therapeutic end of his choice.  This is Render, the Shaper—a hokey note, but not misplaced, given the oratorical level of the whole. 

Neuroparticipation is a powerful tool, but sometimes double-edged: the therapist can lose control of the action and wind up in the patient’s movie, not his own.  Render is someone whose roots in his own reality are a little tenuous, by at least unconscious design: after the death of his wife, he maintains a determinedly superficial relationship with his mistress (sic) Jill, and a parental relationship with his son that is ostentatiously concerned (e.g., he changes the son’s school repeatedly) but seems emotionally arms-length.

So when another psychiatrist, brilliant, female, blind since birth, and of course also beautiful, asks Render to instruct her via neuroparticipation in visual imagery so she too can become a neuroparticipation therapist, the sophisticated reader can only think “Uh-oh.” I won’t go further; this is one that deserves to be read.  Not that it’s perfect by any means; unlike almost everything else in sight, it seems too short, and the end in particular seems rushed and underdeveloped.  But it’s a welcome sign both for the magazine and for the author, who seems to have moved from the “promising” column to the “delivering” one.  A strong four stars.

Far Reach to Cygnus, by Fritz Leiber

Fritz Leiber’s Far Reach to Cygnus, a sequel of sorts to The Goggles of Dr. Dragonet from Fantastic of a few years ago, is labelled a short story but at 23 pages is as long as many novelets in this magazine.  It’s a rambling, low-intensity sort of thing, agreeable enough while reading, but it compares badly to Leiber’s tighter and sharper pieces like Mariana (Fantastic, 1960), A Deskful of Girls (F&SF, 1958), or for that matter the short novel The Big Time (Galaxy, 1958). 

Here’s another psychological theme, of sorts.  To open, our first-person narrator is racing eagerly to Dr. Dragonet’s redoubt in the Santa Monica Mountains, lured by Dragonet’s promise of “a drug that is to mescalin and LSD as they are to weak coffee.” Upon arrival there is some byplay involving the police, a beautiful young woman, and a possibly illusory black leopard.

Our hero then enters a sort of seance featuring another beautiful young woman, recumbent in a long white dress, and already drugged, describing a scene on an extraterrestrial planet featuring blue grass and inhabited by elvish blue people who ride unicorns.  Also present are a Professor, a Father, a Sister, “a handsome crophaired sun-tanned suavely muscled” young Hollywood man in all-white garb, who is “the newest and most successful Brando-surrogate and homegrown Mastroianni” of the media, and of course Dr. Dragonet.

The drug, or “psionic elixir,” is brought in by a third beautiful young woman (now we have a brunette, a blonde, and a redhead, all of them Dr. Dragonet’s nieces, if I am keeping score correctly).  But first, several pages of debate about the mind-body problem!  Finally, sixteen pages in, the characters start to take the drug, one by one, leading into several pages of drug effects, not badly done—the drug, as advertised, is psionic, so each character is seeing through the eyes of all of them.

And of course the drug effects become very palpable and menacing (mind-manifesting rather concretely, one might say) and are banished, and the Brando-surrogate, who it turned out was pretty dangerous, is psychically neutralized, and the white-garbed sort-of-medium recites some appalling developments on the blue planet (invaders with flamethrowers), and the police show up again briefly and comically, and much is made throughout about how fetching the young women are and how aroused and frustrated the narrator is (cheesecake without pictures, one might say). 

But all of these (slowly) moving parts don’t really add up to much (the police and blue planet subplots in particular go nowhere), and certainly don’t disguise the fact that the story is no more than a facile pot-boiler with some trendy furnishings.  Two stars.

The Answerer, by Bill Casey

New writer Bill Casey contributes The Answerer, the sort of story that might have appeared in Unknown in the early ‘40s—a fantastic premise developed like SF—except that editor Campbell wouldn’t have dared publish it.  Suddenly, prayers are being answered.  Everybody’s prayers.  So what happens?  As one of the characters puts it: “There can be nothing more dangerous than a personal god who actively interferes in the lives of men.” Hint: what if a lot of mental patients started praying?  It’s not the vignette one might expect to see on this theme, but an actual story, with a suitably sardonic ending.  Four stars.

Reunion, by David R. Bunch

David R. Bunch, who mostly hangs out in Fantastic these days, has his first appearance here in almost two years.  His short story Reunion is more lucid and less precious than his usual.  The language is also more straightforward though the preoccupation remains the same: the lives of humans whose bodies have been largely replaced with machinery (“new-metal” held together with “flesh-strips”; I think “cyborg” is becoming the fashionable term).  The unnamed protagonist is visited in his Stronghold by his twin brother, who “went with the big Paper Shield” (i.e., became a minister) rather than the metal one.  Protagonist is much troubled about their relationship and the prospect of meeting again, and considers shooting him, but in the end puts on the dog for him, mechanically speaking.  A moment of epiphany follows, but once the brother leaves—back to business as usual, war with the neighbors.  Three stars.

The Gobbitch Men, by Alfred Grossman


George Schelling

There’s a different flavor of the surreal in The Gobbitch Men by Alfred Grossman, who we are assured is “a novelist of some repute” responsible for Acrobat Admits and Many Slippery Errors, which I haven’t read, but which I gather could be described as black humor with anarchist tendencies.  So what’s he doing in Amazing?  I think writers use the term “salvage market.”

Grossman’s protagonist Irving is an ineffectual, incipiently alcoholic graduate student of the future, working on his thesis on the unbearably tedious, advisor-dictated subject of popular music of the late twentieth century, when he is delivered by mistake some spools titled Population and Catastrophe and the like.  He asks questions, learns how things really are in his world, is warned that he should keep on the straight and narrow or else, but the or else is imminent anyway.  Oh, the title?  The gobbitch men make a big racket with the cans, but that’s to cover their more sinister covert errand, which has suddenly become highly relevant to Irving.

This one is an interesting try, a heavy-handed dystopian satire in the mode of early Galaxy, cartoony and overdone, but still quite well written, as befits “a novelist of some repute.” Three stars, and I wouldn’t mind seeing Mr. Grossman slumming here again.

S. Fowler Wright: SF’s Devil’s Disciple, by Sam Moskowitz

Sam Moskowitz soldiers on with the SF Profile series, this time with a less familar and more interesting subject than usual: S. Fowler Wright: SF’s Devil’s Disciple.  Wright is a particularly good subject for Moskowitz, who prefers writing about work of the ‘30s and ‘40s, since almost all of Wright’s SF work was published then or even earlier.  The best-known of his novels include The Amphibians (1924), The Island of Captain Sparrow (1928), Deluge (1928), Dawn (1929), The World Below (1929), Dream, or The Simian Maid (1931), The Adventure of Wyndham Smith (1938), and Spiders’ War (1954).

Titles to conjure with!  But not much else, since as far as I can tell, Wright’s SF is entirely out of print, at least in the US—suffering the fate of his ideas.  Wright, who is still around, 91 next month, is distinguished by his opposition to scientific progress generally and birth control in particular (no hypocrite he—he has ten children), and much of his work is dedicated to extolling the virtues of noble savagery.  Moskowitz’s denunciation of these views helps make this article rather livelier than many of its predecessors, and the unfamiliarity of his work lends it considerable interest.  Four stars.

Summing Up

So—not a bad issue of Amazing, something one doesn’t see more than once or twice a year.  There’s even a sort of unifying theme, psychology, if you count the ostentatiously neurotic protagonist of The Gobbitch Men.  Can Amazing do it again?  Maybe even make it a trend?  The public breathlessly awaits.

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




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Magazine, Serial

[December 31, 1964] Lost in the Desert (January 1965 Analog)

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[Today is your last chance to get your Worldcon membership! Register here to be able to vote for the Hugos.]


by Gideon Marcus

Wandering

Setting: The Sinai, after the Exodus

Aaron: Hey, Moses! We've been walking a long time!

Moses: Nu?

Aaron: Haven't we seen that rock before? Are you sure you know the way to the Holy Land?

Moses: Who's the Moses here? I know the way to go. The Sinai is only 150 miles across. It'll only take us…

Narrator: FORTY YEARS!

I cite this absolutely accurate historical vignette for two reasons. One, my daughter has decided to give the Torah a deep dive and analysis over Winter (I believe the gentiles call it "Christmas") Break. The other is, well, the next installment of Frank Herbert's Dune World saga has been staring me in the face for weeks, ever since I bought the January 1965 issue of Analog. I found I really didn't want to read more of it, having found the first installment dreary, though who am I to argue with all the Hugo voters?

And yet, as the days rolled on, I came up with every excuse not to read the magazine. I cleaned the house, stem to stern. I lost myself in this year's Galactic Stars article. I did some deep research on 1964's space probes.

But the bleak desert sands of Arrakis were unavoidable. So this week, I plunged headfirst into Campbell's slick, hoping to make the trek to the end in fewer than two score years. Or at least before 1965. Join me; let's see if we can make it.

The Issue at Hand


by John Schoenherr

It's Done with Mirrors, by Ben Bova and William F. Dawson

Our first step into the desert is deceptively mild. Amazing's science guy and his friend offer up the suggestion that the universe really isn't so big — all the billions of galaxies we see are really the light from a few thousand going round and round a small universe.

It doesn't sound very plausible to me, but I enjoyed the cosmological review, and the picture included was drafted by my nephew's astronomy professor at UCLA!

Three stars.

The Prophet of Dune (Part 1 of 5), by Frank Herbert

And now we sink waist deep.

