Category Archives: Serial

Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[July 10, 1968] Back in the Saddle Again (August 1968 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Not F-UN

Bjo Trimble, a superfan from the wayback, put together a fan shindig in Los Angeles last weekend.  Called F-UN Con, it is not only an SF convention, but it's also the first Star Trek convention, with a whole day of programming dedicated to the show.

This article is not about F-UN Con.

Why did we fly to the Bay Area this past weekend rather than trundling up to L.A., which is closer?  Well, we know the gang in 'Frisco, and they've been putting together informal conclaves every year.  We couldn't very well shuck tradition just for a new event, even if it's nominally in our back yard.

It was a good decision.  For one thing, they had a bit of Star Trek up there–this lovely reproduction of the captain's chair.

And now that The Prisoner is showing in the States, we're getting some lovely costumage, too!

Speaking of traditions that are worth upholding, the latest issue of Galaxy feels like a return to the quality of yore.  Usually, magazines pack their summer issues with their least impressive offerings, but such was not the case this time around.  Take a trip with me!


by Vaughn Bodé

Among the Bad Baboons, by Mack Reynolds


by Vaughn Bodé

Mack Reynolds continues his stories of life under "People's Capitalism" in the '80s, this time focusing on the last of the Bohemians, living in the decaying ruins of Greenwich Village.  With most of the country now on the dole, and white flight having been taken to its logical extreme, the cities are now all but abandoned, save for the "babboons"–lawless squatters–and the "hunters", who go downtown to shoot for thrills.

This story is more a vehicle for philosophical discussion than plot, and I found the end a bit distasteful.  That said, there are some fascinating suppositions in this tale.  One is that the current regime, in which prospective authors send their manuscripts to editors, who then publish them through traditional channels, will be supplanted by a revolutionary new process.  In the '80s, any author can take their novel (or story, or artwork) to a computer and have it stored for infinite reproduction.  These reproductions can then be read on a tv-phone (or in the case of art, facsimile duplicated).

This means that anyone can be a writer or an artist, and anyone can appreciate any work, any time.  And since everyone is on the dole anyway, why not be an artist or a writer?  Well, it does mean there's a lot more competition, and it's harder to become a phenomenon, but on the other hand, there's no barrier to entry.

Now, Reynolds assumes most people won't want to be artists, and they will be content to watch 24 hours of television a day while tranked up on cheap drugs.  Maybe he's right.  But as someone who already publishes nontraditionally (what is Galactic Journey and The Fantasy Amateur Press Association if not decentralized publishing), it's an exciting prospect.

Three stars, for the ideas, if anything.

Going Down Smooth, by Robert Silverberg


by Brock

Silverbob puts on his best Ellison impression with this tale of a therapist computer gone nuts listening to neurotic patients all day.

It's not bad, but it doesn't go anywhere.  I'd stick with the original.

Three stars.

A Specter is Haunting Texas (Part 2 of 3), by Fritz Leiber


by Jack Gaughan

I really had not been looking forward to this second installment of Leiber's tale.  Last time, as you recall, a spaceman-actor had landed in post-apocalyptic Texas (now ruler of all North America save the two Black republics in the southwest and southeast) to 1) perform in a short tour and 2) make good on a pitchblende claim in the Yukon.  The eight-foot tall, cadaverous, cybernetic thespian was recruited in a hit on the current President of Texas, whereupon he escaped to join causes with the revolutionary Mexican underclass.

It was all a bit silly, and while I appreciated what Leiber was doing, it didn't quite resonate with me.  This time, however, the needle fell into the groove.  As Chris Crockett La Cruz assumed the role of La Muerta, spurring the downtrodden Mexicans with promises of Vengeance and Death, Leiber's writing took on sublime proportions. The way he navigates the line between satire and seriousness so deftly, with such beautiful language and characterization, even as the characters are all caricatures, is an accomplishment for the ages.

Five stars for ths installment.

For Your Information: In Australia, the Rain …, by Willy Ley

The topic for this month's non-fiction piece is an interesting one: the artificial lakes, rivers, and resulting hydropower systems of Australia.  The presentation, however, leaves much to be desired.  I want to know the impact of these developments, both on settlement and on the environment, not be given pages of details of their precise geographical location.

Three stars.

The Time Trawlers, by Burt K. Filer


by Dan Adkins

A thousand years from now, humans will fish the future just as they now fish the seas.  As the solar system's population grows to number into the quadrillions, our race must pluck planets from 30 billion A.D. to plunder them for their resources.  An 18-year old fisherman with "the knack" for finding rich worlds, decides he doesn't want to do it anymore after seeing what the process does to already-inhabited planets.  He embarks on a one-man crusade against the practice, hatching a novel scheme to bring it to an end.

Never mind the silliness of the premise, or the fact that culture looks pretty much like 20th Century Earth in the tale.  It's a good story, well-told.  Sure, it feels a bit like early vintage Galaxy, but I like that era!

Four stars.

The Star Below, by Damon Knight


by Jack Gaughan

Thorinn, that diminutive traveler introduced in The World and Thorinn and later in The Garden of Ease, has returned.  This time, he has stumbled across an enormous warehouse filled with all manner of wondrous items.  From rich garments to strange engines to a talking box, all are marvels to the medieval-minded explorer.

Of course, it's at this point that our suspicions are confirmed that the myriad of worlds Thorinn passes through are all parts of a giant generation ship, this being the cargo hold.  What makes this segment so compelling is the description of these (to us) more-or-less familiar items to a man with no conception of technology.  The interactions between Thorinn and the little computer, particularly the way the box learns English, feel very natural.  I only wish Thorinn could have taken the box with him; it'd make an interesting companion.

Four stars.

HEMEAC, by E. G. Von Wald


by Joe Wehrle

Long ago, the robots took over the human power plants, and they also claimed a number of human hostages, who they began to educate in their own, logical images.  But the robots are breaking down, and the "renegade" humans are pounding at the gates.

What is HEMEAC, a teenaged robot-trained youth supposed to think when his teachers all start behaving erratically and the wild people defile the sacred halls of cybernia?

This is another tale with a classic (i.e. '50s) sense to it.  I particularly enjoyed the rendering of the robots, and HEMEAC's not-entirely-successful attempts to make rigid his thought processes.

Four stars.

Missed it by THAT much

Put it all together, and you get an issue that soars almost to four stars in quality–surely to contend for the best magazine of the month.  It's reads like this that keep me going, and also cause me to commend editor Pohl for keeping the proud publication on an even keel.  I know some disagree with his lambasting of the New Wave (and, indeed, Pohl is not averse to printing examples of it), but I think there is value to the continued production of novel, interesting, but also conventional SF prose.

I can't wait for next month!




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial, Uncategorized

[July 2, 1968] What’s the Point? (August 1968 IF)

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by David Levinson

The appearance of doing something

One of the German Empire’s colonies before the First World War was German South West Africa, nestled between what are today South Africa, Angola, and Botswana. After the war, South Africa was granted a mandate over the colony by the League of Nations, similar to Britain’s control over Palestine or France’s over Lebanon and Syria. The League was dissolved in 1946 and replaced by the United Nations. In general, mandates were intended to be replaced by United Nations Trusteeship, and the General Assembly recommended that South West Africa be one of those, however South Africa refused. In 1949, South Africa declared that it was no longer subject to U.N. oversight where South West Africa was concerned, as they began to extend their apartheid system into the former colony. The following year, the International Court ruled that the U.N. should exercise supervision in the administration of the territory in place of the League, but South Africa rejected the Court’s opinion and has refused any involvement by the U.N.

A political cartoon from after the First World War.

Independence movements have swept through Africa over the last decade, and as I noted in January of last year, South West Africa is not immune. The predominant organization is the South West Africa People’s Organisation (SWAPO), and they have been lobbying the U.N. for several years. In 1966, the General Assembly terminated the mandate, giving the U.N. direct supervision of the territory. Last year, they established the United Nations Council for South West Africa to administer the territory until independence. South Africa remains recalcitrant. And so, on June 12th, the Assembly approved Resolution 2372, which, in accordance with the wishes of the people as represented by SWAPO, changed the name to Namibia. Well, that, some finger-wagging at South Africa and the nations supporting the illegal occupation of Namibia, and a request that the Security Council do something to get South Africa out. Don’t hold your breath.

Sam Nujoma (r.), President of SWAPO, shakes hands with Mostafa Rateb Abdel-Wahab, President of the Council for Namibia

Noir, nonsense, and the blatantly obvious

The stories in this month’s IF range from the patently obvious to those that leave the reader wondering why the author bothered. There are a couple of mildly entertaining stops along the way, and the high point may surprise you (even if it is more molehill than mountain).

Supposedly for Rogue Star, which doesn’t have a starship crash. Or this many characters. Art by Chaffee

Whaddya Read?, by H.L. Gold

The founding editor of both IF and Galaxy offers a defense of modern science fiction. Maybe the new stuff isn’t as different as most people seem to think. It’s just better written.

Three stars.

Getting Through University, by Piers Anthony

A few stories ago, dentist Dr. Dillingham was kidnapped by aliens and has since bumbled around the galaxy, from one emergency patient to the next. Now, he’s been given the opportunity to attend dental school and gain proper accreditation. All he needs to do is pass the entrance exam.

The doctor deals with a difficult case instead of prepping for his exam. Art by Vaughn Bodé

Surprisingly, given the previous stories and the author’s general output, I rather liked this one. A lot of what happens is ridiculously obvious, but it doesn’t lead to quite where you might suspect. This is almost the quality that Cele Lalli used to get out of Anthony. Maybe there’s hope for him after all.

A somewhat above average three stars.

If… and When, by Lester del Rey

This month, del Rey looks at Project Orion, the idea of using nuclear bombs to propel a starship. It’s not as crazy as it sounds, but he’s not shy about discussing some of the problems connected with a successful launch of the project (including the hundred billion dollar price tag). This is a clear-headed look at an interesting idea full of possibilities for science fiction authors.

Three stars.

In Another Land, by Mary Urhausen

Seeking to escape a regimented society and a failed love affair, the narrator attempts suicide only to find himself in a utopia. That utopia feels like the sort often imagined 50 or 60 years ago, but this month’s first time author does what she can with it. The shift from first person perspective to third person is slightly jarring, but gives the story what little bite it has. New author Urhausen shows definite skill. Here’s hoping she can hone it into something a little meatier.

Three stars.

Last Dreamer, by A. Bertram Chandler

Commodore John Grimes just wants to go home, but the strangeness at the Rim of the galaxy keeps throwing adventures in his way. This time, it’s a habitable planet with no sun, where everything is out of a bad fairy tale, and everyone speaks in rhymed couplets.

