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[January 20, 1966] Bombs, duds, and happy endings (February 1966 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Near miss

Three days ago, a B-52 nuclear bomber crashed into a KC-135 tanker aircraft off the southern coast of Spain.  The tanker was immediately destroyed, killing its four crew, and the B-52 crashed — four of its seven crew survived.

The payload of said bomber had a similarly mixed fate: two of the bombs exploded upon hitting the ground, though the nuclear device did not activate.  As a result, there is now an irradiated zone near the fishing village of Palomares.  The third bomb did not go off at all.

A fourth bomb fell into the Mediterranean Sea.  We're still looking for that one; with luck, it will be found and all will be fine.  I can't imagine Franco will want us flying our bombers over Spanish airspace anymore, though.

Turbulent flying

While The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has not plumbed the same depths it often did under the brief editorship of Avram Davidson, nevertheless Joe Ferman's F&SF has almost as many ups and downs as a Japan-bound 707 crossing a jet stream boundary.  After last month's lousy outing (which followed the previous month's excellent issue), we're on something of a level flight path.  The stories in this month's issue range from fair to middlin' with only one stand-out and one definite clunker.


by George Salter

The Gadge System, by Reginald Bretnor

Assembly line schmo, Joe Gadge, decides to quit his job and light for Burma.  His goal: to secure the inset ruby of an idol whereby to become a millionaire and win the hand of his sweetheart.  Thus ensues an amusing send-up of the typical pulp jungle adventure.  I particularly appreciated the subversion of racist clichés.

Bretnor has mostly stayed away from the SFF scene, having devoted his energies instead to the monthly pun columns that used to curse…er…grace F&SF.  This latest piece feels like a relic of the last decade, but it's pleasant reading.

Three stars.


by Gahan Wilson

Against Authority, by Miriam Allen deFord

Two young men and an extraordinary young woman are poised to rid New Turkey of "Authority", the long-installed dictator who sprang to power in the wake of a devastating alien invasion.  But the revolt is subverted even as it starts, and the plot appears to be some kind of grooming by Authority himself to find talented agents.

Where one wheel exists within another, one can be certain a third ring remains to be discovered as well.

While this story is an enjoyable pageturner, the plot is archaic (no surprise — deFord is one of the genre's longest serving veterans) and it all ends too abruptly for satisfaction.

If the previous story scraped the line between three and four stars, Against Authority hovers just above this ranking's lower boundary.

An Afternoon in May, by Richard Winkler

A library is under siege, its elderly operators determined to turn its shelves into a literary Alamo against the ignorant mob of would-be book burners.  May covers the same ground as Bradbury's The Fireman, though with a lighter touch ("The situation is hopeless, but not serious.")

Three stars.

Witness for the Persecution, by Randall Garrett

On a far off human planet in a binary system, Walt Gayle finds himself the target of a vigorous assassination plot after purchasing the secret of artificial gravity from the Interstellar Traders.  He is only saved by the ministrations of one Jeremiah, who seems to be almost omnipotent.  Why is Gayle hunted, and what lies at the other end of the chase?

I'm not sure why this story didn't get sold to Analog, where it would seem more at home.  I do know that F&SF has been trying to get more space stories of late (to maintain the "SF" part of its name).

Anyway, it's not bad, but it's also nothing you haven't seen before, and you likely won't remember it next month.  Certainly, the "surprise" reveal at the end is anything but.

Three stars.

Desynchronosis, by Theodore L. Thomas

There is a new malady that afflicts those of us in the Jet Set: "time zone syndrome".  In this article, surprisingly bereft of the Thomas' half-baked SF story seeds, the author posits that there may be other cycles beyond the 24-hour one that rule our biology.

Three stars.  I wish it had been a full length article.

The New Men, by Joanna Russ

In 1986, a East Bloc dignitary stranded in Poland by a broken down car seeks shelter in an ancient bougeois fortress.  Its resident appears to be a 400 year old Count, dusty but well-preserved.  Literate (if obtuse and veiled) horror ensues.

Russ is very good at aping older styles of writing, and she has produced some near masterpieces in the process.  This latest story will not be one of them, I'm afraid.  Perhaps I'm not versed enough in the legend it's modernizing.

Three stars.

The Way Back, by D. K. Findlay

Often, a science fiction story will be spawned by the latest scientific discovery.  In The Way Back's case, it's the recent revelation that the universe not only was created in a Big Bang, but that it may eventually collapse under its own gravitation back into a gravitational point source. 

This rather incoherent piece suggests that the process of collapse will begin in the next few decades (it won't) and that accompanying the collapse will be a gradual de-evolution of humanity (what?!)

Two stars.

Up and Down the Earth, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor takes up the subject of mountains, describing the highest heights by continent, and also under various other circumstances: distance of peaks from the Earth's core, height of mountains if the oceans were drained, etc.  Missing is the most important statistic, of course: length of ascent from base to summit.

Another geographical dart throw.  Three stars.

The Mountains of Magnatz, by Jack Vance

Speaking of mountains…

Despite the punnish name, there is no relation between this story and Lovecraft's swansong, In the Mountains of Madness.  Instead, we have the sequel to the first story of Cugel the Clever, a charlatan tasked by a sorcerer to find and return an ancient magical relic.  Cugel navigates whirlpools, deodands, and trecherous townsfolk in an adventure that is half Howard, half Baum.

A little too trivial to be sublime, it is nevertheless quite clever and a lot of fun.

Four stars.

Girls Will Be Girls, by Doris Pitkin Buck

Last up as sort of a postlude is a cautionary tale about telepathy.  A young esper woman is weary of her access to the primitive and lewed thoughts of the men around her — but she's even more horrified when the thoughts of an intended beaux do not incline toward the crude.

At least, I think that's the point of this story.

Three stars.

Cruising Altitude

And so we make it through another month of F&SF, this time without any untoward accidents, but also without many memorable incidents.  At some point, I expect the Vance will be fixed up into a book, and there won't be much reason to return to this issue.

I suppose tolerable mediocrity is better than significant dross.  We're due for a really good issue, though, I hope we get one next month!




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[January 16, 1966] Getting There Is Half The Fun (March 1966 Worlds of Tomorrow)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Modes of Transportation


I hope that the Cunard Line will forgive me for stealing their famous slogan. By the way, isn't this a lovely advertisement?

In this modern world, there are all kinds of ways of getting around. There are luxury liners, as shown above. There are airplanes, complete with friendly attendants to cater to your every whim.


This ad is about ten years old. It must have come from a magazine in a doctor's waiting room.

There are, of course, automobiles, that you can either own or rent when you need them.


I do not, however, recommend jumping directly from a plane to a car.

In science fiction, we have lots of futuristic devices to send us from one place to another, from moving sidewalks to starships. The latest issue of Worlds of Tomorrow features people transported through space and time in various ways. The lead novella includes a method of getting from Point A to Point B that I haven't seen before, and that I don't think I would enjoy.

Dying To Be Somewhere Else


Cover art by Gray Morrow.

The Suicide Express, by Philip Jose Farmer


Illustrations by Jack Gaughan.

We return to the planet known as Riverworld, where everyone who has ever lived on Earth is reincarnated into a young and healthy body. Our hero is, once more, the Nineteenth Century adventurer Richard Francis Burton. It turns out that anyone who dies on Riverworld is reincarnated again, but in a different location on the giant planet.

Burton discovers that his old nemesis, the infamous Nazi leader Hermann Goering, has been reincarnated in the same place he now resides, after Burton killed him. We'll find out later that the two enemies come back to life in identical locations more than once. There is some kind of bond between them, it seems, although why remains a mystery.

The enormous river that gives this world its name runs from the north pole, all the way around the planet, then back to where it started. That doesn't make geographic sense, of course, so it's clear that some kind of super-advanced technology is involved. There are tales of a bold explorer who spotted a vast tower at the head of the river, beyond impassible mountains. Determined to unlock the secrets of Riverworld, Burton sets out to find the tower. Because sailing all the way to the north pole, if it is even possible, would take many decades, he uses another method of travel.

He kills himself. Seven hundred and seventy-seven times, to be exact. The odds are low that he'll be reincarnated near the north pole, but he's willing to take the chance.

Meanwhile, the so-called Ethicals who created Riverworld are hunting down Burton, apparently because he seems to be the only person who was conscious, in some kind of storage area, before being reincarnated. There's also a rogue Ethical, working against the others, who claims to be protecting Burton.

Along the way we meet John Collop, a Seventeenth Century poet. Like Burton and Goering, this is a real historical figure, if not quite as famous. In Farmer's tale, he's a saintly fellow, who is an evangelist for a new religion, the Church of the Second Chance. We also witness the transformation of the guilt-ridden, drug-addicted Goering into what possibly might be a better human being.


Burton meets the Ethicals.

The plot moves swiftly, and there's always something interesting going on. Farmer has latched on to a premise that allows him a lot of room to bring in folks from all sorts of places, from the prehistoric past to the near future. My only quibble is that he raises more questions than he answers. I assume there will be more stories in this series. They might clear things up.

Four stars.

The Kindly Invasion, by Christopher Anvil

Let's see; a story by Christopher Anvil. Do I even have to read it to find out that it's about clever humans outwitting technologically superior but foolish aliens?

In this variation on his favorite theme, the extraterrestrials come to Earth bearing gifts. Among other blessings, they offer a serum that prevents aging. They communicate with humans via telepathy.

Our main character smells something fishy. He assumes the telepathy is really brainwashing. He's the big boss of an arms company, and he decides to sell an excellent firearm to the public dirt cheap, so that lots of people will buy them. (Can you see where this is going?)

Sure enough, the aliens turn out to be bad guys, and the heavily armed folks who didn't fall for their propaganda are ready to take them on.

I was really, really hoping that the arms dealer's suspicions would turn out to be unjustified. Instead, there is nothing at all surprising about the plot. This yarn would have found a more appropriate home in the pages of Analog.

Two stars.