The Prophet of Dune is not just the sequel to Dune World; it picks up right at the cliffhanger where the other left off. Unlike most serials, but similar to how it was done with Cordwainer Smith's The Boy Who Bought Old Earth, the story begins without explanation. You simply have to have Dune World fresh in your mind.

Otherwise, you won't know why Paul Atreides and his mother, Lady Jessica, are refugees from Baron Harkonen in the deserts of Arrakis. You won't know who the Padisha Emperor is or why his Sardaukar elite forces are dressed in Harkonen House garb. You won't know who Duke Leto Atreides was, or why he's dead; who Yueh was and why he defected from House Atreides to the Harkonens; the significance of Hawat the mentat…or even what a mentat is. The significance of the melange spice, which is the desert planet's sole export.

I'm not sure why (editor) Campbell didn't include a summary at the beginning, but unless you've read Dune World, you will be lost.

If you have, you'll be bored.


by John Schoenherr

I won't go into great detail since this serial will cover a ridiculous five installments before it is done, but suffice it to say that includes all the features I came to dread in the first serial. That is to say:

  • Characters declaiming in exposition.
  • Endless fawning over wunderkind Paul Atreides, who has the gravitas of his father, the ability to see all futures, and no weaknesses (or character) that I can discern.
  • Every other line is an internal thought monologue, usually unnecessary, flitting from viewpoint to viewpoint according to author Herbert's fancy.
  • Lots of sand.

Dune presents an interesting, well-developed world populated by uninteresting plots and skeletal characters. And it looks like I'm suck in its deserts for at least another half year.

Two stars.

A Nice Day for Screaming, by James H. Schmitz


by Kelly Freas

A momentary respite as we trudge out of sand and onto more solid ground…

Schmitz shows us the maiden voyage of a new space vessel, jumping not into overspace but to the quantum beyond — Space Three! But upon its arrival, a terrifying entity appears and invades the ship, wreaking havoc with its systems.

The nature of the encounter is not what it seems. I like a story that turns a horror cliche on its head.

Three stars.

A Matter of Timing, by Hank Dempsey


by Robert Swanson

A tingling in our mind distract us, and suddenly we are again ankle deep in the dunes.

Until I read the byline (I've never heard of Dempsey), I thought A Matter of Timing was an inferior entry in Walter Bupp's psi series, in which a secret organization keeps a cadre of esper talents on hand to deal with weird events. While Dempsey's introduces a lot of potentially interesting characters (all apparently quacks; the organization that handles them is the Committee for Welfare, Administration, and Consumer Control — CWACC), the story doesn't do anything with them.

Droll setup and no resolution. Two stars.

Final Report, by Richard Grey Sipes

From out of nowhere, there is a blast of hot wind, and we are inundated with a spray of stinging sand and…paper?

Told in military report style, complete with typewriter font and army-esque jargon, Final Report pretends to be the results of the test of a psionic radio system. In the end, despite the set's fantastic capabilities, it is rejected as a prank, especially as it's too cheap to even be government pork.

Heavy handed, highly Campbellian, and utterly pointless. One star.

The New Boccaccio, by Christopher Anvil

As we reel from the last blow, the clackety clack of machinery assails our ears, but at least we're walking on stable rocks again.

In The New Boccaccio, Anvil covers the same ground as Harry Harrison did a couple of months ago in Portrait of the Artist — an automatic creator is brought into a publishing house to replace a human artist.

The prior story was serious and involved a comic maker. Anvil's is comedically satirical and involves a device that writes literate smut. It's a bit smarter, I think, but not worth more than the three stars I gave the other story.

Finnegan's Knack, by John T. Phillifent


by Kelly Freas

Look! Off in the distance…is that a line of trees? Or is it just a mirage? Our pace quickens, but our boots keep sinking in the shifting sands.

John Phillifent's Finnegan's Knack involves the arrival of an alien ambassador. His race is so far in advance of ours that there's nothing we can do to impress him. A demoralized Colonel joins his rather lackadaisical Major friend on a fishing expedition to relate his woes. Along with them is a certain Private Finnegan with a knack for accomplishing the darndest things (landing fish with a boat hook; making a hover car pop a wheelie; make a call to a private number). Maybe he can impress the aliens with his illogical prowess?

Maybe. Certainly nothing in the story made any particular impression on me, and as with so many of the other stories in the issue, the lack of a solid ending killed whatever competent writing came before.

Two stars. Oasis lost.

Does not Compute


"Rhoda" the robot…signed by Julie Newmar, herself!

How can it be that the one-proud magazine that Campbell built can pour forth little but a torrent of desert dust? All told, the magazine earns an dismally low 2.1 stars, This is significantly below the 2.5 star mags (Amazing) and (Fantasy and Science Fiction) and far below IF (2.9), Fantastic (3.3), and New Worlds (3.5).

Maybe SF is suffering in general, if this month's distribution is any indication. Certainly, it was a sad month for female representation (2 stories out of 37). On the other hand, it's not all bad news: you could fill three magazines with the superior stuff this month.

Every desert has an end, even if it's just the desert of the sea. Perhaps, if we keep trekking, we'll find out way back to verdant lands.

You know — after four more months of this fershlugginer Dune installment…

Happy New Year anyway! Thank you for following the Journey!




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Magazine, Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial, TV

[December 29, 1964] Be Ye All of Good Cheer… New Worlds, January 1965

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

I hope Christmas for you was a good one. Christmas was good to me in that I received a copy of Charles L. Harness’s The Paradox Men. So far I’m really enjoying it as an over the top Space Opera. Why has it taken so long to be published here in Britain, though?

More good cheer: this month’s New Worlds editorial begins with a loud “Hurrah!”, announcing that both New Worlds and Science Fantasy are to return to monthly publication in 1965.

This is wonderful news for both New Worlds and Science Fantasy. Clearly the increased readership has paid dividends on both counts. Let’s hope this continues. More on this particular issue later.

News-wise, politics has been on its Christmas break. So not a lot to particularly report there.

The contest for the Number 1 single slot is always competitive, but Brits have a particular obsession for the Christmas Number 1 single. This year that enviable position was held by (unsurprisingly) The Beatles with another catchy tune – I Feel Fine.

Music-wise, most of the year’s reviews seem to have focused on the global domination of our Fab Four as they travel the world, permanently surrounded by screaming teenagers. Not only having the British Christmas single, they will also be pleased to know that their single Can’t Buy Me Love, is the single to have spent longest as Number 1 for a majestic 3 weeks, back in March and April. More seriously, it really has been their year and I can see 1965 carrying on in much the same way.

At the cinema I am pleased to write that I enjoyed our Christmas movie,  Father Goose, starring Cary Grant. A rather comedic role with a feel-good family tone. It’s not Cary's best, but it was pleasant enough. And in the middle of Winter, pleasantly tropical.

But be warned – My Fair Lady is due at the end of January. I know that you’ve had to endure this film already in the US – all 170 minutes of it – and the reviews have been quite good, but I still haven’t managed to come up with an excuse of sufficient importance to avoid it. Can I claim that I’m much too busy reporting to you to go? I doubt it, sadly. I may have to bow to the inevitable.

On a more positive note, on the television I am enjoying the latest Doctor Who, which seems to be regaining its confidence after a couple of so-so episodes, and hopefully that upswing should continue in 1965. Jessica’s already mentioned this, but the latest Dalek episodes are in my opinion the most enjoyable series yet.

The Issue At Hand

cover by Robert J. Tilley

This month’s cover shows that, as hinted at last issue, circles are ‘in’.

Personally, I still yearn for art with some detail, but am resigned to the current vogue, whilst at least appreciating that, despite being crude and simple, it’s still not as bad as Carnell’s last issues.

The Editorial, as shown earlier, is pleasingly upbeat. It is akin to a state of the nation address, showing us where we are in the current state of things artistic and literary. There’s mention of a new critical magazine edited by Messrs Aldiss and Harrison, which sounds intriguing.

To the stories themselves.

The Power of Y (part 1), by Arthur Sellings

The triumphant tone hangs over to this first part of a serial by Arthur Sellings, who is highlighted in the Editorial for producing “stories of a consistently high standard since he began writing.” To me this does sound a little like faint praise, though I must admit that the serial is one of the most enjoyable I’ve read for a while. Max Afford is an art dealer in a world where Transdimensional Multiplying, or Plying, allows an object such as a painting or a car to be borrowed from multiple universes. You want the original Mona Lisa? You can borrow it and have it in your home, for a price.  There are limits, however. It is a very expensive process and an object can only be plied to a maximum of twenty copies. Plying living objects, such as a beloved pet, is seen as impossible.

This is an intriguing concept, but one that becomes more complicated when Max suddenly finds that he can tell the difference between plied objects and the original simply by touching them.  The story then ends on a cliff-hanger involving the President of the Federated States of Europe.

It’s all written in a deceptively chatty style that Heinlein is so good at, a combination of charming bonhomie and sly digs at both the establishment and the world of art – although Sellings is clearly an author the editor Mike Moorcock prefers. Nevertheless, it read well and was entertaining, and most of all I’m intrigued to see where this one goes. The most negative thing I could find about it was the awfully childish art throughout the prose! A great start. 4 out of 5.


Childish art? I rest my case, m'lud. But perhaps it's intentional irony in a story about art…

The Sailor in the Western Stars , by Bob Parkinson

A debut author. You can tell from the artwork at the beginning that this is a story retold as if it were ancient myth, a folk-tale rather like a science-fictional Arabian Nights. I liked the romantic tone of this, that the main character is some sort of wandering pirate-trader destined to sail across space. It’s similar to Bertram Chandler’s Rim stories or even Poul Anderson’s David Falkayn /Star Trader stories, but deliberately more lyrical and enigmatic. Behind the poetic sheen there’s not a lot going on, admittedly, but I remembered it more than many stories. File under “Interesting”. It’s nicely done, but fairly inconsequential. 4 out of 5.