It comes as no surprise that Dan Adkins can’t draw a fire-breathing dragon. Art by Adkins

I generally enjoy the Grimes stories, but this is just silly – and that in a series that has had intelligent rats and an appearance by the Olympian gods. Of course, Chandler knows it’s silly and does get some humor out of the Commodore’s grumpiness about the situation. (He really should have ended a sentence with the word “orange,” though. Let’s see them rhyme that.) Overall, a disappointment; the more so because Chandler teased us with a story from the very beginning of Grimes’s career, but has since stuck with the older man near the end of his service. Let’s see some more of the younger man, whether wet behind the ears or just coming into his prime.

A low three stars.

Merlin Planet, by E.G. Von Wald

Sticking with fantasy pretending it’s science fiction, we have the story of the new man on a Terran trading team on a world where the locals can do magic (thanks to some psychic handwaving; what hath Campbell wrought?). Fortunately, the wizards can be stopped for a time by doing complicated math in your head. Unfortunately, instead of the requested mathematician, headquarters has sent a business law expert.

That’s not how you use a magic staff. Art by Wehrle

If you can get past the magic, the story isn’t terrible. However, it is twice as long as it needs to be. I saw the solution as soon as the new guy revealed he couldn’t do high order math. The rest was just an interminable wait until he figured it out. Right on the line between two and three stars, but the length drags it down for me.

A high two stars.

Song of the Blue Baboon, by Roger Zelazny

Zelazny takes us into the mind of a man who either betrayed Earth to alien invaders or carried out a clever stratagem to defeat them. The problem is that he never engages with his theme. The ambiguity of the ending could be read a couple of ways. Pretty, but shallow.

A low three stars.

What the Old Aliens Left, by D.M. Melton

Here’s our first tale with strong noir elements: an honest cop, a corrupt system, a dangerous dame. The lure of great wealth? The technology left behind by a dead alien civilization.

Most of the action takes place in a bar, too. Art by Brand

Melton continues to improve. He’s never going to get to the point where I’m excited to see his name on the cover, but at least it’s a sign of a probably-entertaining read. He might be getting a handle on writing women, but he’s working from a strong template here, one that’s not necessarily great, but at least gives them their own motives. On the whole, the story probably could have been tightened up here and there. Less going back and forth from the bar, for instance. Still an entertaining read.

Three stars.

West Is West, by Larry Tritten

The inhabitants of the planet West wallow in the cliches of old-school westerns and have names like Randolph Scott Cartwheel, even if many of them are duck-billed saurians. Sheriff Matt Cooper has to bring in Cartwheel for the unprovoked killing of another saurian. Then things go a bit noir, with a femme fatale and the Maltese Longhorn Steer.

A shootout is about the only thing missing from this story. Art by Wehrle

Tritten appears to be another newcomer, though he’s not acknowledged as an IF First. The parody here is laid on with a dumptruck and feels dated. The cliches are familiar, but the western genre has largely moved on from them. There’s no room for Clint Eastwood’s man with no name (though Rowdy Yates would likely feel at home). Ron Goulart could have pulled this off.

A low three stars.

Rogue Star (Part 3 of 3), by Fredrik Pohl and Jack Williamson

This thing doesn’t deserve a recap. I’ll merely note that the climax features actual stars battling each other. The flaws are many, but I’ll limit myself to just two. For starters, “protagonist” Andy Quam should have just stayed home. Everything would have turned out exactly the same, and he wouldn’t have had to deal with all the stress. There are also a number of unresolved subplots, most notably the strange behavior of Earth’s sun. We’re told why it’s happening, but nothing is done about it.

Two stars for this installment and barely two stars for the novel as a whole.

Edmond Hamilton just smashed planets together. What a piker. Art by Gaughan

Summing up

If you told me that, in an issue with stories by the likes of Roger Zelazny and Jack Williamson, the one I would like best was by Piers Anthony, I’d have laughed at you. Look, it’s not a great story; it’s just the one that annoyed me the least. Maybe the summer heat is making me cranky.

That’s a promising lineup.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[June 30, 1968] Hawk among the sparrows (July 1968 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

It's all in who you know

This month, the legendary Earl Warren, former governor of my state of California, and Chief Justice during one of the Supreme Court's most dramatic eras, announced that he was stepping down.  No sooner had he done this that President Johnson tapped Abe Fortas, Associate Justice since 1965, for the chief position among the top black-robes.

Fortas and LBJ go way back, all the way to 1948's Texas Democratic primary for Senator, when the young lawyer successfully won a legal challenge to LBJ's victory.  Since then, their stars have been interlinked.  Some of Fortas' fellow justices (and many newspapers) suggest that the Justice and the President's relationship is a bit too chummy.  Still, Fortas has been a good, liberal judge, and he'd probably be a fine Chief Justice.  Sometimes the good ol' boy network doesn't hurt anybody.

This segues nicely into my review of this month's issue of Analog.  Campbell, like many SF magazine editors, has a stable of reliable authors.  This means he always has work of a certain quality to fill his issues.  It also tends to crowd out new talent.  This results in a kind of conservatism, and often a bit of mediocrity.  This month, however, things work out a bit better than average.

Let's take a look!


by Kelly Freas

Familiar faces

Hawk Among the Sparrows, by Dean McLaughlin


by Kelly Freas

Howard Farman is the pilot of the Pika-don, a cross between the SR-71 hypersonic recon plane and the VTOL "Harrier" (which is about to enter British service).  On a mission to monitor a French weapons test, some scientificish gobbledegook happens, knocking Farman back in time to 1917–the midst of The Great War.  Sort of a reverse of the Twilight Zone episode, The Last Flight.

Once there, he finds himself ensconced with a French fighter squadron.  They are being trounced by a German Ace.  Eighty men died trying to break his spree, but no one can stop the bloody Red Baron of Germany.  Actually, it's not Richtofen; it's a fictional(?) #2, for whom there is no canine counterpart.

Farman is convinced that he can turn things around if he can just get his advanced fighter off the ground, something that will require building a whole industry of jet fuel production.  And even once he manages that, his missiles and radar won't track the wood-and-canvas Fokkers of the enemy.  What to do?

This is a very pleasant story, quite readable.  It does have a few holes big enough to ram a Nieuport through.  For one, it is most unrealistic that a man from 1975 with ten thousand flight hours would have no understanding of propeller planes.  You can't get Air Force wings today without first racking up dozens of hours in simple prop aircraft, and Farman must have first gotten commissioned before or around 1968.  Maybe if the jet came from some time in the 21st Century, it'd be more plausible (though I can't imagine ever starting fighter jocks on jets–that's a recipe for disaster).

The second hole is that Farman is oblivious for far too long of the effects of the jet wash, something with which he should be intimately familiar.

Finally, while I appreciate the nod to logistics, what with Farman needing to manufacture kerosene for his plane, it strains credulity that a super-advanced jet could reliably fly after several months in a field with no maintenance.

Four stars, but it is clear that McLaughlin (who has been AWOL from Analog since 1964) does not have a strong aviation background.

Null Zone, by Joe Poyer


by Kelly Freas

How does one stop the Ho Chi Minh trail, when it is really a vast network of mini-trails with far too many branches to interdict?  By building a highway of nuclear waste across it, of course!

Joe tells an engaging story, with the spark of color with which he always imbues his technical pieces.  But I can't imagine the logistics of transport/production make this a feasible possibility, never mind the humanitarian aspects.  Does editor Campbell ever mind the humanitarian aspects?

Three stars.

"To Sleep, Perchance to Dream … ", by W. C. Francis


by Kelly Freas

Alright, there's always an exception that proves the rule.  I've never heard of Francis before, so I guess Campbell did save a slot for a novice.

On the way to the stars, a spaceman in stasis finds himself lost in an increasingly convoluted nightmare.  Is this part of the process, or has something gone off the rails?

Reading this story was akin to hearing someone tell you about the dreams they had last night.  It's usually fascinating for the teller and dull for the audience.  The ending to the tale, however, pulls this piece into the low three star range.

Winkin, Blinkin and πR²?, by R. C. FitzPatrick


by Kelly Freas

I think this one takes place in the same setting as The Circuit Riders from six years back.  Cops are using emotion detectors to track down a gang of bank robbers.  For the most part, the criminals keep their cool, but every so often, their ring-leader blows his stack, and it pops up as a blip on a scope at police HQ.

Kind of a dull tale, this police procedural, with a lot of casual grousing and bickering in lieu of characterization.  Probably the worst piece in the mag.

Two stars.

Icarus and Einstein, by R. S. Richardson

Analog's resident astronomer offers up a science fact piece about the Earth-grazing (comparatively) asteroid of Icarus.  The bulk of the piece is on how the mile-long hunk of rock could be used to test General Relativity, in the same way Mercury has been.

It's a fascinating topic, though Richardson fails to explain why General Relativity affects orbits. This is a common failing of all works on the topic, mainly because the explanation is not particularly simple to relate.  Well, maybe it's not.  Let me try:

There is a Special Relativity variant of Newton's law of motion, in which a bit (expression) is added to the equation to factor for an object's proximity to the speed of light.  It can generally be omitted at the low speeds we're used to since the speed of light is on the bottom of that fraction, and thus, it comes out pretty close to zero most of the time.

Similarly, with General Relativity, in addition to the effect of gravity being equal to the proportion of the masses of two objects divided by the square of their distance, there's an additional expression that factors in the warping of space by the gravity of a mass, which gets higher the closer one gets to it.  As in the Special Relativity equation, the value of this expression is usually close to zero.  But when the object is as massive as the Sun, and the other object gets really close, it becomes significant.

There.  That wasn't so hard.

Anyway, the problem with the article isn't the content, but the presentation.  I understood it, but I also majored in astrophysics.  I suspect most people will scratch heads in confusion.  Which is a little weird; Richardson is usually better than that.

Three stars.

Satan's World (Part 3 of 4), by Poul Anderson


by Kelly Freas

If you recall the last installment of this serial, merchant captain David Falkayn and his raccoon-like associate, Chee Lan, had arrived at the mysterious world of Satan.  The planet had been in a deep freeze for eons, but now it is approaching its hot sun, and its cryosphere is evaporating, uncovering a bonanza of valuable minerals.  But 23 alien warships have suddenly also appeared, and a confrontation is inevitable.

When it occurs, Falkayn is surprised to find that Latimer, one of the five shareholders for Serendipity Inc. (the knowledge brokers that have become a linchpin of the galactic economy), is working for Gahood, a member of the minotaur-like race of aliens called the Shenn.  The Shenn are using Serendipity as a kind of fifth column, and they are the first real threat to the Galactic Commonwealth.

Some genuinely thrilling scenes ensue.  I particularly liked the evocative bit where Falkayn's ship, the Muddlin' Through, careens through the stormy atmosphere of Satan, 19 robotic destroyers in hot pursuit.  I kept thinking, "You can't find this kind of imagery anywhere but in books.  Movie technology just can't capture such magic the way the printed word can."