The Super-Sleuths of Science Fiction, by Sam Moskowitz

In the previous issue, we had the first part of a look at crimefighters in SF. This section is exactly like the other. We get a long list of science fiction detective stories, most of which sound really lousy. At the end we get a quick look at modern examples, such as Asimov's robot novels.

My opinion has not changed. I admire the author's scholarship, but the resulting article is as dry as dust.

Two stars.

Like Any World of Gree, by C. C. MacApp


Illustrations by Peter Lutjens.

A bunch of stories about a resourceful hero fighting the slaveholding minions of Gree have already appeared in If. I'm not sure why this one appeared in its sister magazine, but maybe editor Frederik Pohl ran out of room for it.

Anyway, in this adventure we're on Earth. The home world is already occupied by the villains, but the good guys are coming to the rescue. There's just one big problem. Once the followers of Gree are defeated in a space battle, they'll wipe out all life on the planet. Our hero has to sneak in, disguise himself as a human bounty hunter working for the bad guys, work with the local resistance underground, and, as usual, sneak his way into the enemy compound.


Take that, Gree-loving scum!

The series as a whole has been a little repetitious. This one has the novelty of being set on Earth, but otherwise it's the same old espionage and sabotage plot we've seen before.

Two stars.

Umpty, by Basil Wells

A couple of hundred years from now, most folks are unemployed. Some of them eke out a living with subsistence farming, other are outlaws. The protagonist, a fellow hoping to get a job, rescues a woman from a gang of hoodlums. She claims to be from the past, with her mind transported into a body of the future. After some adventures, they find out what's really going on.

There really isn't much to this story other than the twist ending, which I thought was kind of silly. I suppose the background is mildly interesting, but that's about it.

Two stars.

Comets Via the VJSEH, by Robert S. Richardson

The author speculates about the origin of comets having orbits associated with Jupiter. He dismisses the idea that they were captured by the gravity of the giant planet, because there are far too many of them still around, considering their relatively short lifetimes. Did they emerge from Jupiter? No, because they could not possibly escape the immense gravitational pull. Instead, he promotes the hypothesis that they were ejected from Jovian moons, due to volcanic activity.

It seems to me that the argument falls apart if you accept the possibility that there's a steady supply of comets coming from deep in space, maybe beyond Pluto. In that case, there would be plenty of them for Jupiter to grab. The article also has some illustrations that are not reproduced very well, so I haven't bothered to photocopy them here.

Two stars.

Choice of Weapons, by Richard C. Meredith


Illustration by Gray Morrow

A motley collection of folks gets transported from all kinds of places on Earth, and from different times, in this yarn. There's the hero, an American (I presume) hunter of the present; there's a naked, seemingly comatose little girl; a royal woman of ancient Egypt; a huge fellow of prehistoric times; a woman from a decadent future; an ancient Roman soldier; an Asian woman who might be from just about any time; and a soldier from a brutal future dictatorship.

These very confused people find themselves in a metal room. Food appears from time to time, but the amount keeps shrinking. Given this threat to their existence, not to mention conflict over the affections of the sexually provocative woman from the future, it's not a big surprise when violence breaks out. (I forgot to mention that the hunter has his gun, the Roman has his sword, and the man from the future has his laser. The prehistoric man just has his body, which is enough of a weapon.)

There's an explanation for their situation, of course. It also turns out that the little girl, who does not respond to anything at all in any way until the end of the story, is the key to saving the lives of those who survive the ordeal.

I have very mixed feelings about this tale. The frequent killing, along with implied rape, make it disturbing to read. On the other hand, the way in which the author portrays characters from many different times and cultures is convincing. In particular, the half-intelligible language spoken by the woman from the future is fascinating.

Three stars.

Did You Have A Nice Trip?

The good ship Worlds of Tomorrow, under the command of Captain Frederik Pohl, set sail with streamers flying. Her first port of call was well worth the price of boarding. The rest of the voyage, maybe not. As we disembark, we may wistfully wonder if the excursion was really a vital one.


If it's a Galactic Journey, I have to say Yes!



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Serial

[January 8, 1966] Seems like old times (February 1966 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Nostalgia

Stop me if you've heard this one before ("Stop!  Stop!") but when I picked up that first issue of Galaxy Science Fiction magazine in October 1950, I was hooked.  I had encountered SF previously, as a kid with Edgar Rice Burroughs, H. G. Wells, and Jules Verne.  I'd devoured L. Frank Baum's works.  And through the 30s and 40s, I leafed through the odd issue of Astounding.  But it wasn't until I read H. L. Gold's mag that SF really seduced me.  Here were mature stories for adults going beyond the "gimmick" story.

In 1954, I became voracious, buying every mag in sight.  Some were worthy, like Fantasy and Science Fiction, Satellite, Beyond and (often) Astounding and Fantastic Universe.  Others were…less than worthy: Amazing, Infinity, Imagination, Super Science, and on and on.  But I read them all.  I was hooked.

Gold left the editorship in 1961, and the esteemed Fred Pohl took over.  The magazine has been in a bit of a holding pattern since the turn of the decade, rarely being outright bad, but rarely evoking the heights of those first few years of publication, when virtually every story was a stunner.

The latest issue is a stunning return to form. 

The Issue at Hand


by Virgil Finlay

Under Old Earth, by Cordwainer Smith

The enigmatic Mr. Smith has been a staple of Galaxy from early days, and I understand he is one of the folks Mr. Pohl regularly visits to obtain new stories.  Under Old Earth is the latest installment in the Instrumentality series, portraying a happy, fatuous humanity atop a slave class of altered beasts and robots. 

In this particular story, Sto-Odin, a dying Lord of the Instrumentality heads to the Gebiet, the vast underworld separate from the laws and enforced happiness of the surface world.  There, he expects to find the vital spark of humanity that can restore the race.  He encounters a self-styled Sun-God who has purloined a piece of the congohelion, a vast structure that regulates the output of stars, to make inhumanly powerful music.  And tending his altar is Santuna, dismayed with what the Sun-God has become, and destined for a great role in the eventual Rediscovery of Man.

As always, it is lyrical and lovely, different from anything else you'll ever read.  Four stars.


by Virgil Finlay

Courting Time, by Tom Purdom

The excellence continues with this marvelous treatment of polygamy in the mid-21st century on the eve of a great world fair: A composer in love with a woman comprising one eighth of an 8-way marriage wishes to become the next spouse in the cluster.  But he has strong competition in the form of a ruthless and irresistable playboy.  What's a lovelorn fellow to do?

Tom happens to be a friend of mine, and here are his notes on the genesis of this tale:

I got the idea several years before I wrote the story, when one of the older women in the Philadelphia Science Fiction Society told me she thought every woman needed four husbands, each one good at a different specialty–making money, romance, companionship, parenting.  I felt that would work for men, too.

Most stories about group marriage that I'd read, it seemed to me, were stories about group sex.  Courting Time is about the sociology of marriage.  It owes something to Morton Hunt's The Natural History of Love, a book about the history of Western ideas about sex and marriage.  Hunt concludes that our modern vision of marriage essentially demands that a two person relationship fulfill all the needs people once satisfied with their relationships with larger groupings like the extended family.  You're supposed to find one person who can be your business partner, sexual partner, romantic partner, parent to your children, and lifelong companion.  No single individual can do a five star job in all those roles.

I really liked the idea of the global world's fair.  The world fair in New York was going on at that time and I asked myself what a world fair might look like in the future.

I called the story "Courting".  I like one word titles.  Fred Pohl changed it to "Courting Time", querying my approval, which has more of a lilt.

Other than Heinlein's The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, Courting Time is the only SF story dealing with polygamy I've read in recent history.  It's a very good story, though it could use a little more development with the protagonist's falling in love with each of the spouses.  Tom agrees with my four star assessment.

Read it!

For Your Information: The Wreck of La Lutine, by Willy Ley

160 years ago, the gold ship, La Lutine, was capsized in a storm off the coast of Holland.  Since then, numerous attempts of increasing sophistication have been made to recover the lost bullion, with limited success.  Ley's account of these efforts is fascinating — maybe the Journey should put together a recovery mission of its own!

Four stars.

The Echo of Wrath , by Thomas M. Disch

Little Ilisveta, an eight year old Martian, is bored with her rough frontier life and yearns for something better, something like the Earth-trotting days her grandfather Dmitri and grandmother Sally enjoyed some sixty years prior.  But such a life can never be.

Echo is a relatively unremarkable story until the end, which struck me in the gut with the force of a train.  You've done it again, Mr. Disch.

Four stars.

Where the Changed Ones Go, by Robert Silverberg


by Jack Gaughan

Just last issue, Robert Silverberg gave us the second in a series one might call Blue Fire, a collection of loosely related novellas set in a future where the secular scientific religion of Vorsterianism has achieved currency across the Earth. 

But not across the planets.  The aloof Martians and the arrogant Venusians will have no truck with the Vorsterians.  However, for some reason, the heretical Harmonists have managed to get a foothold on the hostile second planet from the Sun.  So Nicholas Martell, a Vorsterian minister from Earth discovers when he runs across Brother Mondschein (who we met in the last story), who warns Martell that his errand is futile.

Martell, who has undergone a massive physical alteration just to live on Venus, will not be easily deterred — especially as he seems to have found his first potential convert, a young boy with the power of telekinesis.

Silverberg's Venus might as well be a random alien world, so little resemblance does it bear to the actual Venus.  Astronomical quibbles aside, however, it's a fine story.

Four stars.

Eye of an Octopus, by Larry Niven

The first expedition to Mars finds Martians, and they're far more like (and unlike!) humans than they could have imagined.  Is the well they discover for drinking or something else?

A well-drawn little puzzle story.  We've taken to reading Niven stories, when they come out, at bedtime.  Janice appreciated the wealth of detail briefly described and gave it four stars.  Lorelei was less thrilled, giving it a solid three.

I'd split the difference if I could, but it's not a novel, so I can't.  I'd say it's a worthy three star tale.

In the Imagicon, by George H. Smith

What do you give to the man who has everything?  Why, nothing of course.  A whole lot of it. 