Tunnel of Love, by Joseph Green

And here’s the return of Moorcock’s friend, Joseph Green, after Single Combat in the July-August 1964 issue. The title suggests a cheap fairground ride, but it is actually an ethnologic study with a creepy twist. Two young graduates, realising a way to make money, attempt to make a movie on Procyon Nine, a planet known for its beautiful people but whose strict moral code is that visitors do not seduce them. The twist is that the would-be suitors of the girls have, as a rite of passage, to crawl through an interdimensional portal that connects Procyon Nine to the nuptial bed! This is not quite as outré as it sounds and there’s a big old twist at the end. I found it better than I thought it was going to be, an adventure story that also made me think of it as a raunchier take on Chad Oliver’s themes. 3 out of 5.

There’s A Starman in Ward 7, by David Rome

And now something a bit darker. Very pleased to see the return of this writer, last seen in the August 1963 of New Worlds. As far as the New Wave type stories go, this is actually one I liked.

It is the story of a psychotic murderer who is locked up in an insane asylum and who claims to have been in a ward with a new inmate – a Starman from Alpha Centauri. It’s written in a deliberately disjointed and irrational manner and is filled with those stylistic typing patterns and fragmented streams of consciousness that you may remember in Alfred Bester’s work. It is something that the New Wavers should love – and for a change, I also liked. Unlike most stories that try this technique I found that David’s story doesn’t lose its purpose or its narrative thread along the way.  4 out of 5.

Election Campaign, by Thom Keyes

Oh-oh. Here’s the return of Thom Keyes, whose last story, Period of Gestation, was in the September – October 1964 issue of Science Fantasy.  I really didn’t like it. But actually, Election Campaign is a more straightforward tale than I thought it was going to be. General Aldheyer is sent on a mission to secure the votes for the General Dynamics Party of an obscure and out of the way colony. Unfortunately, the brain-in-a-box space pilot malfunctions on the way and the only solution is to create a replacement pilot. Consequently, Aldheyer’s brain is transplanted into the ship.  There’s a lengthy description of the surgical process and the story ends with the spaceship’s arrival on the planet to begin its electoral campaign.

After our recent change of government, this story is perhaps surprisingly topical. Some politicians will do almost anything for power! I must admit that this was more enjoyable than Keyes’ last story, but the purpose of it seems a little pointless, other than to make the reader question what makes a machine human and vice versa. Anne McCaffrey’s done all this before, of course.  3 out of 5.

Space Drive, by Gordon Walters

We then get a lengthy chunk of the magazine concerned with reviews and non-fiction. Gordon Walters is a writer new to me, although you may know him better as George Locke.  This is an article that discusses the different means of travelling around science-fictional space that have been used by authors in the past. It’s a nice discussion that sums up concepts from a range of books and authors.

Books: Fancy and Imagination, by Michael Moorcock, James Colvin and Langdon Jones

As expected from previous comments there’s reviews of Charles L. Harness’s The Paradox Men and Brian Aldiss’s Greybeard. Michael Moorcock likes both.

The bulk of the reviews from Colvin (aka Moorcock, of course!) and Langdon Jones pick up a rag-bag of books. Honorary mentions go to Andre Norton’s Judgement on Janus, which is OK, James Blish’s A Life for the Stars, which is ‘better’ and Alan E. Nourse’s Scavengers in Space (good for children.) On the other hand, Poul Anderson’s Time and Stars and Damon Knight’s Beyond the Barrier both get a mauling. The second New Writings in SF anthology is ‘disappointing’, which probably means that I will like it.  The Best from F & SF is above average yet summarised as overpraised, but A Decade of Fantasy and Science Fiction, with stories from the magazine originally published between 1949-59, is 'excellent'.

There’s also the usual endorsement of J G Ballard, this time for the US publication of The Burning World, and praise for Anthony Burgess’s 'powerful and horrifying' A Clockwork Orange, which is one of the most unusual books I’ve recently come across.

Langdon Jones then positively reviews Arthur Sellings’ The Uncensored Man and C. M. Kornbluth’s The Syndic.

The Letters pages show that I Remember, Anita, published in the September-October 1964 issue, seems to have generated some controversy. There’s also a letter complaining about the return of illustrations, which shows that people are never satisfied.

Summing up

It may be the season, but I’m pleased to say that this issue of New Worlds was one I enjoyed more than I didn’t. I enjoyed the range of stories, but most of all I liked the actual stories, which were not anything particularly radical yet made me feel like it was worthwhile paying my money to read them. Last month I said that I was enjoying Science Fantasy more. If this is New Worlds’s response, then the differences between the two magazines might not be as much as I had thought. Science Fantasy may have a fight on its hands for my attention!

And with this in mind, next month I should have two magazines to review – New Worlds and Science Fantasy! It’ll be interesting to see which one turns up first.

All the very best to you and yours for 1965.

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

mall>

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Book, Magazine, Serial

[December 23, 1964] Odds and Ends (January 1965 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

A Hodgepodge of Happenings

It's the season for clearing out all that stuff you've got piling up in the closet, ready to greet the new year with a fresh start. With that in mind, and given the fact that no one news item dominated the headlines this month, allow me to throw out a few observations about what's been going on lately.

Italy joined the Space Age this month, with the launching of that nation's first satellite, as recently discussed in great detail by our own Kaye Dee.  Named the San Marco, the spacecraft rode on top of an American Scout rocket from the Wallops Flight Facility in Virginia. Although this is primarily just a test flight, the satellite does carry a couple of instruments designed to study the ionosphere.


The San Marco is the striped, spherical object, shown here being loaded into the Scout rocket. It seems fitting that an object intended to soar into the heavens is named after a saint.

After months of surprisingly passionate debate over its design, a new flag will now symbolize the nation of Canada. Some English-speaking Canadians wanted to retain the Union Jack found in the old, unofficial flag, while many French-speaking Canadians objected. The current flag looks like a good compromise.


The old design, known as the Red Ensign. Besides everything else, it just looks messy.


The new design, which seems much more aesthetically pleasing to me.

The late Ian Fleming's master spy continues to draw moviegoers to the box office like flies to honey, as his latest cinematic adventure arrived in the USA this month.


I think that woman in the middle has been sunbathing too long.

A Miscellany of Music

Unlike some months earlier this year, December offered no overwhelmingly popular song at the top of the American charts. There were no less than four hits that reached Number One this month, and maybe we'll even hear from a fifth contender before 1965 arrives.

Spilling over from late November was Leader of the Pack by the girl group the Shangri-Las. I can't decide if this tragic tale of a romance ended by a fatal motorcycle accident is an example of a Teenage Death Song, or a tongue-in-cheek spoof of that macabre little genre.


These smiling ladies aren't saying one way or the other.

It would be hard to find a starker contrast with that bit of feminine adolescent angst than Lorne Greene's rendition of the cowboy saga Ringo. Obviously, the record is cashing in on the popularity of his hit television series Bonanza. Greene doesn't really sing so much as narrate this tale of the final confrontation between an outlaw and a lawman.


I wonder how many young people think this song is about the drummer for the Beatles.

It wasn't much later that Greene was outgunned by crooner Bobby Vinton, returning to the top of the charts with the tearjerking ballad Mr. Lonely.


The singer kindly provides the address of his official fan club right on the record sleeve.

Not to be outdone, the Supremes gave us their third smash Motown hit with the catchy little number Come See About Me.


And they're classy dressers, too.

A Smorgasbord of Stories

In a similarly generous fashion, the latest issue of Fantastic supplies a wide variety of short stories, as well as the first half of a novel.


Cover art by Emsh

The Girl in the Gem, by John Jakes


Interior illustrations also by Emsh

Here's another swashbuckling adventure of the mighty barbarian Brak, whom we've met many times before.

In unheroic fashion, our protagonist is passed out drunk in a seaside inn. A bunch of dwarfs rush in, armed with knives, but deliberately avoid hurting him. It's all part of a plot to frame him for robbery. You see, an earthquake tumbled the old palace into the ocean. Another one raised it up again. Meanwhile, the local king is dying. His daughter blackmails Brak with the threat of death for thievery if he doesn't undertake the dangerous task of rescuing her sister, who was imprisoned in a gigantic jewel, from the recently revealed palace. Of course, this means he has to defeat a hideous creature.


The mandatory monster

The author writes vividly and definitely keeps the action moving. This is the shortest tale of Brak yet, and it's got plenty of plot for its length. The characters are standard for the sword-and-sorcery genre, and a few incidents seem arbitrary. (Why are the royal servants who invade the inn all dwarfs?) Despite a lack of originality in some aspects, it's worth reading.

Three stars.

Journal of a Leisured Man, by Bryce Walton


Illustration by George Schelling

In a technologically advanced future, an accountant loses his job to a computer. Like many other people, he is forced to remain unemployed for the rest of his life. To add to his troubles, his faithless wife leaves him for another man.

The company that formerly employed the fellow makes automatons, in the form of animals, children, and adults. We witness some gruesome ways customers use these simulacra. In what seems to be at first an act of kindness, an employee of the company offers the man a synthetic duplicate of his wife, to do with as he pleases. You may predict the twist ending.

Although there are few surprises, the story has a certain grim power. It's not always pleasant to read, but is likely to remain in the memory.