But just as I was about to give this segment a four on the Star-o-meter, the last five pages brought back the bawdy merchant Van Rijn and the collossal bore, Adzel, along with five pages of expositional writing.

Back to three it goes!  Conclusion next month.

Leveraging human capital

I don't say this too often, but thank goodness for Analog!  Clocking in at 3.1 stars, it and Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.3) are the only mags that ended above the 3 star line.

The other mags included IF (2.9), New Worlds (2.7), Galaxy (2.6), and Amazing (2.5).

You could fit all of the above-3 stuff in a single magazine (wouldn't that be nice?) And women accounted for just 2.6% of all the new material–that is to say, thanks to Carol Emshwiller and F&SF from keeping this month from being a stag shut-out.

Another reason to look beyond plowed pastures for talent–we might get more stories by women-folk in our mags!




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[June 26, 1968] To far off lands (July 1968 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Points East

It's been so very long since I could offer a travelogue from my favorite of countries, Japan.  But now, after four years (and a stop at the Fotomat to develop pictures), I finally have a dual treat for you–vacation slides and a review of the latest issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction!

But instead of dumping either of them on you all at once, how about we take a simultaneous trip, both to the Orient and to vistas even further off?


by Jack Gaughan

For this article, I have the invaluable assistance of Mr. Brian Collins, a fellow 'zine editor with a penchant for pain.  To wit, after reading this month's issue, he offered to take a stab at the lead story.  As I have no qualms with anyone stabbing Piers Anthony, here goes…

Sos the Rope (Part 1 of 3), by Piers Anthony


by Brian Collins

Piers Anthony has appeared here and there over the past few years without making much of a fuss, with his first SF novel, Chthon, being decidedly uncontroversial among the Journey people (read: everyone I know hates it). That was last year, and now we already have the beginning of his second SF novel, Sos the Rope, which Ed Ferman introduces as a “successful” contest novel “of superior quality.” I don’t wish to call Ferman a liar, but I shiver to think of what the standard must be for contest-winning SF novels for this to be deemed a success.

The premise is simple—too simple. It’s been a century since a nuclear holocaust apparently sent mankind back to its early hunter-gatherer ways, with “society” being reduced to mostly roaming tribes with little hotspots of civilization maintained by “the crazies,” people who somehow retain the ways from before the holocaust. We start with a duel between two warriors, both named Sol, who fight in a circle to see who gets to keep both the name and the right to use all the standard weapons of combat. The loser is thus named Sos, and he becomes not only weaponless but Sol’s (the winner’s) servant; but it’s not all bad, for Sol is not some wandering rogue but a man with a vision, as he wants to build an empire from scratch. A nameless woman who witnesses the duel joins the two and, in a rather haphazard ceremony, becomes Sol’s wife and takes the name of Sola, as is the custom. Apparently people here can change names the way one changes pairs of shoes.
Thus the story starts as something of a road trip narrative that at first sounds like it may be adventure fantasy a la Conan, but is actually science fiction—although Anthony puts in the minimum effort to justify the setting. We also have a lust triangle (I wouldn’t say love, for any reasonable person can’t suppose that Sos and Sola are in love) as Sos and Sola are clearly attracted to each other, but Sola wants Sol’s title while Sol has no affection for Sola. We find out at one point that indeed Sol can’t satisfy his wife as he’s all but said to be a eunuch. “Sol would never be a father. No wonder he sought success in his own lifetime. There would be no sons to follow him.” This does not stop Sos and Sola from eventually doing the dirty deed and the latter getting very pregnant. I continue to suffer.

My experience with Anthony up to this point was basically nil (though, of course, my friends at the Journey tell me stories), but I can already sense a profound distrust of women running through his writing. The way marriage works in the novel’s world is that women literally do not have names and presumably no property rights unless hitched to a man, whereupon they take their husband’s name with just a letter added to it. There is no signed contract, and marriage can be made and ended upon the exchanging of a bracelet. This notion of wife-as-property went out with the Dark Ages, but Anthony has revived it so as to a) generate conflict, and b) give us an excuse to view female characters through the lens of someone who might as well be picking out clothes in a store. There is much ogling at Sola’s physique, including a couple situations where she shamelessly tries to seduce Sos.

The battle circle scenes are not even strikingly written. By the time we get to the climax, where Sol, in recruiting men for his empire, is about to take on a massive brute named Bog (all the men seem to have monosyllables for names), I struggled not to put down my issue and do something better with my life. However, because I feel Anthony can do (and maybe has done) worse, I’m inclined to give this installment a generous 2 out of 5 stars.


by Gideon Marcus

The above was actually written before we went to Japan.  On the 10th, we took off from Los Angeles, the Boeing 707 we flew in now a nostalgic experience rather than a new one (we're so spoiled!) Because of our speed, we were in daylight the entire time, and yet, when we landed at Haneda Airport in Tokyo, it was already the next day thanks to the international date line.

Just in time for me to read this story about a completely different kind of trip…

The Psychedelic Children, by Dean R. Koontz

The effects of LSD are still relatively unexplored.  Some believe that the psychedelic effects of a "trip" suggest the unlocking of psionic potential.  And what if that psionic potential was inheritable…

It is the near future, and Laurie, Frank's wife, is having an episode.  Her psi powers come in waves; when they peak, they must be channeled outward in a fiery blaze lest they destroy her.  So Frank drives her out to the countryside (furtively, for the psi-capable children of Acid-droppers are all sought by the authorities) so Lauren can vent her energies.

The next day, a patrolman and his robot assistant show up at their door…

Koontz paints a vivid world in a few deft strokes, creating a memorable story with a nice ending.  Koontz is still a bit new, and it shows in some awkward turns of phrase and a less than expertly rendered final act.  Nevertheless, it's a good story, both SFnal and fantastic.

Four stars.

We spent our first week in Tokyo, down by the harbor in the Hamamatsuchou area.  Tokyo is different from other metropolises–from the air, it's an endless cityscape, and on the ground, it seethes with activity.  Commuters rush by in endless streams, on foot and by train.  It should be oppressive, but the fundamental politeness and regimentation of Japanese society, at least in the urban areas, somehow makes it all bearable.  It's much different from, say, the noisy stink of New York City or the sprawling gray of Los Angeles.

Speaking of regimentation and programming…

Key Item, by Isaac Asimov

I was prepared not to like the Asimov story as his best fiction-writing days seem long behind him, and they now tend to be gimmick-ended vignettes.  But this one, in which a scientist figures out why a sentient MULTIVAC computer has stopped answering requests, was pretty gratifying–and most surprising.

Four stars.

Tokyo also distinguishes itself from other cities in its random beauty.  Personal space is at a premium, and so Japanese people decorate everything with thought and an aesthetic eye.  Even storefronts and random streetscapes become scenic.

Ultimate Defense, by Larry Brody

If the last story dealt with a mechanical brain, Ultimate Defense features a bionic wonder, a genetically engineered super human.  Jarvis Raal is under suspicion of murder, and it is up to a harried public defender to get him off.  How he does so involves an interesting twist on the subject of race.

I love the way Brody hints at an integrated future (a necessary underpinning of the story), and the story's conclusion is a lovely jab at centuries of bigotry.  My only complaint is stylistic: Brody ends every other paragraph with a punchy, one-line, standalone.  It lacks effectiveness in the repetition.

Four stars.

After five lonely nights in Tokyo (all of our friends in the capital had moved away or drifted out of sight since our last visit), we made our way on the Shinkansen for the first time in four years.  It's still as thrilling an experience as ever, zooming past the countryside as fast as a Cessna can fly.  Our destination was Nagoya, a rather ugly, industrial city in the country's center.  After Tokyo, it looked curiously American with its Western-style grid of streets designed by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.  It was the least we could do after flattening the city during World War 2.

However, the urban sprawl of Nagoya was in some ways lovelier than Tokyo for the people who live in it.  The Chubu/Osaka region is home to the greatest concentration of friends in Japan, both foreign and indigenous.  After meeting up with Jen and Dan, two professors who work at Nagoya University (Dan is half-Japanese, Jen is full Minnesotan), we got a call from Nanami, whom you may remember from our previous Japan-based articles and her appearance on The Journey Show.

Well, not only had she recently gotten married, but her husband and she had formed a jazz duet.  They invited us out to a coffee shop to watch them perform, and they were just terrif.

The ability to go all over Japan at great speed, manifesting almost at will, calls to mind the next story…

Remote Projection, by Guillaume Apollinaire

This ancient, translated piece starts off as one kind of thing and ends up very much another.  A messiah, calling himself Aldavid has appeared simultaneously throughout the globe.  Though he simply prays and gives sermons, his effect is electric.  Jews start emigrating en masse to Palestine, Jewish bankers are incarcerated so that they cannot empty their coffers in the support of Zionist goals, and gentiles grudgingly concede that they might have backed the wrong horse 2000 years before.

So it's a religious fantasy, right?  Then why does the messiah look suspiciously like a no-good-nik con artist, murderer, and crackpot inventor that our narrator character recalls from earlier life?  The end of the tale is all science fiction (well, scientific romance; we didn't have "scientifiction" yet), and pretty prescient.

Three stars; four if the old style tickles your fancy.

It is said that being invited into the home of a Japanese family is quite the honor for a Westerner.  Well, we were more than honored when Nanami and her husband, Tomoki, insisted we join them for a home-cooked meal of okonomiyaki at their lovely little house.  Afterwards, we had an impromptu jam session.  I sang Kyu Sakamoto's Ue wo muiteru arukou, which you know States-side as Sukiyaki (Nanami had ended their jazz concert with the song, too.) It was an absolutely sublime experience.

Speaking of sublime…

The Sublimation World, by John Sladek

John Sladek offers up this pastiche of a certain New Wave pioneer (the story is ostensibly by a J. G. B??????) If you've read any Ballard, and especially if you've read a lot of Ballard, you will see that Sladek skewers him with absolutely convincing parody.  After all, imitation is the sincerest form of mockery.  Yet he also manages to tell his own tale and put his own spin on things.  Brilliant stuff.  I read it aloud to Janice immediately upon finishing it, and it was difficult to avoid breaking up.

Five stars.

Nanami's pad wasn't the only place we ate well.  One morning in Nagoya, I found a little restaurant serving soba.  And not just soba, but cold soba.  And not just cold soba, but cold soba with fried onion on top.  WITH a side of curry rice.  I can tell you, I didn't eat lunch that day!

That was food for my stomach.  Now, how about some food for the mind?