And vice versa.

Smith is a fellow who used to write for the lesser mags back in the 50s.  He's been AWOL pretty much since I started the Journey so, until I did some digging, I thought he was a new author rather than a veteran.

Anyway, Imagicon is a pretty obvious tale.  Not bad, just primitive by Galaxy's standards.  I wavered between two and three stars, but just as suspots are pale in comparison to their surroundings despite their great heat, so Imagicon suffers for being in the company of so many good stories.

Two stars.

Mulligan, Come Home!, by Allen Kim Lang

Okay, Imagicon does have the virtue of being next to the only dud story in the issue.  Lang's tale is about a fix-it man dispatched by the government to find the elusive trickster and malcontent Mulligan Mondrian.  Along the way, we get Mondrian's full life history, detailing his start as a two-bit con man and womanizer and onward to his culmination as a larger-than-life, interplanetary con man and womanizer.

Some cute turns of phrase, but the story collapses under the weight of its own attempted cleverness.

Two stars.

The Age of the Pussyfoot (Part 3 of 3), by Frederik Pohl


by Wallace Wood

At last, we come to the thrilling conclusion of The Age of the Pussyfoot, the misadventures of a 20th Century man unfrozen after death in a 26th Century utopia.  When last we left Chuck Forrester, he had not only been fired by his alien employer, he had unwittingly been an accomplice to the alien's escape from Earth.  But when the Sirian left, presumably to return at the head of an invasion, he left the penniless Forrester nearly $100 million.

But profound wealth does little to assuage the guilt of the man out of time, especially when he is abandoned by all his newfound friends and his romantic partner.  Is he the lynchpin to humanity's salvation or its ruin?

A sparkling, farcical story, just serious enough to keep your attention, Pussycat reads like a Sheckley short story at novel length (Pohl succeeds here where Sheckley, himself, usually can't quite make long pieces work).

That said, it's a little too sketchy and silly to merit four stars.  Call it three and a half — worth reading, but probably not good enough to clinch a Galactic Star this year.

Summing Up

What a good issue this was!  3.4 stars is nothing to sneeze at.  In fact, it might well end up being the best mag of the month, though we still have five more titles to review.  If you're a long time Galaxy reader, enjoy this breath of fresh air.  And if you're new to Galaxy, perhaps this issue will tempt you into a subscription, just as that first issue did for me more than fifteen years ago…




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[January 6, 1966] Have Archaic and Beat It Too (February 1966 Amazing)

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by John Boston

Slog Through the Bog

Publisher Sol Cohen’s policy of filling his magazines with reprints from older issues continues and solidifies in the February Amazing.  All but two of the stories here are reprints (though some did not originate in Amazing).  The cover is a reprint too!  This vague and busy image titled Mizar in Ursa Major is from the back cover of Fantastic Adventures—Amazing’s companion fantasy magazine—for May 1946, by Frank R. Paul, long past his prime by then.


by Frank R. Paul

Other contents are limited to an editorial by Cohen that is so incoherent I won’t even try to recount his point, and another one-page letter column mostly praising Cohen’s “revitalization” of the magazine “in the old-time tradition” and rejection of the “obscure and often affected themes” of other magazines.  Also, somebody is looking for Jerry Siegel, creator of Superman, in order to make a movie of one of his old stories.

Onward to this mostly grim and laborious adventure.

Sunjammer, by Arthur C. Clarke


by Nodel

The issue opens with Arthur C. Clarke’s Sunjammer—a reprint from, of all places, Boys’ Life, the Boy Scouts magazine, in 1964.  It’s about a race to the Moon among vessels propelled by light pressure from the Sun on diaphanous sails hundreds of miles in area.  It’s not bad—Clarke doesn’t know how to be bad—but it reads a little too much like a lecture on practical astrophysics, and is much less lively than the last recent Clarke story I read, The Shining Ones, in the Judith Merril annual anthology.  Maybe Clarke thinks that writing for young people means he has to be more overtly educational than usual.  It’s reminiscent of his slightly pedantic Winston juvenile of the early ‘50s, Islands in the Sky.  Three stars.

[This is also what Mark Yon gave it when it came out last year in New Worlds (ed.)]

For Each Man Kills, by William F. Temple

After Clarke, things get overripe fast.  William F. Temple’s For Each Man Kills is from the March 1950 Amazing, right after editor Ray Palmer’s regime of “gimme bang-bang” ended.  Suddenly under new editor Howard Browne there was a sprinkling of more respectable bylines among the house pseudonyms, among them Kris Neville, Ward Moore, Fritz Leiber, and Temple—unfortunately, not bringing much improvement, at least in this case.

In For Each Man Kills, protagonist Russ is waiting for his inamorata Ellen Carr to finish dressing, in a room full of pictures of her.  Looking at a portrait, he thinks: “Da Vinci himself couldn’t have put all of Ellen on canvas.” There are a lot of photos, too, but “He realized at once that no photo could ever remotely compensate for her physical absence.” At this point I was tempted to burst into song: “It would take, I know/A Michaelangelo/ . . .to try and paint a portrait of my love.” But I resisted, and carried on.  Just as well, it’s a doozy.

This one-remove ogling is taking place in Pinetown, a town probably in the US, surrounded by desert, and further isolated by an impassable radioactive zone after a nuclear war.  (Pinetown?  Surrounded by desert?  Never mind, move on.) Russ is the Mayor’s right-hand man in trying to rebuild after the war’s destruction.  He asks Ellen to marry him.  But she turns him down.  She’s been swotting atomic theory and her application has just been granted to go work on the radiation-leaking atomic pile outside town.  A side effect of radiation exposure is that women turn into men.  He sees her home, beating up a guy who tries to molest her along the way.


by Leo Summers

The guy shows up next day and shoots at Russ, killing the Mayor instead.  Now Russ is the Mayor, working 18-hour days to restore Pinetown to something like its pre-war condition.  At the atomic pile, there’s no Ellen Carr any more, just a young Alan Carr; Ellen has changed sex, as feared.  Russ’s eye then falls on Maureen, 18, “petite, dainty, uncomplicated.” Before long they are engaged.  But then—Maureen turns up with leukemia.  And who knows the most about how to deal with it?  The young man from the pile, Alan Carr, who treats her with radioactive phosphorus.  Before long, Maureen is getting better, but asks Russ to break the engagement.  She’s in love with Alan Carr.  “The two girls he wanted to marry ended up marrying each other!”

Russ goes home and gets drunk for a week, and comes back to hear that the pile is almost out of fuel.  But there’s an unexploded atomic rocket in the radioactive belt around Pinetown.  Russ dispatches the most knowledgeable person, Alan Carr, to retrieve it so they can exploit it for fuel and keep Maureen in radioactive phosphorus.  But the rocket blows up, killing Alan, and Maureen is on her deathbed.  She tells Russ that Alan had told her to forget him and devote herself to Russ, then she dies.  Meanwhile, Russ has been given a letter, which proves to be from Alan, confessing to being a narcissistic personality and explaining his (her) conduct before and after the sex change.  There’s a buzz in the sky and an airplane appears; Pinetown’s isolation is over.  “Life was beginning for Pinetown.  It had ended for its Mayor.”

At this point the story’s provenance becomes clear.  Temple thought that he had spotted a marketing niche, and tried to sell US radio, and what there was of TV, on something new—a post-atomic soap opera!  And he wrote this story to salvage something from his labors when they laughed him out of their offices.  Two stars, barely, and an overwrought sigh, organ music swelling in the background.

The Runaway Skyscraper, by Murray Leinster

The Runaway Skyscraper is Murray Leinster’s first known SF publication and appeared in the February 22, 1919, issue of Argosy and Railroad Man’s Magazine, as that famous old publication was known for five months or so.  Here it is attributed to the third issue of Amazing, June 1926, where it was first reprinted.  It’s actually a bit of a revelation after the longueurs of Leinster’s recent serial Killer Ship.  A New York office building containing 2000 people suddenly begins racing into the past, with day and night flickering and clocks and watches running backwards (but not the characters’ alimentary processes or their chonological aging.  Go figure.).  The building fetches up in the Manhattan wilderness of thousands of years ago.


by Small

What to do?  Protagonist Arthur Chamberlain, along with the other sound go-getters among the menfolk, and assisted by his secretary the attractive Miss Woodward, calm the crowd, address the immediate problem of feeding 2,000 people (fortuitously assisted by passenger pigeons fatally colliding with the building’s windows) and setting up comfortable separate quarters for the women (men?  They can sleep on the floor somewhere).  It’s like The Swiss Family Robinson—never any serious danger, solutions present themselves almost as soon as problems appear.  This is all interspersed with the charmingly clumsy romance of Arthur and Miss Woodward, who are married by the end.  Overall, it’s quite a well executed piece of light entertainment—not surprising, since by this time Leinster had already published several dozen stories in magazines with titles like Snappy Stories, Saucy Stories, and Breezy Stories.

But (of course there’s a but).  The skyscraper alights right across the not-yet-existent Herald Square from an Indian village, complete with “brown-skinned Indians, utterly petrified with astonishment”; when the Office People approach, the Indians flee in terror, abandoning their homes and belongings.  They reappear in the story a couple of weeks later, and now they are working for the white folks, providing food mostly in return for trinkets, including a broken-down typewriter, which the “savages” cart away “triumphally.” Born to be simple, apparently.


by Frank R. Paul

It gets worse.  After the building has returned to its proper time through Arthur’s scheme of pumping a soap solution into the foundation, it transpires that one tenant, “a certain Isidore Eckstein, a dealer in jewelry novelties,” made some side deals with the Indians, trading necklaces, rings, and a dollar for title to Manhattan Island, and has now sued all landholders in Manhattan demanding rent from them. 

This is a bit malodorous even for 1919 and takes the shine off an otherwise accomplished piece of froth.  Two stars, tolerantly.