Three stars.

On the River, by Robert F. Young

A man finds himself on a raft, floating down a river by day, staying at deserted inns on shore by night. He meets a woman in the same situation, and romance blooms. It soon becomes obvious that both of them attempted suicide, and that the river leads to death.

(The idea of an afterlife on a world dominated by a river also appears in the most recent issue of Worlds of Tomorrow. Given the delays in the publishing industry between writing a story and seeing it in print, this must be nothing more than a coincidence.)

I'm a sucker for this author's bittersweet love stories, so I enjoyed this one quite a bit. The conclusion may be obvious, but any other ending would have been inappropriate for a writer who wears his heart on his sleeve.

Four stars.

The Repairmen of Cyclops (Part One of Two), by John Brunner


Illustrations by George Schelling

A little research reveals that this novel is set in the same universe as two previous works, each published as one-half of an Ace Double. The series as a whole deals with what are known as Zarathustra Refugee Planets. Many centuries ago, the star which the colony planet Zarathustra orbited went nova. The inhabitants, fleeing the disaster, wound up populating a large number of planets. The Galactic Corps watches over these worlds, making sure that outsiders don't interfere with their development, while refraining from becoming overly involved themselves.


Cover art by Emsh


Also by Emsh

In the style of Philip K. Dick, the author uses many different viewpoint characters, so it takes a while before the main thrust of the plot becomes clear. The story mostly takes place on Cyclops, a relatively poor planet, although there is a wealthy upper class. An agent of the Galactic Corps, who was, I believe, the protagonist of Secret Agent of Terra, reviewed by our own Rosemary Benton some time ago, arrives after twenty years of service. Her reward for two decades of unpleasant, thankless work is considerable. She will have her youth restored, and her life extended for two centuries.

The extremely advanced medical technology of the Galactic Corps is one reason why the ruler of the planet resents them. (Although the government of Cyclops is, in theory, representative, she wields the real power.) There is also the fact that many natives of Cyclops were killed by the inhabitants of another world when they tried to make slaves of them. (I think these events also appeared in Secret Agent of Terra. Castaways' World does not seem to be as closely related to this new novel.)

The ruler's lover is an ex-spaceman who lost a leg in an accident. Although it was replaced, he is no longer allowed to serve on spaceships. While hunting the gigantic shark-like creatures who live in the oceans of Cyclops, he loses the same leg. After a brief stay in the local Galactic Corps hospital, he is whisked back to the care of his lover and her doctor. This creates a mystery for the Galactic Corps; how was the man's leg replaced, given the limited medical technology of Cyclops, and how do they expect to do it again? The author soon reveals the answer in scenes that take place on another world, where a sinister conspiracy takes advantage of unsuspecting victims.

Although a bit melodramatic in parts, this is an intriguing novel, full of richly defined characters, many of whom I have not even mentioned.


I haven't talked about these people.


I also haven't brought up these folks.

The author balances scenes of violent action with necessary exposition. It's interesting to note that the characters who are, I assume, the main protagonist and the primary antagonist are both powerful women. The complex background is fully developed, without becoming overwhelming.

Four stars.

Make Mine Trees, by David R. Bunch

The magazine's most controversial writer returns with another dark and strange story. This one is more comprehensible than most, and the title definitely helps you understand what's going on. The narrator, who is clearly as mad as a hatter, used some kind of formula to change his wife and her lover into trees. Now his young son is undergoing the same transformation. Typical for the author, the plot is much less important than the eerie mood and the eccentric style.

Three stars.

Multiple Choice, by John Douglas

A trio of young men, who have undergone a series of tests to become part of the elite, wait in a room for their final examination. They hear gunshots and screams from outside. Each one has a different theory about what's happening. Is it a hoax, designed to test their nerves? Are those who fail the last exam shot to death? Is it even possible that everyone is killed? The story's ending is inconclusive, which may be the point. Many readers will find the lack of a full resolution frustrating.

Two stars.

Something For Everyone?

Although the overall mood of the issue is on the dark side, there are all kinds of imaginative fiction to be found between its covers. From a heroic fantasy set in a distant past that never existed, to an adventure in deep space in the far future, and from a romantic parable of love and death, to a cynical portrait of tomorrow's dystopian society, there is enough variety to please just about every reader of speculative literature. You won't enjoy every story, but I don't think you'll dislike all of them. (If you do, turn to Robert Silverberg's book review column for more recommendations.)


He mostly reviews anthologies and collections in this particular column, so you've got lots to choose from.

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Magazine

[December 15, 1964] Failed Flight of Fancy (January 1965 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Missing Something

Science fiction and fantasy are closely aligned genres.  Indeed, there is no hard line between them (like the continuum from sharks to rays) and one person's "soft" science fiction is another's fantasy.  Each of the monthly SFF mags has carved out its own turf in the spectrum between hardest SF and fluffiest fantasy. 

Analog has chosen the firmest of grounds, its stories highly scientific; even the recent Lord D'Arcy tales are a kind of highly rigorous fantasy.  Galaxy, IF, and Worlds of Tomorrow also hew solidly to "reality".  The magazines that trip more fantastic tend to indicate such in their titles: Fantastic, Science Fantasy, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.

The name of the last one belies the fact that precious little, if any, science fiction appears within its covers these days.  It didn't used to be so; during the Mills era, Naked to the Stars, and many other definitive science fiction works appeared.  But ever since Avram Davidson took over, and even though he has been gone two issues now, F&SF has been a horror/fantasy mag.

And this is a problem.  While SF is an ever-evolving genre, powered by new discoveries that unlock entire subgenres, fantasy is an unstructured, amorphous mass.  And horror is (at least for now) a pile of cliches.  Seen five Alfred Hitchcock Presents (the TV analog to F&SF) and you've seen them all.  You may enjoy those five very much, but after a season of them, you're through with the genre.

F&SF's all-starring January 1965 issue is chock full of stories that might have been passable, if lesser, tales back in 1949.  These days, they are frustratingly inadequate, especially given the new 50 cent price tag.

Exibit F (for Fantasy/Failure)


by Mel Hunter (depicting a landing on Neptune's moon, Triton — the closest this issue will get to SF)

End of the Line, by Chad Oliver

We start with an "after the Bomb" piece, which I guess qualifies it as a low form of SF.  However, its premise is sheer fantasy.  In brief, it is centuries down the line, and civilized humanity has lost the ability to breed.  The more comfortable we become, the lower our fertility, the sicklier are our children.  Only the ignorant savages outside the last City remain fecund.

One City-dweller is a throwback, leading raiding parties into savage lands to kidnap children to be raised back at home.  Whence come this spark of atavistic vigor?  Of course, it turns out he's a kidnapped savage.  And also that the primitives, themselves, are descendants of City-dwellers abandoned as children.  Because all it takes to regain the spark of life is utter deprivation.

It's a dumb story, and women are portrayed as neurotic wives and would-be wet nurses.

Two stars.

Dimensional Analysis and Mr. Fortescue, by Eric St. Clair

Margaret St. Clair (and as her alter ego, Idris Seabright) is one of the best known names in the genre.  Her husband, Eric, is an up-and-comer.  Unfortunately, his latest story, about a fellow who opens a funhouse but finds it was inadvertently equipped with an interdimensional rift, is a down-and-goer.  Just too broadly written and inconsequential; the kind of frothy stuff Davidson dug.  Meringue can be tasty, but you can't live on it.

Two stars.

Begin at the Beginning, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor's article is on calendar year system.  Entertainingly spun, and including a few tidbits I had not been hitherto aware of, it nevertheless is a history lesson rather than a scientific piece.  That's okay, as far as it goes, but it's much easier to present a non-technical piece for a layman than to explain an abstruse topic.

Three stars.

The Mysterious Milkman of Bishop Street, by Ward Moore

Turn-of-the-Century fellow engages a new milkman who promises to deliver his goods right to the doorstep rather than let it freeze on the street.  The product is superb, the service excellent — too excellent.  When it starts mysteriously appearing inside the house, the fellow decides he's had too much of a good thing and abandons his residence.

I liked that this story turns the "if it seems too good to be true" cliche on its head (there's never anything untoward about the milk; in fact, during the term of the milkman's engagement, life had been significantly better for the drinker).  However, it ends abruptly and with insufficient development.  It needed another sting for its tail.

Three stars.

Famous First Words, by Harry Harrison

Brilliant scientist devises a contraption to record the genesis of great inventions.  It's really just an excuse for a brace of ha-ha vignettes, which aren't very funny.

A disappointment, both given the author and the promising title (which is now useless).

Two stars.

The Biolaser, by Theodore L. Thomas

The Science Springboard is back, this time positing a time when laser scalpels are so thin, they can splice DNA like reel-to-reel tape.  Maybe it's possible? 

Three stars, I guess.

Those Who Can, Do, by Bob Kurosaka

An impudent college student interrupts his teacher's math lecture with a demonstration of magic.  The teacher responds in kind.

No really, that's it.

Two stars.

Wogglebeast, by Edgar Pangborn

Molly, a middle-aged woman with an inherited fancy for magical (if mythical) creatures, befriends a Wogglebeast when it emerges from a pot of chicken soup.  She keeps the odd animal, which is never really described until the end, as kind of a pet, kind of a good luck charm.  Fortune does seem to follow, and she even, at the age of 41, manages to become pregnant.  The story, however, has a sad ending.

A sentimental and well-written tale, it doesn't have much more than emotion going for it.  And I'm getting tired of women portrayed solely as mothers or wanting to be mothers.