Little Lost Satellite, by Isaac Asimov

Dr. A's first fictional story was Marooned off Vesta, so it is appropriate that he finally do an article about the titular asteroid.  He doesn't have too much to say because there isn't much to be learned from a point of light–the best we can resolve the tiny object with terrestrial telescopes.  He does make some rather half-baked theories as to the origin of Vesta and other asteroids, suggesting they might be former moons of the big planets, their rotation rates indicative relics of the worlds they once orbited.

Mostly, we're left with questions.  Three stars.

Beyond Words, by Hayden Howard

Last up, we have the fellow whose Esk tales in Galaxy started promisingly, meandered terribly, and ended…decently.  The fellow can write, sometimes.  And indeed, he does a decent job with this story, about a fellow who went into the desert to revert to language-less savagery.

But when you can't speak anymore, how can you defend yourself against a murder charge?

Three stars.


by Gahan Wilson

Heading for home

And so, 12 pleasant vacation days and 130 pages of F&SF go by.  Aside from the disappointing beginning, which I thankfully didn't have to read, the magazine definitely compelled me to return to F&SF next month.  Just as we fully intend to return to the lovely land of Japan next year, this time.

Mata ne!  (until next time!)




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[June 16, 1968] More Scandal! New Worlds, July 1968

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

It’s been a while, but it’s good to be back.

Something I suspect Editor Mike Moorcock has been saying too, because since I last wrote THINGS HAVE HAPPENED.

Quick recap, then. You might remember that last issue I said that newsagents W. H. Smith and Sons, Britain’s biggest newspaper and magazine vendor, in collaboration with John Menzies, refused to distribute the March issue of the magazine on the grounds of ‘obscenity and libel’, and that the national newspapers here once they got hold of the story brought it to national attention?

Well, it got further. In May, questions about the magazine, as a consequence of being partly paid for by the national Arts Council, were raised in the House of Commons, no less.

With national coverage in the House of Commons a Tory asked a question of Jennie Lee, the Minister for the Arts, asking why public money was being used in this manner (since the Arts Council is funded by taxes).

So New Worlds is now part of the records of British government, forever!

From what I understand Miss Lee gave a spirited riposte to the criticism, but what impact this will have on the magazine, I must admit that I don’t know. I’m lucky in that I get my copy through a subscription, but as most copies are purchased by casual buyers off the shelves in the newsagents this can only be bad – especially as I’ve said in the past that sales have recently declined, and Moorcock is desperate to increase revenue. It also means that readers are unlikely to see a copy at their local library.

On to this month’s issue.

Cover by Stephen Dwoskin

These covers seem to have regressed, haven’t they? This is the latest that to me echoes the bad old days at the end of the Carnell era, when there was just no money for artwork. Sound familiar? If you’re looking to grab attention, this isn’t it.

Lead in by The Publishers

Some changes here too. Editor Mike Moorcock has brought readers (those of us who are left, anyway) up to date with what has been happening in the Lead In, even if some kind of strange time warp has happened as the Editor claims that his comments were made “last month” and not actually in the April issue. Readers with a good memory and less impacted by this may remember what Moorcock said back in April, when more pages and pictures in colour were promised – clearly now that isn’t going to happen.

The rest is just the usual descriptions of the authors and their explanations of their stories, for those of us too unintelligent to work it out for ourselves.

Scream by Giles Gordon

Giles’s second published effort, after his story Line-Up on the Shore in the December 1967 issue of New Worlds .

Scream is another of those Ballardian-like stories divided into sections and often filled with stream of consciousness adjectives so beloved of New Worlds of late. It describes the effects of a single scream – in a city, on the people who hear it. Some panic and run whilst others are just confused. Result – a tale that feels like it wants to be seen as new, but really isn’t. There are lots of pseudo-meaningful phrases clumped together in a manner it would be wrong of me to describe as a story, emphasised by the point that the text has printed prose running at different angles around the page, which does little to endear the story to me as a reader.


Scream can be summed up as being full of allegorical symbolism, combined with language determined to grab your attention but to increasingly meaningless effect. It is memorable, but not always for good reasons. I hope I never have to come across the words “love juice” in New Worlds again. 2 out of 5.

Drake-Man Route by Brian W. Aldiss

And now on to the return of another regular and much-loved writer. Bad news, though – Drake-Man Route is another Charteris story. These have had diminishing returns for me since the first, Just Passing Through in the February 1967 issue of SF Impulse. And this one soon degenerates into the gobbledegook last seen in Auto-Ancestral Fracture in the December 1967 issue. Charteris has returned to England from Europe and travels north from London to try and communicate what he has seen. Lots of strange events occur as a result, with Charteris travelling with people who lapse into gibberish as a consequence of PCA Bombs in the Acid War, and meeting Brasher, the leader of the People of the new Proceed, the religious group created after the war. There are details on how Brasher got to this point, before they all drive off into an inconclusive ending marked by poetry, song lyrics and, guess what – more text running in unusual directions around the page.

Some may like these stories for their use of imaginative language, strange poetry, and drug-related symbolism. Others (like me) may be less impressed. Almost makes me rather read Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land instead, of which I’m really not a fan. I really hope there’s not many more of these. 2 out of 5.

Bug Jack Barron (Part 5 of 6) by Norman Spinrad


This one seems to have gone on forever. I now realise that with next issue being the final part I have been reading this story for over six months. Such an extended space of time does not help keeping up with this, although the summary of what has gone before helps, even if it now extends over a whole page in small print.

Things take a turn this issue, finally! After what feels like months of incessant ranty dialogue, Jack is contacted by the wife of Teddy Hennering, the Senator who co-founded the Freezer Bill with Howards and who Jack took to task live on air back in the first part of this story. He has been killed because he was about to reveal something about the Foundation – murdered by Howards, according to the wife. Jack dismisses the call as one borne of hysteria, but then the next day she is killed by a hit-and-run driver.

On Jack’s TV show that night negro Henry George Franklin makes a drunken claim that he had sold his daughter to a white man for $50 000. After the show Howards demands that Franklin is kept off the air and threatens to kill Barron if he doesn’t. Barron’s response? Feeling that Howards is somehow involved, he goes to visit Franklin in the Mississippi.

After four parts of lengthy dialogue and debate we finally get something happening. Spinrad moves the plot along and clears the decks for presumably what will be a final showdown between Barron and Howards in the final part. For that reason, it is better, but still feels weary. 3 out of 5.

Instructions for Visiting Earth by Christopher Logue

Poetry time. This one is about how aliens should blend into the background by being predictable and conformist, but at the same time tells us of the things that make humans human. Despite it being rather unmemorable poetry, this one gains points for being both pleasingly short and – gasp! – understandable. 3 out of 5.

Plastitutes by John Sladek


Remember last month’s New Forms, Sladek’s story of a form that wasn’t a form? Here, Sladek’s at it again, producing a comic strip-style story that reminded me of the Charles Platt cut-up diatribes we’ve seen in recent issues. I quite liked the Platt versions, this one less so, a tale of satirical nonsense involving IBM, pictures of car parts and fake conversations between idealised figures of manhood and womanhood. Difficult to describe – this has to be seen rather than understood. The McLuhan is strong in this one. 3 out of 5.

Methapyrilene Hydrochloride Sometimes Helps by Carol Emshwiller

The latest in a number of recent stories by Carol in New Worlds, who seems to be blazing a trail for telling odd stories from a female perspective. This time it is a dialogue given by a woman/robot/alien (who knows?) about the strange relationship she has with a male Doctor and his daughter. Lots of biological comments and various body parts are involved. As predicted, it is odd, and I’m not sure I get it. 2 out of 5.

Two Voices by D. M. Thomas

I approached this one with caution after the awful “Head Rape” poem of the March issue. Thankfully this one is not quite as traumatic, although much longer than what we normally get – more of a poetic essay than a poem, involving two different perspectives. Unsurprisingly the story involves sex, birth and death (I think.) The accompanying artwork feels like something out of a psychedelic-Beatles creation. So – marks for style, ambition and intelligence, if not for literary quality. 3 out of 5.

The Definition by Bob Marsden

Another story obsessed with sex, though using deliberately florid and shocking language in an attempt to shock. It tells of the night (and the morning) after a rock concert party, with the associated sex, drugs and rock and roll. I suspect it is meant to be satirical, but rather than being innovative and interesting, this was just silly – the point where a drunken character is hit on the head with “an autopenis” was the limit for me.  2 out of 5.

A Landscape of Shallows by Christopher Finch

Art  by Francois Vasseur

A tale that in its dry observations and depiction of its settings, not to mention in its detailed descriptions of vehicles, feels like a Ballard-style tale. Set in an Arabian country, Drover works for Delta Studios, who create advertising campaigns created by computer that use all senses – sight, hearing, taste and smell. There he meets Amaryllis, who tests the machine used to create Drover’s experiences, and this leads to a one-night stand, although the focus of the story seems to be on Drover’s occupation.

I must admit that for much of this story I couldn’t work out what was real and what was imagined by Drover as he relates his dream-like descriptions back. I suspect that this uncertainty may be the point of the plot. Some interesting ideas though – as well as the idea of fully immersive art, I quite liked the idea of the car radio that adapts to the user and their moods. Despite its relatively linear structure, I found I was enjoying this more than I thought I would, probably because it followed the needlessly poetic and pseudo-intellectual style of the previous stories. Still Ballard-light, though. It actually reminded me a little of the last Langdon Jones story published here, in its determination to change form between sections. 4 out of 5.

The Circular Railway by John Calder


As the Lead-In tells us, John’s last work here was Signals in the September 1966 issue. The Circular Railway is a story that on the surface does little more than describe a dreamlike journey taken on a railway, in poetic tones. But of course, being allegorical, it probably means more than it suggests. Overall, it makes me think of a typical train journey for me – one that is putting me to sleep. 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews – Dr. Moreau and the Utopians by C. C. Shackleton

No poetry reviews this month – instead, C. C. Shackleton (also known as Brian Aldiss) points out that the writings of H. G. Wells seem to be back in favour once more, and then addresses the idea that H. G. Wells has often been considered as an optimist. This may be surprising when you consider Wells’ works such as The Island of Dr, Moreau, which told of the horrors created by genetic manipulation.

Nevertheless, Shackleton eventually gets to the point of the review – that a book by Mark R. Hillegas entitled The Future As Nightmare looks at Wells’s ideas of utopia and how such ideas are regarded by his contemporaries and successors. Annoyingly, just as it seems to be getting to a point, the review is then truncated, to be continued next issue (optimistically).

An interesting article – but then as Aldiss/Shackleton is also a huge admirer of H. G. Wells, I would expect nothing less.

Summing up New Worlds

Clearly the long lay-off has given the New Worlds team chance to catch up on some poetry. As we had none in the last issue, this month we have two. I suspect that this may be new Associate Editor James Sallis’s fault.

We also seem to have had a new typewriter installed in the printing works, as we have not just one but two stories that mess around with
T
H
E
TEXT a BiT.