The Malignant Entity, by Otis Adelbert Kline


by Leo Morey

The Malignant Entity by Otis Adelbert Kline originated in Weird Tales for May-July 1924, but later appeared in Amazing for June 1926, and again in Amazing Stories Quarterly for Fall 1934.  It is surprisingly good for most of its length—surprisingly since Kline is best known for his knockoffs of Edgar Rice Burroughs, with titles like The Swordsman of Mars.  It’s quite formulaic: Scientist is found shockingly dead in his lab (a skeleton, fully dressed); narrator Evans is conversing with his friend Dr. Dorp when the police ask the doctor to come check out the deceased Professor Townsend, and Evans tags along.  The late Prof had been working on the generation of life from dead matter, and it appears he has succeeded too well; the investigation is all too successful, and they are confronted with the eponymous Entity.  The story is done primarily in dialogue, with the characters all explaining things to each other, but Kline has a knack for brisk banter with few words wasted, so it moves along nicely.  Unfortunately it goes on long enough to overstay its welcome, and gets a bit ridiculous towards the end, sliding down to two stars.

It Will Grow On You

Two of this issue’s stories focus on growth of one sort or another, both sorts to be avoided by the prudent.

The Man from the Atom, by G. Peyton Wertenbaker

G. Peyton Wertenbaker’s The Man from the Atom is credited to the first, April 1926, issue of Amazing, but originated in the August 1923 Science and Invention.  That was another of Hugo Gernsback’s magazines, started in 1913 as Electrical Experimenter, changing to Science and Invention in 1923 and continuing to 1931.  It published occasional fiction early on, and by 1920 was running one or two stories in each issue.  The August 1923 issue, with six stories including Wertenbaker’s, was labelled the “Scientific Fiction Number,” and could be seen as a dry run for Amazing.


by Howard V. Brown

Wertenbaker was one of the early Amazing’s most capable writers; see The Chamber of Life, reprinted during the Cele Lalli regime.  Unfortunately, The Man from the Atom is among his juvenilia; he would have been 16 when it was published.  It shows.  The story is badly overwritten.  The opening lines: “I am a lost soul, and I am homesick.  Yes, homesick!  Yet how vain is homesickness when one is without a home!” The plot is canonical for its time.  The narrator’s friend, Professor Martyn, invites him over to try out his new invention, which can shrink or enlarge a person with the push of a button.  Shrinkage is possible because “an object may be divided in half forever, as you have learned in high school, without being entirely exhausted.” (They never taught me that in high school.  What else are they hiding from me?) Growth is accomplished by extracting atoms from the air, which the machine “converts, by a reverse method from the first,” into atoms suitable for supplementing the various substances of the body. 

So the narrator dons what amounts to a space suit, pushes the expansion button, and off he goes, as the Professor hastily drives off to avoid the expansion of the narrator’s feet.  As he expands into space, and Earth shrinks to a relative diameter of a few feet, whoops!  “My feet slipped off, suddenly, and I was lying absolutely motionless, powerless to move, in space!” Also, so much for the Western Hemisphere, though the author doesn’t mention that.  Only after further observation of the wonders of the shrinking heavens, and finding himself on a planet and realizing his world is likely an atom of this one, does he try to go back, retracing his . . . well, not exactly steps . . . but the Sun is not there!  He realizes that his growth in size brought an acceleration of time, and home is trillions of centuries in the past.  So he fetches up on an available planet.  “I live here on sufferance, as an ignorant African might have lived in an incomprehensible, to him, London.  A strange creature, to play with and to be played with by children.  A clown . . . a savage!”


by Frank R. Paul

Of course all this makes very little sense even in its own terms.  For example, expansion is supposedly made possible by converting atoms from the air, but how did the narrator grow beyond the size of the known cosmos with only the atoms in his airtight suit and the small tank of compressed air attached to it?  One could go on, but why bother?  This relic should have stayed buried.  One star.

Moss Island, by Carl Jacobi

Another kind of growth appears in Moss Island, by Carl Jacobi, from the Winter 1932 Amazing Stories Quarterly, but revised from something called The Quest, May 1930.  Jacobi was an all-around pulpster through the 1930s and into the ‘40s, but settled into the SF/F/weird magazines by the mid-‘40s, and seems to have mostly hung it up late in the ‘50s.  Protagonist goes to do some geological surveying on the island, which is off New Brunswick and inhabited only by trees and other vegetation, Chiseling away, he finds a pocket of mucilaginous (author’s word!) brown stuff, and recognizes it as Muscivol, a substance identified by Professor Monroe at his college (another Professor!  Anyone who’s read this far should realize that they always mean trouble).  Muscivol contains “all the elements of growth”—a lot of growth.  So protagonist fills up his Thermos bottle with the stuff. 


by Leo Morey

Pressing into the forested interior, he finds a lot of moss and drips a little Muscivol on it.  The moss leaps upward so fast that he trips and spills the Thermos contents.  “A great shudder ran through the moss.  A sobbing sigh came from its grasses.  And then with a roar, the rootlets gouged down into the ground, tore at the soil, and the plant with a mighty hiss raced upward, five feet, ten feet.  The tendrils swelled as though filled with pressure, became fat, purulent, octopus folds.  Like the undulations of some titanic marine plant the white coils waved and lashed the air.  Up they lunged, the growth rate multiplied ten thousand times.”

Protagonist runs like hell, with the moss, expanding like the Man from the Atom, hot on his heels.  Fortunately he is able to get down a cliff where his hired boatman is waiting for him, and escapes.  The boatman can’t see the giant wall of moss through the fog that has rolled in, so, as usual in stories of this period, the horror is neatly contained.  It’s less ridiculous than Wertenbaker’s story, but still formulaic, and undistinguished in execution.  Two stars.

The Plutonian Drug, by Clark Ashton Smith

Next, Clark Ashton Smith!  A legendary figure in the 1930s Weird Tales pantheon, with H.P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard.  However, The Plutonian Drug—from the September 1934 Amazing, Smith’s only story in the magazine—is much more pedestrian than either Smith’s usual extravagant titles (The City of the Singing Flame and the like) or his usual florid style.  Balcoth the sculptor is talking with his friend Dr. Manners (not a Professor, but just as dangerous), who discourses at length on interplanetary drugs. He offers Balcoth some plutonium, a drug from Pluto, which he promptly scarfs down, after being assured it will wear off quickly and will not affect his next appointment.  (This is obviously not the plutonium that we have learned to know and love; element 94 was not isolated and named until late 1940 or early 1941.) What this plutonium does is lay out the events of one’s past and future in an array in the mind’s eye, past on the left, future on the right.  For Balcoth, the right-hand range is very short for no apparent reason, and when he leaves and the reason is revealed, it is neither surprising nor interesting.  This story is less obscure than most others in this issue; I was mildly bored by it for the first time in 1958, in the Berkley paperback of August Derleth’s anthology The Outer Reaches.  Two stars, barely.

In with the New

Now to the stories that are original with this issue.

Pressure, by Arthur Porges

Arthur Porges’s Pressure is another Ensign De Ruyter exercise in Fun with Fifth-Grade Science, in which the Ensign figures out how to solve the characters’ problem by harnessing the weight of a large quantity of mercury.  One star as usual.

Mute Milton, by Harry Harrison

Harry Harrison’s Mute Milton is an SF story about Jim Crow, very simple and not the least bit subtle. A professor—this time, the good kind—at one of the South’s Negro colleges is on his way home by bus, carrying a rather important invention, and has a glancing encounter with the police and the racial attitudes that he has been navigating all his life.  He meets another Negro who has aroused even more official ire, and gets fatally in the way when the police catch up to them.  The invention gets stepped on.  It’s a crude and brutal story about a crude and brutal reality that SF writers generally acknowledge only at arms-length and metaphorically.  The only actual reference to contemporary events is to the Freedom Riders, whose activities began and ended in 1961.  I’ll bet this story was written then or shortly after, rejected all around, and has only found a publisher now that there’s a new regime at Amazing.  Good for them, for a change.  Four stars.

Summing Up

Some of the old stuff is well worth reading.  This isn’t it.  The older reprinted stories are variously stale, cliched, boring, bigoted, and/or nonsensical to one degree or another.  You can find something good to say about some of them (how I struggled), but they’re still mostly a waste of time.  The best things in the issue are the new story by Harry Harrison and the almost new one by Arthur C. Clarke.  If Amazing’s reprint policy were an experiment, at this point I would call it a failure.  Unfortunately it doesn’t look like an experiment.  The next issue—April 1966, the 40th anniversary issue—will be nothing but reprints.

[We only give you the plum assignments, John! Or perhaps this is a prune… (ed.)]




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[January 4, 1966] Keep Watching the Skies (February 1966 IF)

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by David Levinson

I’m sure many of the Journey’s readers will remember the 1951 film The Thing from Another World, which featured Marshal Dillon himself, James Arness, as an alien super-carrot. Based loosely on John Campbell’s novella Who Goes There?, it’s a fine piece of Red Scare paranoia, though not quite as good as Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Once the heroes have defeated the alien menace, reporter Ned “Scotty” Scott broadcasts a warning to the world to “Keep watching the skies!”

Great Balls of Fire

1965 has been a good year for watching the skies. From the return of American astronauts to space after a hiatus to the brilliant display of Comet Ikeya-Seki. The year wrapped up spectacularly in December. As my colleague Victoria Silverwolf reported, a brilliant fireball shot through the heavens over Ontario, Michigan and Ohio before crashing near Kecksburg, Pennsylvania. Despite rumors, no sign has been found of Russian satellites or little green men. Then on Christmas Eve, a meteor exploded over the village of Barwell, England. This time numerous pieces made their way to Earth. No one was injured, but there was some property damage. Pieces have been found, confirming the object was a stony meteorite of the sort known as a chondrite.


Meteorite hunters descend on Barwell.

Death from above and below

There’s plenty of menace from the skies in this month’s IF. Actually, the threat is mostly humans attacking other humans, but not always. Sometimes it’s humans attacking aliens.


A triphib attacks. The story isn’t as Burroughs-esque as you might think. Art by Pederson.