Three stars.

Love Letter from Mars, by John Ciardi

Good meter on this poem, but after reading it five times, I've still no idea what the author is trying to communicate.

Two stars.

The House the Blakeneys Built, by Avram Davidson

Ugh.  Davidson.

Alright.  I won't leave it at that.  The Blakeneys are the descendants of a four-person crew stranded on a (entirely Earthlike, of course) planet hundreds of years ago.  Severe inbreeding has dulled their intelligence and bred in odd superstitions.  When a fresh foursome of shipwreckees arive, the results are not happy ones.

Another vaguely promising tale that comes to an unsurprising, uninspiring end.

Two stars.

Four Ghosts in Hamlet, by Fritz Leiber

Finally, we have the longest piece of the mag, about the goings on in a Shakespeare company which culminate in a seemingly spectral conclusion during the Ghost's appearance in Hamlet.

Leiber, of course, recounts from experience, being a prominent actor, himself.  But unlike the excellent No Great Magic, there is not a hint of fantasy or science fiction in this F&SF story.  And while I appreciated the 30 page, (deliberately) gossipy and meandering behind-the-scenes look at life in an acting company, that's not why I subscribed to this mag.

Three stars.

Back to Reality

What a disappointment that was!  If new editor Ferman can't find anyone to write proper SF, or even imaginative F for F&SF, he might as well change the magazine's masthead.  As is, it's false advertising.

Oh well.  There are plenty of interesting magazines and books next to it on this month's newsstand…

[Holiday season is upon us, and Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), on the other hand, contains some of the best science fiction of the Silver Age — many from F&SF's prouder days.  And it makes a great present!  A gift to friends, yourself…and to the Journey!]

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Magazine, Serial

[December 13, 1964] Save us from Yourselves (January 1965 Amazing)

5 Comments


by John Boston

That Low

The uproar at the University of California at Berkeley continues, with student leader Mario Savio becoming instantly famous for his cri de couer: “There's a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious—makes you so sick at heart—that you can't take part. You can't even passively take part. And you've got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels, upon the levers, upon all the apparatus, and you've got to make it stop. And you've got to indicate to the people who run it, to the people who own it that unless you're free, the machine will be prevented from working at all.”

Ever see that corny old silent movie Metropolis, with its oppressed workers desperately struggling against the gigantic levers of a future civilization’s industry?  Do you think Mr. Savio might have had those scenes in mind?  Is our culture now to be dominated by the imagery of old science fiction, recycled through late-night TV?  It can’t come soon enough for me.

The Issue at Hand


by Michael Arndt

Speaking of retrograde imagery, the January Amazing leads off with what seems a striking misjudgment.  Though it features the first installment of a serial by the up-and-coming Roger Zelazny, his longest work to date, the cover is a cartoony though well-executed depiction, by newcomer Michael Arndt, of an extraterrestrial boxer being knocked out of the ring, with a Damon Runyonesque audience looking on, clearly illustrating Blue Boy by the determinedly mediocre Jack Sharkey.  Zelazny’s story is relegated to smaller type above the magazine title, with his name hard to read against a bright background.  Amazing is clearly leading from the wrong side.  (Can’t anybody here play this game?)

He Who Shapes, by Roger Zelazny


by George Schelling

Promising as it seems, I will withhold reading and commenting on Zelazny’s serial He Who Shapes until the concluding installment is at hand, as is my practice.  A look at the first few pages indicates that the story involves psychiatric treatment by mental projection—not exactly a new idea (see Peter Phillips’s Dreams Are Sacred from 1948 and John Brunner’s more recent The Whole Man), but not overly familiar either.  Zelazny also seems to be making the most of his theatrical background in this one.  We will see the results next month.

Blue Boy, by Jack Sharkey

Blue Boy is even worse than I expected.  The protagonist, formerly involved in the boxing world, has been drafted, and is sent with a large crew on a mission to Pluto, where they encounter blue-skinned humanoids, whom they clap into the brig, and hastily head back towards Earth.  The Plutonians are quite muscular and have a knack for footwork, so our protagonist gets the idea of sneaking onto Earth with one and turning him into a boxer. 


by Michael Arndt

That’s about as far as I got (halfway) in this offensively stupid and also interminable screed (34 pages but seems like much more), which is written, and padded, in a stilted and circumlocutory style which seems pretty clearly intended as a pastiche of the above-mentioned Damon Runyon.  “Why?” one might cry, but the wind only whispers . . . “one cent a word.” One star.  No stars.  Heat death of the universe.  Cessation of all brain activity.  Bring back Robert F. Young!

A Child of Mind, by Norman Spinrad


by Virgil Finlay

We return at least to the semblance of sentience with Norman Spinrad’s A Child of Mind, a clever variation on a stock SF plot.  Three guys from Survey land on a planet which seems idyllic, but of course there’s something wrong; there always is.  This time, the majority of the females of the various local fauna have cell structures indicating they are really different organisms under the skin. 

Turns out they spring from “teleplasm,” an inchoate life form whose modus vivendi is, whenever a male of any species passes by, to discern and produce his ideal mate.  Why this all-female survival strategy?  As the hero, ecologist Kelton, Socratically explains to one of the other guys:

“Who pays for a wife’s meals?”

“Her husband, of—Oh my God!”

Er . . . that’s not always how it works.  If a lioness could speak, she would have a rather different account of things, as would many other females of other species.  But never mind, because, of course, very shortly, all three crew members have their own cocoon-grown dream girls: the thuggish one has an adoring slave, the mama’s boy has a sexy mama figure, and well-balanced Kelton has a merely supernaturally beautiful mate who understands his every desire.

This road leads nowhere, of course—to species extinction, since teleplasm doesn’t breed in the usual fashion, and not even to short-term satisfaction for Kelton, to whom

“. . . Woman had always been Mystery.

“And a creature of his own mind could hold no mystery for him, only the unsatisfying illusion of it.”

So Kelton does the only sensible thing, which you can probably guess.  While Kelton’s devotion to the autonomy of Woman may be creditable, there are hints of some pretty strange attitudes drifting through the story.  At one point, as Kelton is musing about how the teleplasm women are custom-made for their men, he thinks, “Swapping them would be like swapping toothbrushes.” Earlier, Spinrad quotes a “saying among Survey men: ‘Planets are like women.  It’s not the ugly ones that are dangerous.’”

Well, let’s reserve the psychoanalysis and give the author credit for a reasonably well-turned story—but meanwhile, Mr. Spinrad, you might think about putting some women on your space crews.  Three stars.

The Hard Way, by Robert Rohrer

Robert Rohrer’s growing competence suffers a setback in The Hard Way, a one-set psychodrama starring the sadistic Lieutenant Percy, who is delivering several prisoners from a penitentiary on Earth to one on Mercury.  Unfortunately they missed the turn towards Mercury and are heading towards the Sun, to die of heat on the way.  May as well have some fun with it! thinks the Lieutenant, and offers the prisoners a choice between slowly roasting to death and opening the airlock for a faster and cleaner exit.  Contrived, cliched, scenery-chewing.  Two stars, barely, and mainly to distinguish it from the abysmal Sharkey story.

The Handyman, by Leo P. Kelley


by George Schelling

Leo P. Kelley’s The Handyman is a pleasantly inconsequential dystopia about a small town where everything seems pretty nice except for the medical facility, the Hive, which spirits sick people away to its sterile and overlit premises and forbids any medical practice but its own.  Old Doc Larkin must ply his profession covertly, masquerading as a handyman and carrying his instruments concealed in a loaf of bread newly baked by his wife.  Three stars, also barely.

The Men in the Moon, by Robert Silverberg


by Virgil Finlay

The second of Robert Silverberg’s “Scientific Hoaxes” articles is The Men in the Moon, concerning the hoax perpetrated by journalist Richard Adams Locke, who published a series of articles in the New York Sun concerning the observations of profuse flora, fauna, and people on the Moon, supposedly made by famed astronomer William Herschel from his observatory at Cape Town, South Africa.  Herschel was indeed in Cape Town but of course made no such observations and didn’t know Locke was making these claims until years later.  Like its predecessor, it’s an interesting story capably told.  Three stars.

Summing Up

So: another dose of mediocrity from this historic magazine that hasn’t done much of anything for us lately, and owes us big time, at least those of us putting down good money for it each month.  Maybe the Zelazny serial will be its redemption.  Hope springs eternal, but it’s getting tired.

[Holiday season is upon us, and Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), on the other hand, contains some of the best science fiction of the Silver Age.  And it makes a great present! Think of it as a gift to friends…and the Journey!




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Book, Magazine, Science / Space Race, Serial

[December 5, 1964] Steady as she goes (January 1965 IF)

4 Comments


by Gideon Marcus

A tale of two missions

Mariner 4, launched November 28, 1964, is on its way to Mars.  Shortly after launch, the smart folks at Jet Propulsion Laboratory (some of whom I met last weekend!) determined that Mariner was going to miss its destination by some 200,000 kilometers.  So they calculated the nudge it would take to deflect the ship toward a closer rendezvous with the Red Planet.  This morning, the little spacecraft was ordered to fire its onboard engines for a 20 second burn, and it now looks like Mariner will come within just 10,000 kilometers of its target!

On the other side of the world, the Soviets have informed the world that their Zond 2 probe, launched two days after Mariner 4, needs no course correction.  On the other hand, on Dec. 2, it was reported that the probe is only generating half the power it's supposed to.