Aldiss has been guilty of such experimental prose before, whilst I think back to Alfred Bester’s The Demolished Man and The Stars My Destination back in the 1950’s.

I always feel that such textual acrobatics are more about style than substance, sadly. It’s not really new, nor really clever. And whilst I can appreciate the idea of writers playing with form, is it really necessary to have two doing the same thing in the same issue? It feels a little like desperation to me. The fact that, as much as Brian has done to retrieve New Worlds from the brink of bankruptcy, his Charteris stories do little or nothing for me doesn’t help.

But then I could say that about some of the other stories in this issue as well. The issue generally is filled with material that is odd, unpleasant, or both!

Most of all, this issue feels again like New Worlds is in a holding pattern. There are lots of middling or low scores, suggesting that this issue feels a bit like it is treading water. At its worst this feels like an issue that actually seems desperate, where there’s a need to publish but it is an issue made up of what’s available, rather than the best that New Worlds can be. There’s nothing here that I found particularly memorable, and the emphasis on trying to shock the readers seems to have diminishing returns – for me, at least.

This is a little worrying. I expect to find at least one story or article or review each issue to keep my interest and my subscription paid. This issue didn’t really have anything, although it could be argued that that in itself is a point of discussion.

As frustrating as this issue was, I know that I should be grateful to see anything this month – it is good to have New Worlds back again, even if who knows for how long.

I did not notice an advertisment for the next issue, worryingly.

Nevertheless, until next time – whenever that is!



 

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[June 10, 1968] Froth and Frippery (July 1968 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

A little goes a long way

Science fiction has a reputation for being a serious genre.  In tone, that is–it's still mostly dismissed by "serious" literary aficionados. Whether it's gloomy doomsday predictions or thrilling stellar adventure, laughs are usually scarce.

There is, however, a distinct thread of whimsy within the field.  Satire and farce can be found galore.  For instance, Robert Sheckley was a master of light, comedic sf short stories in the '50s (he's less good at it these days).  In moderation, fun/funny stories break up a turgid clutch of dour tales.

On the other hand, when you put a bunch together, particularly when only one of them is above average…

You get this month's issue of Galaxy.

You're too much, man


by Jack Gaughan

Before we get to the stories, in his editorial column Fred Pohl reminds Galaxy readers to submit proposals for the ending of the Vietnam War…in 100 words or fewer.

It makes me want to send something like this (with apologies to Laugh-In:

How I would end the War in Vietnam, by Henry Gibson.

"I would end the War in Vietnam by bombing the Vietnamese.  I would bomb them a lot.  When there are no more Vietnamese, we would win."

Thank you.

A Specter is Haunting Texas (Part 1 of 3), by Fritz Leiber


by Jack Gaughan

The lead piece is the beginning of a new serial by one of the old titans of science fiction.  It tells of one Christopher Crockett de la Cruz, an actor from a space colony orbiting the moon.  He has come down to Earth to ply his trade, a very risky endeavor as even lunar gravity is uncomfortable for him.  De la Cruz requires an integrated exoskeleton to get around.  That plus his emaciated, 8-foot frame makes him look like nothing so much as Death himself.  A handsome, well-featured Death, but Death just the same.  (Hmmm… a handsome, gaunt actor–I wonder on whom this character could be based!)

As strange as De la Cruz is, the situation on Earth is even stranger.  He makes touchdown in Texas, now an independent nation again in the aftermath of an atomic catastrophe in the late '60s.  Its inhabitants have all been modified to top eight feet as well (everything is bigger in Texas, by God's or human design), and they claim sovereignty of all North America, from the Guatemalan canal to the Northwest Territory.  And over the Mexicans in particular, who not only are excluded from the height-enhancing hormone, but many of whom are forced to live as thralls, harnessed with electric cloaks that make them mindless slaves.

Quickly, De la Cruz is embroiled in local politics, unwittingly used to spearhead a coup against the current President of Texas.  Along the way, the descriptions, the events, the setting are absurd to the extreme–from the reverence paid to "Lyndon the First", father of the nation, to the ridiculous courtships between De la Cruz and the two female characters.

It shouldn't work, and it almost doesn't, but underneath all the silliness, there is the skeleton of a plot and a fascinating world.  It doesn't hurt that Leiber is such a veteran; I've read froth for froth's sake, and this isn't it.  I'm willing to see where he goes with it.

Three stars.

McGruder's Marvels, by R. A. Lafferty


by Joe Wehrle, Jr.

The military needs a miniaturized component for its uber-weapon in two weeks, but the regular contractors can't guarantee delivery for two years.  The colonels in charge of procuring reject out of hand a bid that will provide parts for virtually nothing and almost instantly.  It is only when they start losing a global war that they grasp at the seemingly ludicrous straw.

Turns out the fellow who made the bid used to run a flea circus.  Naturally, now he's into miniaturization.  His parts really do work, and they really are cheap, but as can be expected, there's a catch.

If I hadn't known this story was written by Lafferty, I'd still have guessed it was written by Lafferty.  After all, he and whimsy are old companions.  It's more of an F&SF fantasy than SF, but it at least has the virtue of being memorable.  Three stars.

There Is a Tide, by Larry Niven


by Jeff Jones

The best piece of the issue is this one, featuring a new Niven character (the 180-year-old space prospector Louis Wu) in a familiar setting (Known Space).  This is set later than the rest of the stories, past the Bey Schaeffer tales, contemporaneous with Safe at Any Speed somewhere close to the year 3000.

Wu has gotten tired of people, and so he has gone off in his one-man ship to explore the stars.  His motive is fame–he wants to find himself a relic of the Slavers, the telepathic race of beings who ruled the galaxy and died in an interstellar war more than a billion years ago.  In a far off system, his deep radar pings off an infinitely reflective object in orbit around an Earthlike world.  Assuming it's a Slaver treasure box, kept in stasis these countless eons, he moves in for the salvage.  But a new kind of alien has gotten there first…

Once again, Niven does a fine job of establishing a great deal with thumbnail, throwaway lines.  In the end, Tide is a scientific gimmick story, the kind of which I'd expect to find in Analog (why doesn't Niven show up in Analog?), but the personal details elevate the story beyond its foundation.

It's funny; I read in a 'zine (fan or pro, I can't remember) that Niven writes hard SF that eschews characterization.  I think Niven writes quite unique and memorable characters and hard SF.  It's a welcome combination.

Four stars.

Bailey's Ark , by Burt K. Filer

by Brock

Now back to silliness.  Atomic tests have caused the oceans to flood the land.  After a few decades, only a few mountaintop communities are left, and soon they will be inundated.  Fourteen humans have been chosen to be put into cold storage for 1500 years, to emerge when the waters have receded.

All the animals have died, except for a few caged specimens, and no effort has been made to preserve them through the impending apocalypse.  It's up to one wily vet to save at least one species by sneaking it into the stasis Ark without anyone noticing.

Everything about this story is dumb, from the set up to the execution.  Its only virtues are that it's vaguely readable and that it's short.

Two stars.

For Your Information: Interplanetary Communications, by Willy Ley

This is a strange article which never quite makes a point.  The subject is sending messages from points around the solar system, but ultimately, Ley presents just two notable things:

1) A table of interplanetary distances (available in any decent astronomy book, and without even a convenient translation of kilometers to light-seconds/minutes/hours).

2) The assertion that satellites, artificial or natural, will be necessary as communications relays as direct sending of messages from planetary surface to planetary surface is prohibitively power-intensive.  It is left to the reader's imagination as to why that would be.

Sloppy, rushed stuff.  Two stars.

Dreamer, Schemer, by Brian W. Aldiss

Two captains of industry vie for control of a city.  One offers a collaboration; the other takes advantage of the offer, double crosses the offerer, and leaves him penniless.  When the double-crosser gets second thoughts, he subjects himself to a "play-out", a sort of mind trip where he gets to recreate and re-examine his decision in a fantasy world scenario.  The double-crossed, coincidentally, engages in a "play-out" at the same time, for the same reason.

This concept was done much more effectively more than a decade ago in Ellison's The Silver Corridor.  Two stars.

Factsheet Six, by John Brunner


by Jack Gaughan

A callous capitalist comes across "Factsheet Five", a rudely typed circular that details all the horrible injuries caused by the defects in various companies' products.  This and the prior Factsheets have had harmful impacts on the companies listed, from financial loss to outright bankruptcy.  The capitalist, who has his own industrial empire (and attendant quality-control issues), wants to find the author of the Factsheets so he can get inside knowledge to make a killing in the investor market.

Of course, we know who will be featured in Factsheet Six…

This is the kind of corny, Twilight Zone-y piece that shows up in the odd issue of F&SF.  I was sad to find it here.

Two stars.

Seconds' Chance, by Robin Scott Wilson


by Brand

Ever wonder who cleans up after the James Bonds and Kelly Robinsons of the world, settling insurance claims, smoothing diplomatic feathers, etc.?  This is their story.

Their rather pointless, one-joke-spread-over-too-many-pages, story.

Two stars.

When I Was in the Zoo, by A. Bertram Chandler


by Vaughn Bodé

Here's a shaggy dog story, told White Hart style, about an Aussie fisherman who gets abducted by jellyfish aliens, exhibited in a zoo with a collection of terrestrial animals, and then seduced for professional reasons by one of the lady jellyfish.

Frankly, I'm not quite sure what else to say about it other than it's the sort of tale you'd expect from A. Bertram Chandler writing a White Hart story–competent, maritime, Australian, and forgettable.

Three stars.

2001: A Space Odyssey, by Lester del Rey

The issue ends with a review panning 2001 as New Wave nihilism, meaningless save for the vague suggestion that intelligence is always evil.  This is a facile take.  It's possible 2001 is what I call a "Rorschach film", like, say, Blow Up, where the director throws a bunch of crap on the screen and leaves it to the viewer to invent a coherent story.  However, there are enough clues throughout the film to make the film reasonably comprehensible.  Moreover, there is a book that explains everything in greater detail.

I'm not saying 2001 is perfect, and I imagine those who had to sit through the longer, uncut version enjoyed it less (save for Chip Delany, who apparently preferred it.  I'll never know which I would have liked best, since the director not only trimmed down the film after release, but burned the cut footage!) But it is a brilliant film, extremely innovative, and it's worth a watch.

Starving for a bite

After eating all that cotton candy, with only the smallest morsel of meat to go with it, I am absolutely famished for something substantial.  Thankfully, I'm about to hop a Boeing 707 for a trip to Japan, where not only the food will be exquisite, but I can catch up on all the 4 and 5 star stories recommended by my fellow Travelers in earlier months.

Stay tuned for reports from the Orient!