Continue reading [January 4, 1966] Keep Watching the Skies (February 1966 IF) →

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Serial

[December 31, 1965] Untermag (January 1966 Analog

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by Gideon Marcus

[Time is running out to get your Worldcon membership!  Register here to be able to vote for the Hugos next year.]

Ubermensch

There's no question that John W. Campbell's got an axe to grind.  Not too long ago, he wrote an editorial about how the bipedal humanoid form, the best, most efficient, most effective of body types, was the natural end result of evolution on an Earthlike planet.  In another screed, he opined that slavery warn't so bad, and that Black Americans did better ante-bellum than we think.

These aren't anomalies: from what Isaac Asimov and others have said (I've never met John personally), the editor of Analog has some very fixed views of the world, and they include a belief in a hierarchy of races, a natural superiority of some to others.

Because of this, the stories in his magazine tend to reflect this view, one way or another.  Either John adds these elements in post-production, or his authors know to include them as a way to guarantee a sale. Analog is a prestige publication, after all.

And lest you think that's John's quaint views are simply emblematic of the less-than-enlightened times we live in, I will simply point out that we review all science fiction mags at the Journey, and Analog definitely is the odd man out.

Anyway, this month's magazine is a particularly egregious example of the Campbellian Mystique.  Let's dig in, shall we?

Sein Kampf


by Kelly Freas

Second Seeded, by R. C. FitzPatrick


by Kelly Freas

In FitzPatrick's earlier story Half a Loaf, we were introduced to a revolutionary institute whose surgeons could transplant a healthy mind from a ruined body into the healthy body of a mental vegetable.  The story explored some of the ethical concerns involved and, while it didn't hit it out of the park, it was pretty interesting.

The sequel is dreadful.

A Marine Major, name of Adams, is killed along with his wife in action in Borneo.  Their infant son becomes brain dead from hypoxia, all hope of regaining cognitive functions lost.  Around the same time, the infant son of two concert pianists is in a car accident that kills his parents and leaves him a quadriplegic.  Thus, the stage is set for a human brain transplant; the new wrinkle is that the patient won't have memory of the event, will be raised by the extended Adams clan.

This would be fine, even interesting save for the endless screeds in favor of eugenics that come out of the mouths of the protagonist.  The basic argument is that there aren't enough "Great Men" in the world as it is (women, explicitly, don't count) so saving as many as possible through this surgical technique is of utmost importance.  Beyond that, it's vital that the transplanted infant brain be an Adams because the Adams family is amazing and has been so since the time of the Revolution.  As an "Adams," the pianist boy will not only be an exemplary person because his parents were prodigies, but his gonads will house Adams sperm, which will ensure the Adams genes continue.  The espouser of this view gets a bit vague and contradictory when asked if it's the actual genetics or simply the continuity of family that ensures the Adamses produce a Great Man every generation, but it's clear he tends toward the former (and this is borne out by events in the story). 

Two stars rather than one, because it's not badly written.  But yech.

Now, since I had to pay to read FitzPatrick and Campbell's offensive rant, you can get mine for free.  In my experience, all human beings are of roughly equal potential.  Sure, there are smart ones and stupid ones — abilities distribute in bell curves — but whether a person will be smart or stupid does not correlate to genetics.  This means that everyone, given resources and opportunity, can develop to the fullest of their physical capabilities.  They can be as smart, strong, and talented as is possible for them. 

There are almost three billion people on this planet.  Some of them are stupid.  Most of them are average.  Some of them are brilliant.  If we want more "Great Men", there are much better ways of growing them than cherry picking a few children with presidential surnames. 

One is to raise the standard of living for everyone so that all children have the ability to develop to their full potential.  LBJ has the right idea with his Great Society; I expect the next generation will see a lot more geniuses (and happiness) in Appalachia. 

Another is to broaden the pool from which "Great Men" are drawn.  Here's a crazy thought: what if women weren't excluded from the pool?  Wouldn't that, in and of itself, double the number of Great "Men"?  And indeed, that's just what's started to happen already.  I have written about the women scientists and engineers involved in space exploration.  Their work has been critical to the success of our space-related endeavors, and there is no guarantee that their contributions would have (or could have) been made by anyone else, at least at that juncture in history.

So I disagree with the the theme of Second Seeded.  Like all bad philosophies, it collapses in the face of empirical evidence to the contrary.  And on a related note, I disagree that future Presidents of the United States will all have to have socially acceptable WASP names like Adams, Lincoln, and Jackson (as one of the characters opines in the story).  Does anyone remember the fellow with the funny name of "Eisenhower"?  Or the Irish Catholic name of "Kennedy"?

I fully believe that we'll have a President in my lifetime with the "exotic" name of Takahashi, Singh, or Okoye.  Perhaps her first name will be Mildred.

Untropy, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

Shaggy dog tale about a trading vessel that gets lost in hyperspace in a zone where the laws of probability leave nothing to chance.  The way they get back is obvious, and the story is rather trivial, but it's not bad reading.

Three stars.

A Bit Player, by Lyle R. Hamilton

All about the evolution of telemetry and its application to missiles and space travel.  Long, engaging, but way too high level for me (and I majored in astrophysics!) it will probably go over your head as well.

Three stars.

Kelvin Throop Rudes Again!, by E. Silverman

My outspoken nephew, David, has a habit of dashing out discourteous memos when he's peeved.  He calls them "nastygrams".  In Throop, new author Silverman offers up a collection of memos (it's not really an epistolary story as there's no story) of a middle manager kvetching at subordinates and vendors.

Not science fiction.  Not good.  One star.

Beehive (Part 2 of 2), by Mack Reynolds


by Kelly Freas

And, at last, the conclusion of Beehive, which began last issue.  Genetics takes the fore again when we learn that the enemy "Dawnworlders" have divided themselves into rigid castes, and in so doing, have thus been able to progress to tremendous technological heights.  Of course, if non-caste human beings had been given millions of years to accomplish the same feats, I'm sure we could have…

Anyway, the second half of the story is just as glib and silly as the first, with lots of speeches and exposition.  I did appreciate that there was some self awareness that Section G of the United Planets is as much a dictatorship as Phrygia, home of Baron Max, the would-be galactic Mussolini.  This was alloyed by the constant reinforcement that the protagonist's sidekick is an Indian.  He's referred to as "the Indian" and he uses the words "squaw," "scalp," and "firewater," whenever he can.

This isn't the first time Mack Reynolds has had trouble with this particular ethnicity.

Anyway, there are some interesting Laumeresque bits, but for the most part, this is a Reynolds that can be skipped.

Two stars.

Calculating the damage

Feeding the pages of the January 1966 Analog into the Star-o-meter (and setting the machine to "destroy copy after processing") I get a result of 2.3 stars.  Depressingly, I'm sure this will be one of the more popular issues of the magazine this year.

How did the other mags fare this month?  Well, Worlds of Tomorrow and New Worlds both scored 3.3 stars.  The less daring Science Fantasy got 2.8 as did IF, even though the latter was buouyed by the new Heinlein serial.  Fantasy & Science Fiction turned in a disappointing 2.5 star performance, and the mostly reprints Fantastic barely got 2.4.

They were still all better than Analog.

Speaking of shallow selection pools, women continue to be barely represented, producing two of 36 fiction pieces for a whopping 5.5% share.  Better than the 0% of last month, I suppose.  All told, the truly good stories this month would struggle to fill the pages of IF, much less a bigger mag like Galaxy. 

Well, tomorrow is a new year.  Perhaps Janus will favor us with auspicious auguries, and our fortunes will turn around.  And hey…Campbell won't live forever.

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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[December 28, 1965] God-Birds and Dreams Science Fantasy and New Worlds, January 1966

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

It’s that strange time of the year. I’m currently typing this a few days just after Christmas 1965 (hope it was a good one for you!), although the magazines are all dated January 1966, of course, and I suspect many of you will be reading this and the magazines in 1966!! So, whilst I’m still celebrating Christmas, and thinking back over the year gone by, we are also looking forward to new things in 1966.

It’s almost as if it was science fiction, isn’t it?

Anyway, the postman has managed to deliver me two magazines in the Christmas mail. Perhaps unsurprisingly by now, the issue that arrived first in the post this month was Science Fantasy, so I’ll start there first.

Regular readers will know that I have been moaning about these covers for a while now. As you can see, this one is cheap-looking and not reversed the trend – what is that? A tree slice? A sliver of onion? I’m almost beginning to miss those Keith Roberts covers – but wait! This is a Roberts cover, clearly one from the bottom of his artist’s paintbox.

This month’s Editorial is a little unusual. It is in the form of an open letter, with responses from Kyril, to Mr. Chris Priest, a reader who has graced the letters pages of both magazines in recent years. It immediately covers one of the issues given thought here since it was put under new management – namely, that a letter column is, to quote, “an absolute necessity.”

Using references to recent letters, Chris makes three points. Firstly, Brian Stableford’s examination of what is sf (reviewed here back in the November 1965 issue) boiled down to “it is what it is, and when it is, we know.” Secondly, Ken Slater’s letter (in the same issue of Science Fantasy ) about the literary standard of sf suggests that Kyril’s policies on this being “uncertain”. Thirdly, Science Fantasy seems to combine both modern, cutting-edge stories and yet persists in publishing ” stories that went out of vogue many many years ago.” Coincidentally, this was something I accused the magazine of last month with its publication of Harry Harrison’s Plague from Space.

Whilst I’m not sure dissecting one letter in this way is always advisable, it is interesting. The editorial is short, but Kyril replies with thought and humour.

To the actual stories.

The God-Birds of Glentallach, by John Rackham

It feels like it has been a while since we’ve seen John in either Science Fantasy or New Worlds, although he was last seen in the August 1965 issue of with A Way With Animals. I believe that he has been a regular contributor to John Carnell’s New Writings in SF in the meantime.

Here he tells us the story of Andrew Malcolm, recently-made Laird of Glentallach, who allows an archaeological dig on what is now his land and with the discovery of a mysterious box discovers that an ancient myth may have more in it than he imagined.