Similarly, in the science fiction magazine world, no fewer than three magazines got new editors this year (Fantasy and Science Fiction, Science Fantasy, and New Worlds), and two of them have the same editor with a different name (Amazing's and Fantastic's Cele Goldsmith is now Cele Lalli).

But in Fred Pohl's trinary system of Galaxy, Worlds of Tomorrow, and IF, not only is leadership unchanged, but so is content.  Nowhere is that clearer than in the January 1965 issue of IF, which like its predecessors, is an uneven mix of old and new authors, old and new ideas, and generally inferior but not unpleasant work. 

In other words, on course, but running on half-steam.

The Issue at Hand


by Gray Morrow

In many ways, this is not the issue Pohl wanted on the news stands.  The cover doesn't illustrate any of the contents of the issue; it's supposed to go with Jack Vance's novel, The Killing Machine.  But since that story ended up in book print before it could be serialized, it was pulled from appearing in the magazine.  Instead, we got the sequel to Fred Pohl's and Jack Williamson's The Reefs of Space, which had the virtue of being an IF-exclusive series and co-written by the editor. 

It's a good thing Pohl had it in his back pocket!

Starchild (Part 1 of 3), by Frederik Pohl and Jack Williamson


by Gray Morrow

Hundreds of years from now, the solar system is ruled by the Plan of Man, a computer-led collective in which everyone's lives are ordered, and dissent is rewarded with a quick trip to the body banks for organ harvesting.  But out in the stellar outskirts, in the frigid birthplace of comets, the steady creation of matter in the universe provides rich feeding grounds for the fusorians.  These cosmic plankton eaters in turn create vast reefs in space, homes to the seal-like spacelings and their predators, the dragonesque pyropods.  These reefs have also become shelters for Terran dissidents yearning to be free.  The Reefs of Space told the tale of their first human visitors.

Starchild is the story of Machine Major Boysie Gann, a spy sent to Polaris station to suss out traitors to the Plan.  He ends up kidnapped to the Reefs and then made a messenger to the Planner, the human liaison with the Planning Machine.  Mysteriously teleported back to Earth, Boysie bears with him The Writ of Liberation: if the Plan of Man does not end its attempts to subjugate the free people of the Reefs, the "Starchild" will blacken the Sun…

I was a bit chary of this serial at the beginning.  Williamson is a pulp writer from the way-back, and it shows.  Pohl can be brilliant, but Reefs was more pedestrian (except for the gripping middle section).  But Starchild kept me going the whole way, sort of a Cordwainer Smith "Instrumentality" story, though with less poetry.

Four stars so far.

Answering Service, by Alma Hill

A Boston fan and writer, Hill is new to my ken but has apparently been published since 1950. Service shows us a world where the SPCA has won, cats and other "aggressive" animals are tolerated only in zoos, and mice are overrunning the world without check.  One man is determined to reverse this situation.

Utterly forgettable.  Two stars.

The Recon Man, by Wilson Tucker


by Nodel

A young man wakes up from an amnesiac coma with a push to his back out the door of a house.  Onto a Heinlein moving road he goes, along with dozens of other male commuters to some mysterious labor destination.  A spitfire, himself, the other drones are so many zombies.  Only the pink jumpsuited women have any personality; they seem to run the show.

The man is harnessed to a machine, tasked with creating bacon by conceptualizing it so it can materialize in front of him.  He soon gets bored with this role and makes neckties and carpentry tools instead.  This shuts down the assembly line early, and one of the female supervisors takes him home to see what's wrong with him. 

Slowly, memories of a fatal car crash, centuries before in 1960, coalesce in the man's mind.  How did he get to this strange world?  For what purpose?  And how long does he have to live?

Recon Man is a neat little mystery with a truckload of dark implications.  I liked it a lot.  Four stars.

Vanishing Point, by Jonathan Brand


by Gray Morrow

This is the second outing by Brand, his first being a disappointment.  He fares better with this one, a space story within a bedtime story (the framing is cute but not particularly necessary) about Earth travelers on the first emissary mission to an alien race.

The place chosen for first contact is a sort of mock-Earth made by the aliens, a beautiful park of a world stocked with all sorts of game.  It even has a centenarian, human caretaker.  But neither the park, nor the old man, are what they seem.

Not bad.  Three stars.

The Heat Racers, by L. D. Ogle

Then we come to our traditional IF "first", the piece by a heretofore unpublished author (or at least an unpublished pseudonym).  This one is a vignette about a race of anti-grav sailboats.  I think.  The motive force and levitative technologies are never really explained.

Another trivial piece.  Two stars.

Retief, God-Speaker, by Keith Laumer


by Jack Gaughan

And last up, we have yet another installment in the increasingly tiresome saga of Retief, the diplomatic superspy of the future.  This one involves a race of money-grubbing, seven-foot, theocratic slobs, and the diminutive, subterranean aliens they mean to wipe out like vermin.  Can Retief establish formal relations with the former while saving the latter?

By the end of the novelette, you probably won't care.  This is easily the goofiest and most heavy-handed entry in the series.  I think it's time for Laumer to cut his losses.

Two stars.

Summing Up

All told, this month's issue is more "half a loaf" than "curate's egg".  The parts I liked were lots of fun, and as for the dreary bits, at least they made for quick reading.  I've said before that Pohl doesn't really have enough good material for three mags, but he could have a dynamite pair.

On the other hand, IF is a place to stick new authors and off-beat stories.  I just wish they were more consistently successes!

Maybe 1965 will be the year IF gets a mid-course correction…

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




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Book, Magazine

[November 29, 1964] All-star (December 1964 Analog)

8 Comments


by Gideon Marcus

The Big Guns

Thanksgiving is over, and the holiday season will officially begin tonight with the lighting of the first of the Hannukah candles.  After that, it's just a short skip and a jump to that more widely celebrated holiday.

I am, of course, referring to the Winter Solstice.

It is an appropriate season, then, for science fiction's most-read magazine, Analog, to finish its year of publication with a bang.  Fantasy and Science Fiction is fond of issuing "All-Star" magazines, in which the majority of the authors are big names.  The December 1964 Analog isn't so dubbed, but nevertheless, it's chock full of heavy hitters.  Let's take a look!

Armed Assault


by Robert Swanson

Tempestuous Moon, by Joseph H. Jackson

It has been the subject of wives' tales and farmers' almanacs that the phases of the Moon have an effect on the weather.  In particular (they maintain), some points in the lunar cycle are likelier to be rainy than others.  And now Analog has got a breathless article confirming the folk wisdom.  Take that, doubting eggheads!

It's true that (editor) Campbell is notorious for printing the worst pseudoscience pieces, and Jackson's article is mostly blather.  However, if his data be accurate, they are compelling.  While the phases of the Moon should have no effect on the Earth, per se, they do correspond to geometries between the Sun and the Moon with respect to the Earth.  And both of those bodies do have a profound effect on our planet every day in the form of tides.  I can conceive that a strong tide, for instance when the Sun and Moon's forces combine to cause Spring Tides, might create lower atmospheric pressures, reducing the amount of moisture the air can hold, causing rains.  Neap Tides would have the opposite effect.

Or it could all be garbage.  Are there any pieces in reputable journals?

Plague on Kryder II, by Murray Leinster

Calhoun the interstellar Med Service man and his adorable pet/assisant, Murgatroyd, are back.  This time, they are investigating an impossible plague, one which seems to suppress the immune system rather than directly infecting the body.  Worse, this disease kills tormals, the monkey-like race that Murgatroyd belongs to.  Since this latter is an impossibility, tormals being immune to all diseases, Calhoun suspects foul play.


by Kelly Freas

I love the Med Service stories.  Sadly, they are suffering from the same malaise that has infected all of Leinster's writing to date.  It causes him to write only in short, declarative statements, often repeating himself for no reason.  Also, this tale's solution is given mostly in exposition, which kills the fun of the mystery.

Still, even substandard Calhoun and Murgatroyd is pretty fun, and the picture of the sick tormal is too cute for words.  Three stars.

Shortstack, by Leigh and Walt Richmond


by Kelly Freas

The latest vignette by the Richmonds is an odd one, more a dramatized advertisement for a unique power generator.  It uses the heat differential between the top and bottom of a plastic cylinder to drive an engine and also to distill water.

Harmless, kind of interesting.  Three stars.

Contrast, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

A man trapped out in a wilderness that would give Deathworld a run for its money gets buzzed by an obnoxious tourist.  When said sightseer falls out, the hermit takes his skimmer and rides to safety.  The moral of the story: don't take what you have for granted, and a stint in the muck might do you good.

Enjoyable, despite the smugness of the ending.  Three stars.

Sweet Dreams, Sweet Princes (Part 3 of 3), by Mack Reynolds


by Robert Swanson

We return to the world of the early 21st Century, where society has stratified into stagnancy: in both East and West, the top 1% rule everything, the bottom 90% are jobless and tranquilized, and only the middle 9% have any real agency.  Last time, Estruscan professor and gladiator-extreme, Denny Land, had just won a tripartite contest over custody of a Belgian scientist who had invented anti-missile missiles, something with the potential to destabilize the world.

But when the Americans go to pick up the scientist, he has disappeared!  And rather than express disconcertment, Land's boss, Joe Mauser seems almost unsurprised…

Land goes back to his old school with a promotion and bump in caste, but he can't hide his frustration and disenchantment.  Reenter Bette Yarborough, who recruits Land into the Sons of Liberty to try to upend the whole rotten world order.  And then comes an even unlikelier ally in the cause — former foe and Sov-world agent, Yuri Malshev.  Together, can the three create a revolution?