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[June 2, 1968] Necessary Evils (July 1968 IF)

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by David Levinson

The Baltimore Nine

You may recall one of the more spectacular draft protests last October when Father Philip Berrigan and three other men forced their way in a Selective Service office in Baltimore, Maryland and poured blood into filing cabinets containing draft records. Father Berrigan has acted again, this time along with eight others. The group included Tom Lewis, who was also part of the earlier protest, Berrigan’s brother Daniel, also a priest, and two women.

The Baltimore Nine shortly after their arrest. Fr. Philip Berrigan is 2nd from the left in the back row.

On Friday May 17th, the group entered the Selective Service office in Catonsville, Maryland and began stuffing several hundred A-1 draft records into wire incinerator baskets. Clerk Mary Murphy tried to stop them, but was restrained by one of the protestors. They then made their way back outside and set fire to the records using home-made napalm while quietly reciting the Lord’s Prayer. A short time later, they were arrested, and firefighters extinguished the fire. The following Monday, they sent flowers and a letter of apology signed “The Baltimore Nine” to Mrs. Murphy and the other clerks.

On one hand, the escalation to fire is concerning. Imitators may be less inclined to ensure that no one is harmed. On the other hand, the sight of a group including two priests and a monk defying what they call an unjust war and an unjust law may make people think, especially Catholics. These aren’t a bunch of hippies and long-haired college students who just don’t want to fight in a war.

Of war and women

Two themes run through this month’s IF: war as a necessary evil and female characters who are present solely as motivation for male characters. To be fair, there are as many female protagonists as there are plot pawns, but the latter outweigh the former.

Abbott and his men are the first to reach the Sleeper’s chamber. Art by Gray Morrow

The Sleeper with Still Hands, by Harlan Ellison

For 600 years the Sleeper has rested in a chamber beneath the Sargasso Sea, reading everyone’s thoughts and smoothing out ideas of aggression and war. Now, two men, Leaf and Laurrayne, believing that the enforced peace has held humanity back and stopped progress, have learned to shield their thoughts from the Sleeper and taught the skill to others. Each has sent a group to be the first to find the Sleeper and turn off his prying mind so that “Man’s Destiny could be fulfilled.”

Is this the true path of progress? Art by Gaughan

This is far from Harlan’s best work, but it’s still decent (if you like Ellison). He’s trying to say something profound at the end, but he’s being too obscure in the execution.

Three stars.

We Fused Ones, by Perry A. Chapdelaine, Sr.

Twins Rebecca and John Ellents were captured by the Bewegal and converted into organic micro-computers. Together they tell their journey from targeting computer to child’s toy and how they hope to rescue humanity from the alien threat.

Bodé’s style works surprisingly well in this horrific picture. Art by Vaughn Bodé

Chapdelaine’s sophomore effort improves on his first. It’s still a bit long, and we could have done with less of the gruesome conversion process. Maybe the most interesting part is watching the steady downgrading of military technology to increasingly less important civilian tasks.

Three stars.

If—and When, by Lester del Rey

Most science fiction, according to Lester del Rey, asks either “what happens if” or “what happens when.” In this new feature, he’ll be looking at various items in the news that fit those categories and how they might apply to science fiction. This time he offers an interesting study on keeping the immune system from rejecting transplanted organs, quasars, and the idea that there is matter that decreases in mass as it approaches the speed of light. It’s not unlike Ted Thomas’ Science Springboard over in F&SF, though del Rey seems to have a better grasp on some of what he’s talking about. Maybe because he doesn’t really go beyond the “That’s interesting” point. We’ll see how this feature shakes out over the next few months.

Three stars.

Gone to the Graveyards, Everyone, by Paul M. Moffett

Thanks to the Life Maintainer, war has become a competition. Death is almost never Permanent, and the Limited War is an important part in the world’s economy. What happens when there’s a shift in economic needs?

A killed soldier on his way back for repair. Art by Wehrle

This month’s new author is clearly inspired by Mack Reynolds, both the latter’s Joe Mauser stories and economic themes. Not bad, though it could have used a bit of tightening here and there and fewer capital letters. I wouldn’t object to more from this author.

Three stars.

The Muschine, by Burt K. Filer

Metal is extremely rare on the planet Isolde, so the human colonists have made do with organic machines, from the muscles that turn the screw on protagonist Luke Owens’s ship to intelligent biobots like Rudder, who steers it. Something has started wrecking boats along the coast, and it’s going to take expensive help from Earth to solve the problem. Even that may not be enough.

Luke and the man from Earth try to negotiate. Art by Brand.

After some rocky early stories, Filer may be improving. This is a fair, if flawed, tale whose greatest sin is that it’s too long.

A low three stars.

The Soft Shells, by Basil Wells

Vahni is a Turman, moving on from finlin childhood to adolescence as her people move from the sea to the land. To her distress, she is assigned to the household of the Soft Shell Jackson, the only one of his kind on the planet. At first, anyway. Her new father’s greatest concern is what will happen when more of his kind arrive.

The Turmans return to their land city. Art by Wehrle

Wells started out in the 1940s and took a break for the first half of the 1960s. Since his return, he’s tried to write stories that fit more modern tastes with limited success. This is probably his best effort so far, though the open ending is a bit unsatisfying.

Three stars.

The Hides of Marrech, by C.C. MacApp

Judson Kruger is undercover on the planet Marrech, trying to track down the ring selling the hides of the otter-like natives.

Kruger has a run-in with some of the locals. Art by Vaughn Bodé

Presumably, this is the same protagonist as Inspector Kruger from a couple of earlier stories. The good news is that, while the tone is light, MacApp isn’t trying to be outrageously funny in a Ron Goulart style. It’s a serviceable story.

Three stars.

In the Oligocene, by John Thomas

A man’s obsessive love drives him to invent time travel after the object of his affection is killed.

Oligocene fauna are mostly harmless. Art by Brock

Thomas’s second outing is so different from the first, you might think they were written by different authors. It’s hard to say much about this story without giving the whole thing away. My biggest problem is that Paula is more plot device than person. Events happen to her, and nothing she says or does has any effect. On the other hand, that might be intentional; it would be appropriate.

Three stars.

The Cure-All, by Win Marks

Nick has a summer job at NASA as an orderly who collects samples from returning astronauts. Then an astronaut who went out an albino and returned black-haired and brown-eyed sneezes on him.

Mildly amusing, but it’s too long, and the quarantine procedures are absurdly lax.

A low three stars.

Rogue Star (Part 2 of 3), by Frederik Pohl and Jack Williamson

Andy Quamodian has rushed back to Earth at the behest of Molly Zalvidar. Cliff Hawk, the man she chose over Andy, has created a rogue star, a sentient star which is not part of the galactic community. The rogue has absorbed Cliff’s consciousness and decides it’s in love with Molly. A bunch of pointless stuff happens, and it kidnaps her and takes her to a highly radioactive cave. To be concluded.

The rogue inhabits a mining machine to interact with Molly. Art by Gaughan

Ugh. Molly is completely passive except when she does something stupid to put herself in greater danger. Protagonist Andy Quam is little better, running around with his hair on fire and achieving nothing. This collaboration between two good authors is so much less than the sum of its parts.

Two stars.

Summing up

There it is: a lukewarm heap of mediocrity with a bad finish. For a while there, it felt like IF was turning into a magazine that deserved those back-to-back Hugos, but there’s been a marked decline in the last couple of months. Maybe it’s just the serial. Meanwhile, the new feature has potential, though the first offering is a bit scattered. I’ll give it time to find its feet. Our Man in Fandom seems to be gone, which is all right. It felt like Carter had run out of things to say. Still, Pohl could have acknowledged his contribution over the last couple of years.

Chandler will probably be serviceable. Maybe Zelazny can lift us out of the doldrums.




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[May 31, 1968] Euler's Issue (June 1968 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Constants

The universe is based on a host of magic numbers.  Without them, the cosmos would be entirely different and probably uninhabitable.  Some of these "constants" are familiar to the layman, Pi perhaps being the most so.  Engineers are familiar with electron-Volts and atomic masses.  Chemists know Avogadro's number, the relationship between atomic mass and metric mass.  Mathematicians know e.

e is a truly fascinating number.  Roughly equal to 2.71828, it is the fundament of exponential growth. For example, if you have a $1 compounded annually at 100% interest, at the end of a year you'll have $2. If you have $1 compounded monthly at 100% interest, at the end of the year you'll have $2.62. If you have $1 compounded continuously (i.e. over an infinite number of instants), you will have $2.71828 at the end of the year.

In calculus, if you integrate the function e to the x power, you get… e to the x power!  Conversely, of course, the derivative of e to the x is e to the x.  That means that e to the x is the one function whose rate of change is the same as its position is the same as its acceleration.

What does this have to do with Analog Science Fiction, particularly this latest issue?


by Kelly Freas

Well, when you have the same editor for 30 years, and he hires the same writers every issue, and he has a rigid editorial policy that eschews innovation and prioritizes certain pseudo-scientific fetishes, you end up with a certain kind of consistency.  Not necessarily a desirable consistency, but consistency nevertheless.  Read on, and you'll see what I mean.

e gad

The Royal Road, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

You know you're in trouble when Chris Anvil gets the cover.  Actually, this continuan of the saga of Captain Roberts and his crew of two isn't so bad.  Previous installments had the trio serendipitously developing a mind-control ray and using it to wrest a planet from a despotic computer.  Then the three posed as nobility to sway said planet further.  It was all very glib and distasteful, and I didn't like it.

This story spends two thirds of its length rehashing the events of those stories for new readers and then bringing the trio back, making it a quartet (with Bergen from a story in the December 1967 issue), and unleashing them on a new problem.  A somewhat primitive planet is fractured into more than a dozen petty kingdoms, and the Interstellar Patrol needs a majority of them to agree in order to establish a base.  In the last third of Royal Road, we get the solution to this conundrum. It mostly involves creating an economic catastrophe that only kingdoms favorable to the Imperial Patrol are equipped to address, thus putting these kingdoms on top.  Anvil does note that the gambit could have killed millions, so at least things aren't quite so glib as before.

At least now the quartet of Captain Roberts has been transformed into a sort of Retief series.  Anything's an improvement.  Anyway, I didn't hate it.  A low three stars, I guess. 

No Shoulder to Cry On, by Hank Davis


by Leo Summers

After the vastly superior alien federation shows up on Earth, a sociologist is brought back to see what he assumes will be their advanced technology.  Instead, it turns out that humans have been quite a bit more successful than the ee-tees, at least in one vital field.

A Twilight Zone episode writ small, but inoffensive.  Three stars.

Duplex, by Howard L. Myers


by Kelly Freas

Kent is a person with a literal split personality.  His left half is under the control of a silent partner, dubbed "Pard", while Kent, nominally the "dominant" personality, runs the right half.  Together, they lead a pleasant life as an extremely successful concert pianist.  That is until Pard gets them both tangled up in a spy conspiracy that threatens not just the world…but themselves!