It is a good solid tale, which reminded me of Fritz Lieber stories in a style not that different from old issues of Weird Tales. This seems to be exactly what Chris Priest was writing about in his letter about old-style storytelling. And yet, I quite liked it. 3 out of 5.

Sealed Capsule, by Edward Mackin

And this is also the return of a veteran regular, though not seen since April 1965’s New Worlds. Sealed Capsule (a rather appropriate title considering what happens in the previous story!) is the story of what could happen if you coop up men in a sealed spaceship together for six months on the way to Alpha Centauri. Clue: it doesn’t end well, especially when you add homemade poteen and prescription medicines to the plot. Another “OK” story, which reads well but doesn’t tell the reader anything new. 3 out of 5.

“In Vino Veritas”, by E. C. Tubb

Another old hand, clearly on a roll, as he was in both magazines last month – and here he is again. We will read another from E. C. in New Worlds later, as well.

Just to clarify for the non-Latin readers, “In Vino Veritas” means “In wine, truth”, which seems appropriate for many a writer, inspired by the drinking of the stuff! Claus Heston is a writer who, in an attempt to pay his bills and clear his writers block, sets forth to use alcohol and a magic potion to help him regain his mojo. It doesn’t quite work, but there is a revelation that forms the end of the story. 3 out of 5.

The Satyrian Games, by D. J. Gibbs

A writer new to me. Johnny Collins is a reporter sent to commentate on the mysterious Annual Games on Satyrus. With the offer of a bonus, Johnny and photographer Randy Hill are prepared to spend two weeks on Satyrus, despite the rumours of danger that have been reported on before. Meeting King Kopulus, the two Terrans are treated as VIPs, which is a little unusual for reporters, until the true reason is revealed – the next day they are to be put to combat against athletic Satyrian females as a test of manhood. We find out that it is a tough life being a Breeder, and in the end the King is beaten in a competition between himself and the appropriately named Randy to copulate with as many women as possible.

In case you didn’t guess, this one reads like a satire of a substandard story from the pulps of the 1930s. If the attempt at humour is the point, it is a weak point, and clumsily done. Overall, The Satyrian Games feels like it is here as a result of the Editor’s desperation. 2 out of 5.

For One of These, by Daphne Castell

Another story by Daphne after her debut in New Worlds in October. It is noticeable how both magazines have embraced the issue of there being a lack of women writers this year.

This is a story about a baby that Anna and her mother take in after the parents are killed in a road accident near their home. In the time it takes for help to arrive, Anna becomes bonded with the infant, even though it bites her and draws blood. The revelation is then that the baby, and the parents who were killed, are aliens in disguise. The Military Intelligence team who then arrive take Anna and her family into protective custody. Anna is told that the baby alien seems to derive its food from the mother’s blood – a space vampire, if you like. (The baby is even referred to at one point as “Poor little Dracula.”)

The story ends with Anna and two other ‘nurses’ taking on the responsibility of helping feed the child, until the authorities can work out what to do, waiting for others of the same race to arrive. Solidly told, but again, nothing exceptional. 3 out of 5.

The Plague from Space (part 2 of 3) , by Harry Harrison

The second part of this serial carries on pretty much as we left off, with Doctors Sam Bertolli and Nita Mendel trying to slow down the spread of the disease in New York brought back from Space by the spaceship Pericles. At the start of this second part, Sam is rushed to Stonebridge where it is rumoured that there might be a possible cure. The rumour is sadly mistaken, but Sam finds himself in a gun battle between his team and a group of armed militia who think that their helicopter is a means of escaping the plague.

Eventually returning back to the city, Sam is contacted by Nita, who tells him that the disease is mutating and that the samples they have previously taken do not survive in Jupiter-like conditions. The point is that the disease seems to be human-based and is mutating to infect other animals, such as dogs.

Sam and Nita find themselves side-lined for political reasons, so in protest they sneak themselves into an United Nations World Health meeting. There a decision is made to quarantine and then cleanse the worst part of the city by dosing it with radioactive material, leaving nothing alive.

Lots of running about and, as is typical for a middle part of a story, lots of exposition. Like last month, a tale told well but with little to elevate it to best-seller material. 3 out of 5.

Summing up Science Fantasy

Science Fantasy continues to play safe this month, continuing to rely on regular seasoned writers. Looking at the names returning, it is almost as if editor Kyril has fallen back on old ways and simply lifted work in the slush pile from writers from the old-school Carnell-era New Worlds. This may be intentional, but the overall impression I get is that of a magazine in a holding pattern, seemingly determined not to move forward. Surprisingly mundane.

Onto this month’s New Worlds.

The Second Issue At Hand

The editorial this month takes as its contentious starting point the idea, from James Colvin’s serial, that Science is the New Religion, before going further to say that in this wonderful world of the New Wave writing we are currently in, Science is the only prism through which Man can focus upon his future hopes and fears. It is a bold and deliberately argumentative point, but one which seems rather old-fashioned. I’m sure it was a point being made back in the early years of Jules Verne and H. G. Wells. Nevertheless, it is a discussion made with passion and enthusiasm.

To the stories!

The Wrecks of Time (Part 3 of 3)), by James Colvin

Last month’s part of this serial was clearly a middle part, all rushing about with no resolution. In this third and final part, Professor Faustaff and his faithful friends have appeared on the newly-created Earth Zero, with his enemies Steifflomeis and Cardinal Orelli.

Here the story becomes even more fractured and diluted. On arriving at Earth-Zero, Steifflomeis attempts to rally Faustaff to his cause but is turned down. There is a standoff between Faustaff’s team and Orelli’s men before Faustaff, with Nancy Hunt and Gordon Ogg, escapes in a car. They reach what appears at first to be a garbage dump but is actually made up of new-looking but random objects from different times – an arquebus, a Chinese kite, a Fokker triplane, for example. Presumably these are the "Wrecks of Time" of the title?

Faustaff realises that Maggy White may be the answer to his problems. Like Steifflomeis she appears to be working for the Principals, a set of immortals who created the multiple Earths and now seem to be involved in some sort of multidimensional game across Space and Time.

This also explains the increasingly bizarre nature of the story. Faustaff returns to Orelli’s cathedral to find Orelli crucified, symbolising the death of Religion that Moorcock talked of in his Editorial. Steifflomeis explains that this is part of an Activation Ritual that all of the newly-formed planets must go through. These appear to Faustaff in a dream-like state.

Faustaff sees a ritual sacrifice, a symbolism of the primitive people’s fears and wishes. He chases after Steifflomeis to find Maggy Smith in some kind of medieval-esque Queen of Darkness ritual. Nancy and Ogg are elsewhere in another ritual, in Hollywood, which causes Faustaff to laugh at the ludicrousness of the situation, to which I could only agree. Steifflomeis reappears and challenges Ogg to a duel.

The story at this point seems to make little sense, although there is an attempt to point out that the rituals seem to be repeated dream-like events needed as simulations for the principals to activate the planet. Maggy kills Steifflomeis, as he is blamed for the failure of this activation. Leaving the team at a hospital to tend Orelli, Maggy then takes Faustaff to meet the principals. We finish with a huge exposition as the principals explain the reasons for the simulations, although at this point I was beginning to lose interest. It seems that all of this is some cosmic joke. However, there is a happy ending.

After a great start and a lot of potential, this series appears to end with a confusing jumble of increasingly erratic sequences and an all-too convenient solution. A lot of noise but despite the author clearly thinking that it has, not a lot of sense. 3 out of 5.

The Case, by Peter Redgrove

Oh, God – poetry. Perhaps one of the most underwritten and over-appreciated forms of the English language, the first page made my heart sink. But I need to put my personal prejudices aside, and I do think that it is good to see the magazine push the boundaries a little and include something a bit different this month. Even if it is not to my own tastes. 3 out of 5.


Illustration by David Kearn

The Failures, by Charles Platt

Another regular author this month. It is very brave to title a story The Failures, isn’t it? It is almost as if it is taunting me to say something like how much of a failure this story is. Well, it’s not quite as bad as all of that. But it didn’t entirely work for me.

It seems to cover similar ground to Platt’s recent story The Lone Zone, , in that it deals with disaffected young adults. Last time it was some kind of future apocalypse, this time it is about the near future, although it is full of things from the present as well. Greg meets Cathy Grant at a Press party for his band, the Ephemerals. At first glance it all seems good – fast car, music being played on the radio, nice clothes. However, as the story crawls through a simulacrum of 1960s culture with its litany of dodgy characters, drugs, bad sex and a never-ending search for thrills, the point seems to be that such a seemingly luxurious life can end up being monotonous and unfulfilling, Really, life is awful and there’s nothing you or I can do about it. All rather depressing, which I suspect is the point. 3 out of 5.

Love Is an Imaginary Number, by Roger Zelazny

This is perhaps the story I was looking forward to reading most this month. American Roger has been blazing a trail over with you in the States and seems to be seen as an American writer firmly coming to grips with what we are calling ‘the New Wave’. His writing, what I have read of it so far, is usually imaginative, intelligent and deals with those themes of the softer sciences and inner space so beloved of the new breed of writers.

Like Charles Platt’s story, this is another one that begins in a seemingly positive manner. It is a fast-paced story of an unnamed character, told in the first person, who escapes from a prison and his jailor Stella. A renegade who runs across different landscapes, chased by villains who want to do him harm. In the end, he is bolted down and tortured.

In precis this story sounds like a lot of others. What such a summary doesn’t show is the way the prose is written – a dazzlingly precise yet grandly lyrical piece of writing that pulls you in and doesn’t let you leave until the end. This, when compared with the Colvin story, showed me what a dazzlingly prosed chase story could be like when combined with a plot that feels like a Greek myth combined with a Fantasy plot. As good as I hoped it would be. 4 out of 5.