And what if the revolution has already happened, and nobody knows?

This installment was the most engaging, well-paced and thoughtful, though there may have been one too many wheels within the wheels.  Perhaps a Part IV would not have been amiss.  I was grateful that Bette turned out not to just be a love interest (though more than one female in the universe would have been nice).  If anything, Denny and Yuri had more chemistry…

Anyway, four stars for this segment.  Call it three and a half for the novel as a whole.  I appreciate that Reynolds is willing to make "if this goes on" predictions.  I wonder how right he will prove to be…

Rescue Operation, by Harry Harrison


by Adolph Brotman

An alien astronaut crash lands on the shore of an Adriatic village.  Injured and barely conscious, he is taken to a local scientist for help.  But can an effective treatment be developed in time?

This simple story is given depth and emotion by the unusually talented Harrison, who will probably get my nomination for one of the year's best authors.  Four stars.

The Equalizer, by Norman Spinrad


by Adolph Brotman

In Israeli's Negev desert, a scientist wrestles with his conscience — and his superior — over the the new bomb he's invented.  On the one hand, it will give the little Jewish state inordinate power; on the other hand, power never remains exclusively owned for long. 

An interesting think piece whose title has a double meaning.  Three stars.

High Marks

Well, color me surprised!  Analog, normally a disappointing performer, scored a respectable 3.2 stars — second only this month to the superlative Galaxy (3.6).  Science Fantasy and Worlds of Tomorrow both scored an even 3 stars, largely thanks to better-than-average long pieces balancing out less impressive small ones.

And on the negative side of the ledger, we have a lackluster IF (2.8), a still-Davidson weighted Fantasy and Science Fiction (2.6), and Cele G. Lalli's mags did worst of all: Fantastic got just 2.3 stars, and Amazing broke the two barrier, scoring a jaw-dropping 1.9.  What happened?

Women published just 5 and a half of all the stories in magazines this month, all of them very short.  Betty Friedan would be rolling in her grave, and she's not even dead!

Ah well.  1965 approaches, a chance to wipe the slate and start anew.  But before then, you will want to see our Galactic Stars awards when they come out in a few short weeks!  Then you won't have to wade through the dross to get the gems — we'll have done the work for you.

Happy Holidays!

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




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Book, Magazine, Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[November 25, 1964] The Times They Are a-Changin’… Science Fantasy December 1964/January 1965

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

As I report, we’re on the countdown to Christmas here. I hope you had a good Halloween. I must admit that after last month’s surprisingly mediocre New Worlds, I was quite looking forward to picking up the new copy of Science Fantasy.

Politics seems to have calmed down a little after the shock election result last month. Mr. Wilson seems to be intent on trying to change the laws created by 13 years of continuous Conservative rule. Although he’s only been in office for just over a month, it is noticeable that there are changes, but at the same time obvious that major change isn’t going to happen straight away. Nevertheless, there has already been a vote to suspend the death penalty for murder in Britain, which should happen in 1965. I suspect that we will see more and possibly even bigger changes in the next few months.

In music, I’m pleased to let you know that after I wrote last time, Sandie Shaw has been replaced as Number 1 by…. the return of Roy Orbison and Oh Pretty Woman.

I really like it, so I am pleased.

Perhaps it is only fair that we see some quality American acts in our charts in return for our British exports. I understand that you’ve recently had a deluge of British acts hoping to emulate the success of The Beatles, including another Brit favourite, The Rolling Stones, who were on the Ed Sullivan Show a couple of weeks ago. Their singer, Mick Jagger, had a few moves to show you!

At the cinema I am pleased to write that I have had a stay of execution regarding the musical My Fair Lady. As sometimes happens, the trailers led me to believe that the movie would be here in the next couple of weeks. I now understand that the film will be appearing at my local Odeon in January. The good news then is that it gives me more time to come up with an excuse to avoid it, hopefully.

As we always go as a family to see a 'movie for Christmas’, it looks like the movie we will see as a family this year will be Father Goose, starring one of my favourites, Cary Grant.

Looks like quite a different role for Cary…

On the television the genre pickings have still not been many. I am still enjoying most of Doctor Who, and Jessica’s excellent reports on that series’ progress need no further comment from me, but my latest find this month has been another popular series for children. I am quite surprised how much I have enjoyed its undemanding entertainment, as Gerry Anderson’s Stingray has been shown on ITV. Be warned though – it’s a puppet series! Nevertheless, its enthusiasm and energy, combined with great music in a wonderful title sequence has made this unexpected fun. I understand that it has been entirely filmed in colour, although like the majority of the 14 million British households with a television, we’re forced to watch it in good old black-and-white.

The Issue At Hand

Just to reinforce the mythical theme, this month’s cover of a Bronze Centaur is quite striking and would not perhaps be out of place on the front of a History magazine. It is, of course to do with the second part of Thomas Burnett Swann’s serial, The Blue Monkeys (started last issue), of which more below.

The Editorial, like the snippet in New Worlds last month, extols the virtues of Brian Aldiss’s new novel Greybeard. I haven’t got a copy yet – Christmas is coming! – but I must admit that I like what I’m hearing.

The Editorial also seems to rate Charles Harness’s The Paradox Men as a superior Space Opera, although it has been around a while. I understand Brian Aldiss likes it a lot, and it sounds like it could be my sort of thing as well. Let’s hope that Santa is kind this year.

Other than that, the Editorial makes a valid point about not labelling book covers with “A Science Fiction Novel”, as if it is something to be ashamed of, and finishes with the good news that Science Fantasy may soon go monthly.  Sales must be up, then.

To the stories themselves.

The Blue Monkeys (part 2), by Thomas Burnett Swann

The second part of this serial tells us what happens to teenage Thea and Icarus now that they are under the care of Eunostos, the Minotaur. This part of the story is written from the perspective of Eunostos.  It appears that taking Thea and Icarus into his world has not been easy.  Much of this part is about how bringing up Thaea and Icarus has changed his world, firstly by affecting Eunostos’s relationship with his friends Moschus the Centaur (presumably the cover star this month) and Zoe the Dryad and then when Icarus is coerced into bed by Amber the Thria. There’s some history – we are told how Eunostos knew the children’s parents and has been in the background of their lives since they were born, for example. The story ends when we discover what Ajax plans to do to get the children to return to the human world, which will no doubt be concluded in the final part next month.  I really like this reinterpretation of ancient myths. The style is engaging and written in a wryly amusing manner throughout which appeals to my own sense of humour. What is still surprising is how adult in tone the story is – much of this is about getting the teenagers into bed, which was a little disconcerting, but on the whole this one reads as effortlessly as last month. So, like last time, 4 out of 5.

Room With A Skew, by John Rackham

To lesser things, now. The last time I read a John Rackham story was in New Worlds with his story Crux in November 1963, although he was in Science Fantasy in the July/August issue. This is a light story about the things mad inventors create – in this case, a means of creating extra space in a flat by accessing the fourth dimension. Doctor Who would not have this problem!  It is a one plot idea that is better than the pun-ish title suggests, but really is just an amusing space-filler. 3 out of 5.

EJ Carnell – A Quick Look, by Harry Harrison

It’s nice to see the return of Brian Aldiss’s friend, editor and author Harry Harrison in this issue, although the subject matter of his non-fiction article is something less palatable to my tastes – recently departed New Worlds editor John Carnell. Despite my own personal grumbles about the poor last few issues of New Worlds, there’s no denying that John has had an impact on British SF and it would be wrong of me to not appreciate that, but really this is nothing more than a sycophantic promotional post for him. 3 out of 5.

The Charm, by Keith Roberts

Very pleased to see the return of this writer, who impressed me in the last issue. The Charm is another ‘Anita’ story, about the “very lovely but rather inexperienced” teenage witch finding her feet in a modern world. Think of her as a sexualised Sabrina the Teenage Witch (from Archie’s Mad House). This does involve her *cough* ‘finding experience’ in this story by being firstly captured by a witch-hunter and then going to bed with him. Using a witch’s power to make it work, the two use a Time Charm to travel backwards in time, where it all borrows heavily from H G Wells. The end of the story is a bit abrupt but generally Anita’s as amiable as she was last issue, albeit still with the annoying Granny. “I’m allus the same…” the Granny says. Quite. Whilst Anita as a character is an alluringly engaging enigma, and there’s not really a great deal to this story, The Charm is an entertaining read. 3 out of 5.

Not Me, Not Amos Cabot!, by Harry Harrison

And here’s Harry returning, this time to write fiction. I enjoyed this more than his non-fiction article.  Not Me, Not Amos Cabot! tells the story of a grumpy old curmudgeon who when he receives a glossy magazine in the post with the cheery message that he is about to die – and is he prepared for it? – is determined to prove the magazine wrong. It’s all a bit Twilight Zone, emphasised by the fact that it seems to be set in New York rather than, say, London. I get the impression that it’s meant to be a parody of advertising, an exaggeration of what can happen in today’s commercialised world, but it all sounds quite possible to me. Entertaining enough. Harrison’s gently humorous writing style carries a story that’s actually not very original. 3 out of 5.

The Madman, by Alistair Bevan

A writer new to me.  Like Harrison’s story, this is another one about an old man, set in the future. This centenarian upsets his family and his neighbours for saying how much better things were in the past, to the point that he is regarded as insane and incarcerated into a Sector Asylum for causing disruption. I guess that the message is that the future’s not what it’s supposed to be, but we should spend our time looking forward, not back. There is little value in the old – something I suspect historians and archaeologists may disagree with. 3 out of 5.