I liked the story's handling of mental handicaps, and it's a pleasant piece overall.  Three stars, but the highest three stars in the issue.

It's RIGHT Over Your Nose!, by Ben Bova


by Kelly Freas

In this science-ish article, Bova suggests that quasars, highly red-shifted quasi-stellar radio sources, may in fact be Bussard ramjets run by aliens.  Thus, rather than being natural phenomena of tremendous power far outside the galaxy, they are artificial phenomena of middlin' power within.

I tend to prefer natural over artificial solutions to problems.  Plus, why is every star-drive in the galaxy going away from us?

Still, it's readable, if breathless.  Three stars.

The Mind Reader, by Rob Chilson


by Leo Summers

Robot mini-planes prove to be decisive in the next Southeast Asian war.  This story is told mostly in dialogue between two people in a sort of "As you know, Bob…" fashion.

The concept is interesting and unique.  The story is not compellingly told.  Two stars.

Satan's World (Part 2 of 4), by Poul Anderson


by Kelly Freas

Finally, we have the next installment in Satan's World, which started last month.  The crew of Muddlin' Through was split up when David Falkayn was abducted by Serendpity Inc., a galactic information clearing house.  This provoked Polesotechnic League magnate Nicholas Van Rijn to take a personal hand in things, sending Adzel the saurian centaur to retrieve the poor lad. 

Turns out Falkayn (predictably) had been brainwashed.  It also turns out that Serendipity is working with, perhaps in the thrall of, a race of mysterious aliens known as the Elders.  The ulterior motive of this ostensibly neutral organization suggests some new power may be planning some kind of galactic conquest.

Meanwhile, Chee Lan the foul-mouthed Cynthian and Falkayn head to the world Serendipity told him about in part one–the frozen world in a cometary orbit that is closing in on its star, Beta Crucis.  This will cause its cryosphere to melt, revealing a mother-lode of precious metals.  But Van Rijn's team isn't the only one interested in the world, aptly dubbed "Satan".  Twenty UFOs have just dropped out of hyperspace in the vicinity, and they don't look friendly…

Anderson has a lot of tics I don't like, particularly his drawing of characters as…well, assemblages of tics.  Adzel is a placid Buddhist, Falkayn is a cipher, Chee Lan is a salty Little Old Lady from Pasadena, and Van Rijn is a lustier, more Dutch version of Raymond Burr's Ironside.

The author also devotes lots of ink to the physical descriptions of his astronomical creations, which I'm sure are fascinating to some, but perhaps are most gratifying for the three cents a word they earn him.

That said, just as I start to get bored, I find myself turning the page and reading on.  So, another three star segment.

Less than Three

So, just like the constant "e", Analog clocks in at just under three.  Indeed, that's how I feel about the magazine as a whole lately.  Sure, there are better issues than others, and sure, there are some standout pieces, but for the most part, I find myself doing anything–cleaning the bathroom ceilings, cataloging my 45s, sorting stamps–rather than read Analog.  Not that I hate the experience when I get to it.  It simply doesn't give the thrill of anticipation that Galaxy still gives me after all of these years.  Even F&SF, which hasn't been terrific since 1962, retains residual goodwill.

Of course, this month's Analog clocks in at 2.9 (rounding up 2.85), which is better than Fantasy and Science Fiction (2.6).  But it's worse than Galaxy (3.1) and IF (3.3).

It was a really thin month for magazines, and out of the four that were published, the better-than-three-star stories would barely fill one of them.  At least women wrote 11% of new fiction pieces, which is on the higher end lately.

Well, here's hoping that next month's Analog picks a different constant to ape, if it can.  And let's hope it's not Planck's Constant!




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[May 10, 1968] Horse race (June 1968 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Three and Two make Two

I imagine Vegas bookies are tearing their hair out trying to predict the Presidential race this year.  On January 1, the hard money would have been on President Johnson beating Governor George Romney in a fairly easy race.  Then McCarthy and Nixon won in New Hampshire.  The former sent LBJ announcing his resignation and the latter gave the former Vice-President the first victory of his own since 1950.

Then Bobby Kennedy jumped in, trying to steal McCarthy's lunch.  Inevitably, Vice President Humphrey threw his hat in the ring, instantly commanding the loyalty of most democratic party bosses.  Meanwhile, Romney's dropped out, but Nelson Rockefeller, who said he wasn't going to play this year, has jumped in.

So, who will face each other come Labor Day?  It's anyone's guess, especially since both McCarthy and Kennedy just won recent primaries.  I guess we'll have to see if the New York Governor's campaign has legs, and if Humphrey's position translates to delegates at the convention.

Stay tuned…

Nine to Rule Them All

It's similarly a horse race with the latest issue of Galaxy, which presents a solid batch of stories.  Which one is the best?  That's a hard choice, too!


by Paul E. Wenzel

But first, the editorial.  Remember a few months ago F&SF ran competing ads from SF authors for and against the war in Vietnam?

Well, now Pohl's mags are doing it.

Pohl (Galaxy's editor) says it's not just enough to bitch about it.  Someone needs to come up with a solution.  He figures SF fans are about the smartest people around, so why don't we try our hand at it?

So now there's a contest, first prize $1,000, details at the bottom of this article.  Of course, given that you can't devote more than 100 words to the issue, and given that the war has been going on since 1945, in one way or another, and given that a lot of smart people have been trying to fix this thing…I somehow feel 100 words is not enough.

Or as my friend the divorce lawyer likes to say: "Imagine trying to fix a car.  Now try to imagine fixing that car while another party is actively trying to dismantle it."

Yeah.  Lots of luck, Pohl.

On to the stories!

The Beast That Shouted Love, by Harlan Ellison


by Jack Gaughan

Ever wonder why all people seem to go psycho all of sudden?  Why a race with countless religious texts devoted to peace, harmony, and brotherhood just goes buggy every so often?

What if some other planet, in order to preserve their peace, harmony, and brotherhood, is beaming all their psycho energy to us?  Sort of a bad emotions disposal process.

This is one of Ellison's lesser pieces.  It probably means a lot to him, but it's rather disjointed and vague and not as profound as he wants it to be.

Three stars.

How We Banned the Bombs, by Mack Reynolds


by Vaughn Bodé

Right now, the world population is 3.5 billion and rising.  Naturally, this has been the cause of concern and the topic of more than a few science fiction stories.  Bombs is one of the lesser efforts.

Reynolds posits a Reunited Nations government so powerful that, in response to the Population Explosion, it can enforce a ten-year ban on childbirth through mandatory provision of contraceptives to women.  At the end of the ban, it turns out that the contraceptive drug's effect was permanent, and all human women are completely sterile.

This, by the way, is the end of the story.  The rest of it involves characters talking to each other, telling tales they all know about how the world ended up in this predicament (which doesn't make for much of a story).

The whole premise is silly.  The population in this projected, not-too-distant future is 3.5 billion, same as it is now, yet resources are so scarce, they're banning the production of alcohol so as to husband their grain crops.  Somehow, the ReUN can sterilize EVERY woman on Earth, none slipping through the cracks.  And then, no one foresees or predetermines that the universal contraception has adverse effects.

In the words of Laugh-In's Joanne Worley: "Dummmmmb!"

One star.

Detour to Space, by Robin Scott Wilson


(uncredited artist)

Object 3574 is circling the Earth in a polar orbit.  Unannounced, the General is convinced it's a secret Russkie bomb.  NASA's long-hair thinks otherwise.  The majority decides to send up an Apollo to check it out.  The object is covered in green slime and pebbled with tektites, suggesting extraterrestrial origin…

There's a lot to like about this tale, especially the sting at the end of it.  Scott convincingly describes the apprehension with which we Americans greet the arrival of a new star in the heavens.  I know I scour the papers and call my Vandenberg buddies whenever anything goes up to get some insight into otherwise classified launches.

Where the story beggars credibility is the use of Apollo spacecraft, launched from Vandenberg, to intercept 3574.  You just can't do it–there's no way to get a Saturn there.  Much more likely would be to send up an Air Force Gemini (they're making them for the planned Manned Orbiting Laboratory).  But that would have killed the story.

This is what happens when you know too much about a subject, reviewing a story by someone who doesn't quite know enough… three stars.

Daisies Yet Ungrown, by Ross Rocklynne


Joe Wehrle, Jr.

After the big bombs created the time-space Rift, God told Rickert to jump through with Sears catalog robots and claim a new world 350,000 trillion light years from Earth.  But this is so far away that God's grace cannot reach, and Lucifer's tool, the newcomer Dorothy, has arrived to take his planet away from him.

This is an odd, poetic story that you, at first, think is going to be satirical, sort of a cross between Sheckley and Bunch.  Instead, it's kind of pretty and sweet, way different than I was expecting.

Three stars.

For Your Information: Jules Verne, Busy Lizzy and Hitler, by Willy Ley

This is a pretty interesting piece on attempts using a gun rather than a rocket to fire a projectile, if not into space, at least a terrific distance.  Essentially, it's like a rocket, but with the propellant on the outside.

Long story short: rockets are better.  Four stars.

Waiting Place, by Harry Harrison


(uncredited artist)

A man taking the matter transmitter home finds himself in the future version of Devil's Island, a colony for hardened criminals.  Surely, there has been some kind of malfunction, for he can remember no crime.  But the wheels of justice never make a mistake, or do they?

This would be a fairly slight tale if not for the execution.  Luckily, Harrison (who I understand has just retired from the editor helm of Fantastic and Amazing) is a master of execution.

Four stars.

The Garden of Ease, by Damon Knight


by Jack Gaughan

As expected, the first adventure of Thorinn, a human raised by trolls in a Nordic nightmare, has a sequel.  Last time, the resourceful Thorinn had been tossed into a deep well as an offering to the gods to end a ceaseless winter.  Making his way through the caves he found, Thorinn discovered a hatch that opened not onto but above a new world.  This story details what he finds below.

In an almost Oz-like setting, the people of the Vale enjoy a life of complete ease.  The grasshopper men and the doughwomen and the fancymen and the children, they eat the food that grows on trees and bushes, they frolic, they discuss, and when they want adventure, they seal themselves up in the pleasure pods for the night…or sometimes an eternity.

Thorinn is the snake in the garden, slowly poisoning the place with his foreignness and his willingness to kill.  Ultimately, he hatches an escape plan, but not before leaving his mark.

This is an interesting episode, but not as compelling or as clever as the first one.  Three stars.

Booth 13, by John Lutz

Here's a new author, or at least, new to me.  John paints a grim future in which populational ennui has settled in.  All that's left is war, the tranquilizer lysogene, and the death booths.  If life gets just a bit too monotonous, there's always a quick and easy exit–and now, people are taking it in ever-increasing numbers.