Mouth of Hell, by David I Masson

And this is the other story I was looking forward to reading this month. David made quite an impression on me with his startlingly clever story Traveller’s Rest in the New Worlds issue of September 1965. This is quite different, yet just as brilliant. It is a story of an expedition to a place initially unknown but seems like somewhere we know. It reminded me a little of Lovecraft’s In the Mountains of Madness, but as the story progresses it becomes more science fictional. The expedition continues to traverse a continuous down-slope, first with vehicles and then on foot. The three expeditioners who continue – with the great names Mehhtumm, ’Ossnaal and Ghuddup – experience many challenges with increased heat and pressure. ‘Ossnaal has a fit and upon a rescue attempt one of the group is killed and another goes missing.

The next day, another trio, led by the team leader Kettass but with oxygen, manages to get further, but the death of another of the team leads to the search being abandoned.

There is then a couple of postscripts. Five years later Kettass returns with two VTOL craft and descend into the abyss, filming for a documentary. Their first attempt is deeper, yet defeated. On the second attempt one of the vehicles is crushed by the pressure 25 kilometres down and the second expedition is halted.

Thirty years after that. Kettass, now a septuagenarian, is taken down via pressured cable railway. The story ends by explaining that despite further deaths the area will eventually become a tourist resort with a game reserve and a sanatorium. Technology and Man’s endeavours have eventually tamed the challenges of the mysterious hole.

I love the fact that this is so different to Traveller’s Rest and yet so good. It may not be quite as unique as Traveller’s Rest was, but it is literate and memorable, with an unusual setting. This is a Boys Own adventure story rewritten for intelligent adults. 4 out of 5.


Illustration by James Cawthorn

Anne, by E. C. Tubb

What’s this? Another story by the prolific E. C. Tubb? This is a brief yet memorable story, written in a different style to his usual about a dying Warrior in his also dying spaceship who in his pain dreams of a different place, with Anne. It made me think that it was a science fictional version of the Brian Aldiss story The Day of the Doomed King, back in the November 1965 issue of Science Fantasy. 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews, Articles and Letters

Them As Can, Does, by John Brunner

Oh, look – an article from Mr. Brunner, after his allegedly impressive sparring with John W. Campbell at the recent Worldcon.

Fellow traveller Gideon has suggested before that there are two or three types of Brunner writing that we see. So, which Brunner do we have here? It is perhaps a little unfair to use such comments on a non-fiction article about how to get published. But the article is faintly amusing, makes its point well with some dignity and some sardonic wit that feels like it is based on experience. It can be summed us as “It’s not easy.” 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews

And so after the serial, we now get the Book Review. James Colvin reviews Bill, the Galactic Hero with the sort of praise expected from the editor of the magazine himself. Colvin also weirdly reviews himself when he reviews Mike Moorcock’s The Fireclown. This can be a little confusing, especially when Colvin takes Moorcock to task for some of his writing, as he does here.

I can’t help feeling that Moorcock is laughing at us as he does this, although I guess that those of us in the know about such things may find it rather irreverent and amusing.

In the letters pages there is a point made about the price going up being a good thing but that there should also be more short stories and less serials, which can be bought as novels at anytime. The second letter suggests that as Analog is “the engineer’s magazine”, then New Worlds is “the undertakers’ magazine”, such is the magazine’s preoccupation with gloom and death. Must admit that I don’t entirely disagree with that one – it is something I’ve noticed myself recently.

Summing up New Worlds

Having said that the last issue of New Worlds was unmemorable, this one is a considerable improvement. The Zelazny story is great, as is the very different Masson story, which is perhaps my favourite story of the month.

I should give credit for the poetry, even when I didn’t like it. There are still a few of the regular contributors as well, but I am pleased that this is a step in the right direction, pushing the genre whilst at the same time maintaining some connections to the past.

 

Summing up overall

And with that, it should not be a surprise that the ‘winner’ this month for me is New Worlds.

With Christmas just gone, it means that I must wish you all the best for what is left of the Festive season and indeed for the New Year. 1965 has been shown to be an interesting one for the Brit magazines and despite my grumbles I can’t see 1966 being any different. (If you haven't seen it yet, Judith Merril makes some astute comments about it in this month's Magazine of Fantasy & SF that are worth a read.) Here’s hoping!

Until the next…



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Magazine/Anthology

[December 18, 1965] Bulges and Depressions (January 1966 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Blitzkrieg

Sometimes war is a crackling thing, a coiled spring of conflict that sees an enemy pouncing on and through a hapless foe.  Such a campaign marked the German invasion of France through the "impassable" Ardennes forest in May 1940; a similar campaign occurred in December 1944 by the same combatants at the same spot.

They say, "Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me," and indeed the Americans and British soldiers in France should have known better than to pooh pooh the idea of a Wehrmacht onslaught at exactly the same location they'd used four years prior.  Nevertheless, it happened, the Nazis made a big indentation in the Allied lines, and so "The Battle of the Bulge" forever got its name.

There's little surprise that Avalon Hill has made a game out of the battle.  It's a fight with a lot of appeal (odious ideologies aside): As the Germans, there's the hope that enough momentum will push the tide of your forces to the coast, splitting the Allies irrevocably.  As the Allies, there's the desperate holding action while you wait for reinforcements to gird the lines and throw back the Hun horde.

This year, a new war epic debuted on the 21st anniversary of the start of the battle simply called The Battle of the Bulge.  Of course, we drove up to Los Angeles on the new interstate to see it.  Verdict: not bad, though it's always a little disorienting to see American tanks play the role of German panzers. 

To truly mark the occasion, we also started another game of Battle of the Bulge, this time switching sides.  We're playing it out day by day, exactly matching the turns of the game to the days they represented.  This time-shifted experience is actually a lot of fun.  I wonder if I can find other opportunities to do it…

Sitzkrieg

If The Battle of the Bulge represents the essence of the blitzkrieg, this month's Fantasy and Science Fiction is a recreation of World War 1 — overlong, with little movement, ultimately pointless.  Such a sad contrast to last month's issue, which was the best in years.  Ah, such are the vicissitudes of war.  Come slog along with me, would you?


by Jack Gaughan

L'Arc De Jeanne, by Robert F. Young

We start with the story illustrated on the front cover, sort of a cross between Young's science fiction-tinged fables and actual SF.  The rapacious O'Riordan the Reorganizer, a would-be tyrant of the Terran Empire, invades the world of Ciel Bleu only to be thwarted by a young virgin with a bow and arrow named Jeanne.  Her arrows, by the way, create torrential thunderstorms.

Rather than continue a hopeless fight, O'Riordan retreats his forces, instead dispatching a handsome young fellow to seduce and capture the Maiden of New New Orleans before she can fully rally the planet's defenses.

Like most Young stories, it is a bit rambling and sentimental, but it avoids the over-saccharine nature of his worst works (while missing the sublime levels of his best).  It also takes a while to get going, but I enjoyed it well enough by the end.

Three stars.


by Gahan Wilson

Beaulieu, by Margaret St. Clair

A young man on the edge of a losing battle with a fatal disease is picked up by an enigmatic woman.  Will she be able to drive him down the wind in the road that leads to an alternate universe where things have gone right instead of tragically wrong?

A nice psychological piece.  Three stars.

Books, by Judith Merril

I don't usually review the reviews, but Merril's column is especially good this month, describing fandom and publishing in the United Kingdom, as well as devoting inches to Aldiss and Ballard.  Worth a read (Mark Yon, are you reading?)

To the Rescue, by Ron Goulart

Space private dick wrestles with his sentient car companion, which is suffering a progressive nervous breakdown.  Is the detective just unlucky?  Or is his dissatisfaction with his chosen profession unlocking his psychic abilities?

Perhaps better suited to Analog, it's the kind of frivolous story I had to keep revisiting to remember just what had happened.

Two stars.

The Most Wonderful News, by Len Guttridge

A Welshman with a hospital-bound wife is desperate for news, any news, which he can relate to her on this week's visit.  When all the usual sources dry up, he is left with one tidbit that is certifiably out of this world.

This story just goes on and on, and you won't be at all surprised by the ending.  Two stars.

Smog, by Theodore L. Thomas

After a nice summary of what smog is, Thomas suggests using additives to combat automotive emissions rather than filters or oxidizers.  I'm not sure how this makes any sense; oxidizers are additives.  Moreover, I'm not sure one could make an emission less harmful than the carbon dioxide and water a catalytic converter produces (in the short term — in the long term, of course, we could see an accelerated global greenhouse effect).

So two stars, and learn some chemistry, Ted.

Survey of the Third Planet, by Keith Roberts

Greedy aliens arrive on Earth to add it to their collection of worlds only to be repulsed by the doughty primitives.  The gimmick to the story is the revelation of who the primitives actually are.

Shrug.  We saw this trick in Garrett's Despoiler of the Golden Empire, and I didn't like it much there, either.

Two stars.

The Proton-Reckoner, by Isaac Asimov

Here's a fun article about how big Archimedes thought the universe was, how big the universe actually is, and why the proton is the smallest meaningful unit of volume.

There is also a brief plug for the Steady State model of the universe, which is unfortunate given that, between the article's writing and its publication, the Big Bang model has garnered overwhelming favor.

Four stars.

Representative From Earth, by Gregory Benford

A Jovian skydiver from Earth is scooped up by aliens and given a series of tasks to complete to prove his worthiness.  All of them have some element of physical prowess and intellectual cunning involved.  In the end, we find out just whom he's trying to impress.

It is a story at once too overwrought and too sketchy to please, all of it in service to an off color joke.

Two stars.

Apology to Inky, by Robert M. Green, Jr.

Haunted by an incident from his past he can only vaguely remember, but which tore apart his one true love, experimental musician Walton Ulster finds himself living in several times at once: 1930, 1944, and 1965.  At the intersection of these three eras is a double-murder and, perhaps, true love.

At half the length, and in more capable hands, this interminable novelette could have been something special.  As is, it wavers between interest and boredom, settling in for the latter by the end.

Two stars.

Casualties of War

I suppose after last month's all-star issue, it was a matter of course that the follow up would be dismal.  Part of the issue is the abundance of new/newish writers (Green, Benford, Guttridge).  Ah well.  I'm inclined to take the long view.