Joik, by Ernest Hill

After his appearance in last month’s New Worlds, Ernest returns with a poor novella that’s about a dystopian future where African people rule the planets. In the Rationale (what that actually is is unclear) any idea of beauty is severely dealt with. It’s basically Big Brother but where the dictator is black, not white.  Imagine, for example, a British Empire run by the oppressed, not the oppressors.

To give it a futuristic feel, not to mention New Wave anxiety, there’s artificial intelligence and spaceships but also metaphysical angst, weird dream states and torture. The plot, for what it is, is an investigation where Dadulina’s partner, Tantor, has disappeared. We discover that Dadulina has actually been arrested and tortured. This appears to be to do with Joik, the means of travelling around the universe, although it all rather disappears up into some sort of metaphysical mess. Obviously, this also involves taking narcotics to gain the full experience of whatever it is they are experiencing, from which I emerged confused and decidedly uninterested.

I can see why some readers might like it. It’s determined to be edgy and controversial (Drugs! Sex! Race!), creates words to make it sound like the dialogue of the future and has a fast pace. However, for me its drug-induced navel-gazing all seemed a little dull. One of those where you have to be there to gain the full experience, I feel.  2 out of 5.

One of Those Days, by Charles Platt

We finish this issue with a minor story about a character having a miserable existence in a hotter future climate, who having complained about the noise, the hot weather and his wife and children, then dies. Seems a bit pointless, other than a chance to moan about domestic life for the future male. I was almost tempted to think of it as a Ballard-ian parody, but that would give the story more value than it deserves. There’s not a lot to fuss about over here. We finish with a whimper. 2 out of 5.

Summing up

This is a tough one to summarise, as it is an issue that I both enjoyed and I got frustrated by.  It starts well, but seems to run out of steam by the end. Overall though, I’m pleased to say though that, despite my grumbles, there’s a lot in this issue of Science Fantasy that I’ve enjoyed, and it is still more enjoyable than the last New Worlds. Despite both issues having stories that are quite depressing, Science Fantasy is just more engaging for me.  I think I am still enjoying the variety and range of the stories more with Science Fantasy than I am with New Worlds.

The bottom line is that when I have finished reading the two magazines, I remember the stories from Science Fantasy  much more positively than the ones in New Worlds.  Where New Worlds does score is that it seems to be more determined to experiment with form and style whereas Science Fantasy is more about just telling a story. At the moment though, for me plot is winning over form. It’ll be interesting to see if this continues into 1965.

I should be back to a new issue of New Worlds next month. Until next time… have a great Christmas!

UK Beatles fans, of which there are many, have been sent a Christmas greeting from the Fab Four on flexidisc.

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

 

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[November 21, 1964] Bridging the Gap (December 1964 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

I'll Cross That Bridge When I Come To It

Citizens of the Big Apple now have a new way to travel between Staten Island and Brooklyn, with the official opening of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. The structure is named for the Italian explorer Giovanni da Verrazzano, said to be the first European to sail into the Hudson River, way back in 1524. It is the longest suspension bridge in the world, spanning a little over four-fifths of a mile.


Note to proofreader: The name of the bridge has one z, the name of the man has two. Go figure.

More than five thousand people attended the opening ceremony on November 21st, including New York City Mayor Robert Ferdinand Wagner II and New York State Governor Nelson Rockefeller. Even President Johnson supplied a congratulatory speech.


The official motorcade crossing the bridge after the gold ribbon was cut. I don't think they had to pay the fifty cents that you or I would have to pay to get across.

If you'll allow me to stretch a metaphor to the breaking point, popular music can serve as a bridge between people of differing backgrounds, something we Americans could use during these times of racial strife. Case in point, as Rod Serling might say, is the fact that the Motown hit Baby Love, by the trio known as the Supremes, has been at the top of the US charts all month, and shows no sign of going away any time soon.


That makes the Supremes the first Motown act to reach Number One twice. Don't believe me? Ask any girl, or boy for that matter, who listens to Top 40 radio.

Appropriately, the latest issue of Fantastic features a lead novella about crossing the immense gap between the stars.

Why? To Get To The Other Side


Cover art by Lloyd Birmingham.

The Unteleported Man, by Philip K. Dick


All interior illustrations in this issue by George Schelling.

Rachmael ben Applebaum is a man with some serious problems. His father recently died, apparently by suicide. (There are hints that this may not be the case, but the question is never resolved.) Rachmael inherited the family business, which happens to involve faster-than-light starships. Not much faster, however; it still takes many years to reach their destinations.

Applebaum Enterprises is in ruins, because the rival company Trails of Hoffman has control over teleportation technology that reduces the travel time to minutes. In this future overpopulated world, millions of people have already paid a small fee to be zapped to Whale's Mouth, a planet orbiting the star Fomalhaut. The teleportation machine only works one way, so nobody has ever returned. The sole evidence for what things are like on Whale's Mouth comes via broadcasts from the planet. They make the place sound like a paradise compared to Earth.


Two minor characters in the story, considering a long-distance move.

Trails of Hoffman deliberately became a major stockholder in Applebaum Enterprises, so Rachmael now owes them a huge debt. They also have the legal right to ownership of the only starship he still possesses. Desperate to find out what's really happening on Whale's Mouth, he engages the services of Listening Instructional Educational Services, derisively known as Lies, Incorporated. Despite the name, the organization is actually interested in the truth. They serve as a private espionage agency for their clients.

What follows is a complex tale of plots and counter-plots, involving not only the groups I've noted above, but the United Nations, which is now a powerful world government, dominated by a reunited Germany. After many adventures that could have come out of a very strange, futuristic James Bond novel, Rachmael manages to set out alone on his starship, willing to spend eighteen years getting to Whale's Mouth and another eighteen years on a return flight to Earth. Meanwhile, Trails of Hoffman, Lies Incorporated, and the UN have their own plans, not to mention the folks on Whale's Mouth.

As usual for this author, there's a complicated background, plenty of twists in the plot, and multiple viewpoint characters. Also typical is the fact that things are not always as they seem. It's obvious from the start that Whale's Mouth isn't the Utopia it claims to be, but it's also not quite what Rachmael fears it might be. One of the organizations mentioned above seems to be an enemy, but turns out to be an ally. Even the title of the story is misleading.

As I've hinted, the story has the flavor of spy fiction, mixed with a lot of science fiction concepts. Although the mood is serious, even grim, there's a touch of satire and absurdity. (One character fears losing his job to a trained pigeon.) The plot always held my interest, and the characters are intriguing. (Some meet with sudden, unpleasant ends, so don't get too attached to them.)


See what I mean?

My one quibble is that the novella stops in an open-ended fashion. Perhaps the author intends to expand it into a novel.

Four stars.

I Am Bonaro, by John Starr Niendorff

Here's an odd little story by an author completely unknown to me. A disheveled old man stumbles out of a boxcar, unable to speak, wearing a sign around his neck, bearing the words in the title. He wanders around, holding out a sponge to everyone he meets. Flashback sequences reveal his miserable childhood, when he developed the power to change himself into anything in order to escape his tormentors. The end explains his current condition, and the reason for the sponge. The whole thing is weird enough to be worth a look.

Three stars.

IT, Out of Darkest Jungle, by Gordon R. Dickson

Written in the form of a screenplay, this is a spoof of bad science fiction monster movies. You've got the young, handsome scientist, the beautiful assistant who loves him, the older scientist who makes an amazing discovery, and the monster. It's all very silly, and almost too close to what it's making fun of. (It makes me feel like I saw this thing on Shock Theater.) Readers of Famous Monsters of Filmland may get a kick out of it.

Two stars.

They're Playing Our Song, by Harry Harrison

In this very short story, a quartet of long-haired rock 'n' roll musicians, pursued by screaming teenage girls, turn out to be something other than ordinary superstars. This broad parody of the Beatles has an ending you'll see coming a mile away.

One star.

The Fanatic, by Arthur Porges


As the blurb suggests, sensitive readers may wish to skip this story.

The title character believes that alien invaders take the form of animals. He thinks he can detect them, because their behavior is slightly different from that of ordinary animals. He uses very disturbing methods in his quest to discover the truth. The conclusion is predictable.

I have to confess that there's a certain horrifying effectiveness to the narrative, but it's not one that most readers will enjoy.

Two stars.

Merry Christmas From Outer Space, by Christopher Anvil

Told through letters and interstellar messages, this is a comedy about Earthlings and aliens. Two rival extraterrestrial forces are hidden on Earth. One places a mind-disrupting device near the other's location. It turns out that the thing was pointed the wrong way, leading to a series of confused messages between a writer and a science fiction magazine.


I guess this is the machine that causes all the trouble.

You could easily take out the stuff about the aliens, and wind up with a mundane farce about miscommunication. Unless you find back-and-forth exchanges about payment and cancelled checks to be funny, I doubt you'll be amused.


Could this be the author having his story accepted by the editor?

One star.

Worth Paying The Toll?


OK, so this isn't the right bridge. Sue me.

By coincidence, a copy of the magazine costs just as much as crossing the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. (I doubt toll collectors will accept it instead of cash.) Making an analogy between the two, I'd say that the structure starts off strong enough, but the quality of the architecture drops off rapidly after that, ending with a big splash into a metaphorical ocean of poor-to-mediocre stories.

Of course, things could be worse, if you happened to be crossing the Tacoma Narrows Bridge on November 7th of 1940.


The hopeful beginning.


The tragic end.

Let's just be thankful that reading a bad story isn't as dangerous as crossing a poorly designed bridge.

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