It's not badly done, but my biggest issue is not enough explanation is given as to why everyone is so melancholy.  Perhaps that's the point–if you give everyone an easy out, even the mildest inconveniences can trigger a snap decision.  Or maybe the author is simply extrapolating from the current, profound American despondency.

At the very least, I liked it better than Sales of a Deathman.

Three stars.

Goblin Reservation (Part 2 of 2), by Clifford D. Simak


by Gray Morrow

Last time, if you recall, Pete Maxwell has gone off to do research at the crystal planet, a world with the accumulated knowledge of two universes (it had lived through the last Big Crunch).  The fading intelligences of the planet offered all of its wisdom in exchange for The Artifact, a featureless black object dating back to the Jurassic period.  When Maxwell got back to Earth, he found that he'd already come back, duplicated by some quirk of matter transfer, and died.

This datum takes a back seat to bigger concerns–the Wheelers, bags of insect colonies bent on acquiring the lore of the crystal planet, have already purchased The Artifact, and once it is in their possession, plan to take over the universe.  It is up to Maxwell, his tentative ally Carol, her sabre-tooth tiger Sylvester, their Neanderthal pal Alley Oop, the Ghost, William Shakespeare, the librarian who sold The Artifact, the goblin O' Toole, and several bridge-dwelling trolls to somehow stop the transaction before it's too late.

I must say, Simak pulls off a large set of emotional tones very well.  You feel the sense of impending dread when it seems the Wheelers have clinched the deal.  The comedic scenes are genuinely amusing.  Yet, there is a grounding to the story that keeps it from being Laumerian or Anvilian lampoon.  The revelations of the true nature of the fairies, little people, banshees, and whatnot are pretty good, too, though a bit abrupt.  Perhaps they'll have more time to breathe in the novel version.

The only bit I had trouble with was The Wheelers, for whom I felt sympathy once I learned their motivation.  There's an undertone of unconscious racism where they're concerned–they're bad because they're icky, different.  When you learn what their status had been vis-à-vis the crystal planet, it all becomes a bit more unsettling.

Nevertheless, pleasant reading by a master.  Four stars.

Picking a Winner

Well.  It's obvious which story was the loser here (let's just call the Reynolds tale 'Harold Stassen').  But as to a winner, well that's a little harder.  Several of the three-stars are quite nice; my four-star to the Harrison may be arbitrary.  We can exclude the Simak because it's a serial, but it anchors this and the last issue well.

I suppose in an issue where (all but one of) the stories are good, the real winner is…us.

Happy reading!  And don't forget to write to Pohl…




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[May 2, 1968] The Thing with Feathers (June 1968 IF)

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by David Levinson

Hope, according to Emily Dickinson, is “the thing with feathers” which sings and never stops. Perhaps, but there are times when it becomes very hard to hear its song. After the devastating murder of Dr. King, with the war in Indo-China seemingly going nowhere, and with unrest growing in the streets of the Western world (Germany is only one example; France, Belgium, and Italy are all seeing similar problems), hope does seem to have fallen silent.

A glimmer of hope

Just over a year ago, I reported on a military coup and counter-coup in Sierra Leone which prevented the first peaceful transition of power between rival political parties in sub-Saharan Africa. Now, the National Reform Council led by Brigadier Andrew Juxon-Smith has been overthrown in turn. Calling themselves the Anti-Corruption Revolutionary Movement, a group of non-commissioned officers staged another coup, arresting Juxon-Smith and his deputy on April 19th and promptly named Colonel John Amadu Bangura Governor-General. He promised a quick return to civilian rule and followed through with the promise. Only three days later, Bangura stepped down, naming Siaka Stevens, who had been declared the winner of the election last year, as Prime Minister. At the same time, Banja Tejan Sie, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, became Governor-General. Stevens was sworn in (again) on April 26th. The restoration of civilian government is a promising sign.

l. New Governor-General Banja Tejan Sie. r. New Prime Minister Siaka Stevens.

Bleak House

While this month’s IF may not be the Slough of Despond, the two best stories in it are dark indeed. Perhaps to make up for the bleakness, Fred Pohl also goes looking for a bit of optimism. After running the ads for and against continuing participation in the war in Vietnam last seen in the March issue of F&SF (on facing pages, which is much more editorially balanced), Fred announces a contest looking for the best answers on what to do about Vietnam. They’re offering $100 each for the five best responses. That’s a nice chunk of change, but don’t hold out your hopes for solutions that won’t start World War III and/or are politically feasible.

No one has ever seen the prison of Brass from the outside. Art by Vaughn Bodé

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

Andreas Quamodian (Andy Quam to his friends) is a Monitor of the Companions of the Star. When his college crush Molly Zalvidar asks for his help, he rushes back to Earth, even though she chose Cliff Hawk over him nine years ago. Hawk and the Reefer (that is, someone from the Reefs of Space out beyond the orbit of Pluto) are attempting to create a rogue star, a sentient star which is not part of the galactic community. Shortly after Andy arrives in Wisdom Creek, the rogue star breaks free and begins to grow. To be continued.

A dangerous experiment goes awry. Art by Gaughan

I came to this sequel to The Reefs of Space and Starchild with some trepidation, because I didn’t much care for either of those. Both stories were incredibly pulpy, just weren’t all that enjoyable, and the second ended in a wave of mysticism. This story is set hundreds of years after the others, which at least gives it room to be its own thing. It’s still extremely pulpy, but at least it’s moderately interesting so far.

Three stars.

The Guerrilla Trees, by H.H. Hollis

Ace war correspondent Har-Gret “Haggie” Harker has come to planet B44(3) – known formally as La Selva and insultingly as YipYap – to cover Earth’s role in the civil war. Earth is backing the Yips as a strategic matter in the larger struggle against the bacterial empire of Betelgeuse and is throwing an increasing amount of money, materiel and men into the conflict, even though reports consistently claim the war is going well. The locals are dendroids, people resembling sentient, mobile trees. Haggie witnesses the burning of one of their groves (and some of the locals), banters with the boys in the press pool, and struggles with her growing feelings for commanding General Borgen Traven.

Art by Jeff Jones

This rather obvious Vietnam parallel is like nothing else Hollis has written. He’s been improving as a writer, but all his stories have been light in tone, especially those involving the scoundrel Gallegher. This, however, is deadly serious and very much on point. I have no doubt the Yips and Yaps are tree-like to comment the way the U. S. Army is using napalm and defoliants to destroy wide swaths of the jungle in Vietnam, and the bits with the press pool feel extremely realistic. I understand Hollis is a lawyer, but if you told me he’s been a war correspondent, I’d believe you. A couple of his tics from his lighter stories slip through here and there, but on the whole this is very good, though bleak.

Four dark stars.

Cage of Brass, by Samuel R. Delany

Former architecture student Jason Cage has been condemned to Brass, a prison for the worst offenders in the galaxy. Thanks to a quirk of architecture, he is able to converse with fellow inmates Hawk and Pig, telling them about his time in Venice and what brought him to his fate.

Cage about to commit his crime. Art by Gaughan

Another beautifully told tale by Delany. Apart from the opening and closing paragraphs, the entire story is dialogue, not even using tags like “he said,” and it works perfectly. Cage’s descriptions of Venice are appropriately poetic, and the voices of Hawk and Pig fit the characters wonderfully. Worth the price of the magazine all by itself.

Four stars.

The Mother Ship, by James Tiptree, Jr.

Max runs a small C.I.A. operation that fronts as a government ad agency. When Earth makes its first contact with aliens, the group will play a vital role. The aliens come from somewhere in the direction of Capella and look like attractive human women… eight and a half foot tall human women. But are they friendly or a threat?

What can frighten an eight foot tall woman? Art by Wehrle

This is a big improvement over Tiptree’s first effort. Max’s C.I.A. unit feels very real, much more George Smiley than James Bond. It makes me wonder if Tiptree has a background in intelligence, but see my earlier comments about H.H. Hollis. It’s a decent story, but – and it’s a big but – I’m not at all convinced by the sexual psychology that underlies the story. Still, it’s an improvement. If Tiptree stays out of John Campbell’s clutches, we might get a decent author out of it.

Three stars.

House of Ancestors, by Gene Wolfe

Joe is a construction worker on disability, with a nail lodged in his heart; stress or exertion could cause it to come loose and kill him. He won’t have surgery to have it removed, because if he dies during the operation his wife Bonnie and the child they’re expecting won’t be provided for. Or so he tells himself. The couple are on their way to the ‘91 World’s Fair to get a pre-opening look at The Thing, an enormous plastic model of a DNA molecule containing a series of exhibits on genetics. When their party can’t get in, the others leave Joe behind while they look for someone to open the building. Meanwhile, Joe makes his way inside and has several strange experiences while chasing a vandal who is wrecking the exhibits.

Joe in hot pursuit of the vandal. Art by Brand

Gene Wolfe makes his second appearance in IF with a much more straightforward tale than his first story. While I’m not entirely sure I believe the mechanisms in the The Thing that drive the story, it’s readable and fairly entertaining. What is lacks is the joy and pleasure in the use of language found in “Mountains Like Mice.”

Three stars.

Publish and Perish, by John Thomas

Gleason is an assistant professor at an unnamed university. An associate professorship has opened up, and he finds himself in competition with fellow assistant professor Farrington for the spot. Unfortunately, he was unaware of the university’s unorthodox method of determining who is best suited for promotion.

Both the title and artwork give much of the story away. Art by Brock

According to his bio, our new author is a film reviewer, so you’d expect his style to be much more visual than it is. It’s not a bad story, competently told, but I’d have gone running to the police.

A low three stars.

The Bird-Brained Navigator, by A. Bertram Chandler

Commodore John Grimes has been sent to the planet Tharn to resolve a problem that has grounded the Rim Griffon; the officers refuse to sail with each other or the captain, who has been abusive and insulting to all of them. He resolves the issue, but the navigator, whom the captain dubbed a bird-brain, deserts and joins a faction of local bad-guys. Grimes assists the authorities in tracking him down, but an untimely act of derring-do leaves him in the navigator’s clutches. He gives his parole, and will have to find a loophole in order to escape.

The other bird-brained navigator. Art by Vaughn Bodé

Grimes is becoming something of a staple in IF. Fortunately, Chandler is fairly adept at making the stories different enough to keep them interesting. How you feel about the other stories in the series should tell you if you’ll like this or not, and if you haven’t read one before, this is a fair entry point.

Three stars.

Summing up

All in all, this is a pretty good issue. A couple of stories may be forgettable, but none of them is really bad, and while two stories cast a pall over the issue, they are both very good. Which is better? I go back and forth. The Delany is beautiful and poetic as Delany often is; Hollis is saying something about a major issue of the day. Take your pick.

New Ellison is good, and at long last a new feature.




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