After all — one battle does not a war make!

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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[December 14, 1965] Expect the Unexpected (January 1966 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

It's a Bird! It's a Plane! It's . . . a Meteor? A Satellite? A Flying Saucer?

Things got off to a bang earlier this month, in a most unexpected way. On the evening of December 9, folks in Canada and the United States saw a fireball in the sky. According to witnesses, something crashed in the woods near the town of Kecksburg, Pennsylvania.

(Cue eerie theremin music.)

The US military and state troopers sealed off the area and began a search. So far, they haven't reported finding anything.

(That's what they want you to think.)


Isn't this the way The Blob started?

After eliminating things like a plane crash, the authorities seem to think the most likely suspect is a meteor that exploded in the atmosphere. (Vocabulary lesson for today: A very bright meteor, particularly one that blows up spectacularly, is known as a bolide.) It might possibly be debris from a satellite, some suggest. Of course, you and I know it's really little green men . . .

Another Song of Solomon?

Almost as surprising as a blazing visitor from outer space is a modern pop song with lyrics that are a couple of thousand years old. The Byrds are currently at the top of the American music charts with their version of Turn! Turn! Turn!

Composed by folk singer Pete Seeger, almost all the words are taken from the Old Testament book Ecclesiastes, supposedly written by King Solomon. The exceptions are the title, repeated several times, and the closing line I swear it's not too late, emphasizing the song's antiwar message.


She don't care about grammar either, I guess.

What Do You Expect For Four Bits?

Appropriately, the latest issue of Fantastic is full of unexpected happenings.


Cover art by James B. Settles, taken from the back cover of the August 1942 issue of Amazing Stories.


The best copy I can find of the original. Please excuse the tiny print. I doubt this is a very accurate representation of the planet Uranus anyway.

Six and Ten Are Johnny, by Walter M. Miller, Jr.


Cover art by Barye Phillips and Leo Summers.

From the very first issue of Fantastic comes this tale of an unexpected encounter on a distant world.


Illustrations by Virgil Finlay.

A shuttle carries a survey team from a starship down to the surface of the planet. The crew has an uneasy feeling about the place, for no obvious reason. They land on a plateau above a dense jungle. They are shocked to meet Johnny, who claims to be the sole survivor of a lost starship. Things get even weirder when some of the crew members vanish, and the others claim that they never even existed.


Officers from the starship join the survey team in an attempt to figure out what's going on.

Everybody seems to be in a dazed condition, except the protagonist. That's because he's got a metal plate in his head, which protects him from having his mind controlled by the alien organism that makes up the jungle.


The wild-eyed madman in this picture is actually our completely sane hero, who is trying to protect a colleague from the creature's telepathic powers.

This is a grim little science fiction horror story with a feverish, eerie mood. I'm not sure I believe the way the alien organism works, or if the behavior of the crew is plausible. (Would you really bring a bunch of dogs on a starship to test if a planet's atmosphere is breathable? Of course, the real reason they're present is so they can go crazy and bark wildly, like in any scary movie.) Not the most profound story in the world, but a competent spine chiller.

Three stars.

Wonder Child, by Joseph Shallit


Cover art by Robert Frankenberg.

The January/February 1953 issue of the magazine supplies this account of an invention with unexpected effects.


Illustrations by Ed Emshwiller (better known as Emsh.)

A married couple would like to have a child, but they don't want to deal with all the work of raising it from infancy. They happen to know a scientist who has created a gizmo that will speed up the nerve growth of a fetus in the womb. Their son develops rapidly, sparing them a lot of trouble with things like toilet training.


He also develops a precocious interest in sex.

Despite some problems with teachers, neighbors, and other kids, things seem to be going pretty well. What they don't know is that their acquaintance is a classic Mad Scientist, who has also given the child increased aggression. It's not hard to see that things won't work out for the best.

I found both the technology and the behavior of the characters implausible. The ending of the story left a bad taste in my mouth. I suppose the author does a decent job portraying a pair of self-centered bohemian parents, but they're not much fun to read about.

Two stars.

Axe and Dragon (Part Two of Three), by Keith Laumer

Let's take a break from reprints and turn to the latest installment in this new novel.


Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

As you may recall, the improbably named Lafayette O'Leary wound up in a strange, supposedly imaginary world through self-hypnosis. He has some control over things, creating food, drink, clothing, shelter, and the like. However, the place has a stubborn reality of its own.

After surviving a duel in a slapstick fashion, he winds up being framed for the kidnapping of the land's beautiful princess. Much running around follows, with O'Leary even creating a secret door for himself, so he can escape into it.


He also briefly returns to the so-called real world, where he runs afoul of the law.

Determined to clear his name, he sets out to rescue the princess from a fabled giant and his supposed dragon. Complicating matters is the king's magician, who has more advanced technology than you'd expect in this steam-powered world, and who seems to know more about what's going on than he admits.


There's also a big guy.

The mood remains very light, with even more comedy than the first part.  The breakneck pace of events holds the reader's attention.  Even if the whole thing could be dismissed as much ado about nothing, it provides adequate, forgettable entertainment.

Three stars.

What a Man Believes, by Robert Sheckley


Cover art by Vernon Kramer.

Back to reprints with this tale of the afterlife, from the November/December 1953 issue.


Illustrations by Henry C. Pitz.

A guy who didn't expect anything after death winds up in an oddly accommodating Hell.  It seems he has a choice of eternal punishment: he can undergo physical torture, fight wolves, or drift in a boat.


He can also climb a mountain.

Predictably, he selects the boat, preferring endless boredom to unending agony.  This leads to an ending that, well, didn't make a lot of sense to me.  I suppose some irony is intended, but it falls flat.

Two stars.

Three Wishes, by Poul Anderson


Wraparound cover art by Richard Powers.

A nice old man makes an unexpected discovery in this yarn from the March/April 1953 issue.


Illustration by Dick Francis.

The elderly fellow is Papa Himmelschoen.  If that sounds familiar, you're probably thinking of Papa Schimmelhorn, a character created by Reginald Bretnor in the story The Gnurrs Come from the Voodvork Out back in 1950.  Anderson's old man has a similar thick accent, so I assume this is a deliberate allusion.

Anyway, the kindly Papa mends a pair of pants for a neighbor, and gets a little statue of a fairy as payment.  It comes to life when, in a burst of gaiety, he kisses it.  His reward is three wishes.  Since he's completely happy with his life, he doesn't know how to use his wishes.  The solution to his problem isn't completely satisfying, and involves a bit of circular reasoning.

This is a trivial work from a talented writer.  The mood is pleasant enough, and Himmelschoen is a lot less obnoxious than Schimmelhorn, but it doesn't add up to much.

Two stars.

Phoney Meteor, by John Beynon


Cover art by J. Allen St. John.

From the yellowing pages of the March 1941 issue of Amazing Stories comes this piece, by an author better known as John Wyndham.


Illustration by Jay Jackson.

Neatly wrapping up the magazine with an incident similar to the one I mentioned at the start of this article, this story involves a mysterious object falling to Earth.  Since the setting is England during the Second World War, the local folks treat it as a possible Nazi weapon. 

Alternating sections of narration reveal that it's really a spaceship, carrying a large number of aliens from their dying world.  It's obvious from the start, and the illustration, that they're tiny beings, so Earth seems like a planet full of giant monsters.

That's about all there is to the story.  Beynon/Wyndham writes well enough, but I found the accounts of life in England during the Blitz more interesting than the science fiction stuff.

(Everybody seems very coolheaded when faced with this potentially deadly object.  I suppose that's a bit of wartime propaganda, to maintain morale.  Keep Calm and Carry On, and all that.)

Two stars.

Did It Meet Your Expectations?

I wasn't expecting this issue to be so weak, ranging from so-so to below average.  I can understand the financial reason for using so many reprints — I believe the publishers have full rights to the stories and art, so they don't have to pay anything for them — but it results in a lot of disappointing early work from well-known writers.  If I were in a worse mood, I'd be tempted to tell the editor exactly where he can go with all these old relics.


Cartoon by Ray Dillon.  It's a reprint, too, from the same issue as Poul Anderson's story.




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Magazine/Anthology, Serial

[December 2, 1965] Superiority Complex (January 1966 IF)

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by David Levinson

Some people are objectively better at some things than everybody else. Sandy Koufax can pitch a baseball better than almost anybody, and Muhammad Ali is arguably the best boxer we’ve seen in his weight class in a long time.


The problem arises when that excellence in a specialized area leads to an assumption of excellence in other, unrelated areas. I certainly wouldn’t turn to either of the aforementioned men for suggestions on nuclear policy or to bring peace to South-east Asia. Worse still is when whole groups assume superiority over others based solely on an accident of birth.

Heart of Darkness

Last month, I discussed the difficulties faced by the United Kingdom in handing over power to the locals in Rhodesia due to an unwillingness on the part of the white government under Ian Smith and the Rhodesian Front to share power with Black Rhodesians. Alas, the situation has now collapsed completely. On November 5th, the colonial governor declared a state of emergency, blaming Smith and two African nationalist organizations, the Zimbabwe African People’s Union and the Zimbabwe African National Union.


Ian Smith signs the Unilateral Declaration of Independence

On the 11th, the Smith government unilaterally declared independence. Within hours, the United Nations Security Council condemned the action 10-0 with France abstaining. British Prime Minister Harold Wilson has been granted the authority to rule Rhodesia by decree, though what good that might do is hard to see. Wilson steadfastly refuses a military solution and expects economic embargoes to force Smith to capitulate. But with two neighboring nations, South Africa and the Portuguese colony of Mozambique, more than willing to ignore any embargoes, it is likely to be a long time before we see a resolution to this situation.

Conflicts Great and Small

Fittingly, there’s plenty of superiority, assumed and otherwise, in this month’s IF. Let’s get to it.


This art for “Cindy-Me” bears absolutely no relation to the story. Art by Morrow

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