Category Archives: Science Fiction/Fantasy

Magazine/Anthology

[April 9, 1963] IFfy… (May 1963 IF Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Every month, science fiction stories come out in little digest-sized magazines.  It used to be that this was pretty much the only way one got their SF fix, and in the early '50s, there were some forty magazines jostling for newsstand space.  Nowadays, SF is increasingly sold in book form, and the numbers of the digests have been much reduced.  This is, in many ways, for the good.  There just wasn't enough quality to fill over three dozen monthly publications.

That said, though there are now fewer than ten regular SF mags, editors still can find it challenging to fill them all with the good stuff.  Editor Fred Pohl, who helms three magazines, has this problem in a big way.  He saves the exceptional stories and known authors (and the high per word rates) for his flagship digest, Galaxy, and also for his newest endeavor, Worlds of Tomorrow.  That leaves IF the straggler, filled with new authors and experimental works. 

Sometimes it succeeds.  Other times, like this month, it is clear that the little sister in Pohl's family of digests got the short end of the stick.  There's nothing stellar in the May 1963 IF, but some real clunkers, as you'll see.  I earned my pay (such as it is) this month!

The Green World, by Hal Clement

Hal Clement (or Harry Stubbs, if you want to know the name behind the pseudonym) has made a name for himself as a writer of ultrahard science fiction, lovingly depicting the nuts and bolts of accurate space-borne adventure.  The Green Planet details the archaeological and paleontological pursuits of a human expedition on an alien planet.  The puzzle is simple — how can a world not more than 50 million years old possess an advanced ecosystem and a hyper-evolved predator species? 

Clement's novella, which comprises half the issue, is not short on technical description.  What it lacks, however, is interesting characters and a compelling narrative.  I bounced off this story several times.  Each time, I asked myself, "Is it me?"  No, it's not.  It's a boring story, and the pay-off, three final pages that read like a cheat, aren't worth the time investment.  One star.

Die, Shadow!, by Algis Budrys

Every once in a while, you get a story that is absolutely beautiful, filled with lyrical writing, and yet, you're not quite sure what the hell just happened.  Budrys' tale of a modern-day Rip van Winkle, who sleeps tens of thousands of years after an attempted landing on Venus, is one of those.  I enjoyed reading it, but it was a little too subtle for me.  Still, it's probably the best piece in the issue (and perhaps more appropriate to Fantastic).  Three stars.

Rundown, by Robert Lory

Be kind to the worn-out bum begging for a dime — that coin might literally spell the difference between life and death.  A nicely done, if rather inconsequential vignette, from a first-time author.  Three stars.

Singleminded, by John Brunner

In the midst of a ratcheted-up Cold War, a stranded moon-ferry pilot is rescued by a chatty Soviet lass.  The meet cute is spoiled, by turns, first by the unshakable paranoia the pilot feels for the Communist, and second by the silly, incongruous ending.  I suspect only one of those was the writer's intention.  Three stars.

Nonpolitical New Frontiers, by Theodore Sturgeon
ans. Al Landau, gideon marcus, hal clement, harry s
Sturgeon continues to write rather uninspired, overly familiar non-fiction articles for IF.  In this one, Ted points out that fascinating science doesn't require rockets or foreign planets — even the lowly nematode is plenty interesting.  Three stars.

Another Earth, by David Evans and Al Landau

When I was 14, (mumblety-mumblety) years ago, I wrote what I thought was a clever and unique science fiction story.  It featured a colony starship with a cargo of spores and seeds that, through some improbable circumstance, travels in time and ends up in orbit around a planet that turns out to be primeval Earth.  The Captain decides to seed the lifeless planet, ("Let the land produce…") thus recreating the Biblical Genesis. 

I did not realize that Biblically inspired stories were (even then) hardly original.  In particular, the Adam and Eve myth gets revisited every so often.  It's such a hoary subject that these stories are now told with a wink (viz. Robert F. Young's Jupiter Found and R.A. Lafferty's In the Garden).

Why this long preface?  Because the overlong story that took two authors (and one undiscerning editor) to vomit onto the back pages of IF is just a retelling of the Noah myth.  An obvious one.  A bad one.  One star.

Turning Point, by Poul Anderson

Last up, the story the cover illustrates features a concept you won't find in Analog.  A crew of terran explorers finds a planet of aliens that, despite their primitive level of culture, are far more intelligent than humans.  The story lasts just long enough for us to see the solution we hatch to avoid our culture being eclipsed by these obviously superior extraterrestrials.  Not bad, but it suffers for the aliens being identical to humans.  Three stars.

Thus ends the worst showing from IF in three years.  Here's a suggestion: raise the cover price to 50 cents and pay more than a cent-and-a-half per word?

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TV

[April 7, 1963] The Twilight Zone, Season 4, Episodes 9-12

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by Natalie Devitt

This past month on The Twilight Zone has been quite the experience. It has included anything from deals with the devil to time travel. It has also thrown in parallel universes and wish granting genies just for fun. If any of those things sound familiar, there may be good reason. The show does seem to be rehashing some old ideas. So, has The Twilight Zone finally run out of steam, or is it just offering new interpretations of some old classics? After four seasons one thing is for sure: anything is possible in The Twilight Zone.

Printer’s Devil, by Charles Beaumont

What is the price you would pay for one last chance at achieving a dream? That is the question that Douglas Winter, played by Robert Sterling, has to wrestle with in Printer’s Devil. Douglas is the editor of a failing newspaper called The Courier. Faced with the possibility of the paper, to which he has dedicated his life, folding, Douglas contemplates suicide. He drives himself out to a local bridge in the middle of the night, hoping to end it all there.

At the bridge, he meets a mysterious stranger named Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith is played by Twilight Zone favorite Burgess Meredith. Mr. Smith offers Douglas everything he needs in order to keep The Courier in business. In no time, the paper is beating its competition to the latest scoop. In this surprisingly strong update of Faust, Douglas begins to question if his paper’s success is worth the price he will have to pay Mr. Smith, who is really the devil in disguise.

A story about someone selling their soul to the devil is hardly a new one. The episode’s writer, Charles Beaumont, knows that and has fun with the cliché in his script. Mr. Smith even makes jokes about the rumors that violinist Niccolò Paganini sold his soul to the devil to become a virtuoso. In addition, the script does not waste time revealing that Mr. Smith is the devil. In fact, during his first scene on screen, Mr. Smith is shown lighting his crooked cigar with his fingertip, so the viewer is aware of Mr. Smith's diabolic nature from the get-go. The story spends most of the time focusing on the characters and their motivations, which I feel helps to make this version of a classic bargain work surprisingly well.

The story’s script is made even better by Burgess Meredith’s mischievous performance as Mr. Smith. He really seems to relish his role without being hammy as he tells Douglas that no modern man could possibly believe that he could sell his soul to the devil, and that the contract he drew up for Douglas’ soul was just him being an eccentric old man.

This episode offers a new twist on an old tale. I give it three and a half stars.

No Time Like the Past, by Rod Serling

Dana Andrews stars as Paul Driscoll, a man who thinks he has the solution for the problems that plague the world today. He uses a time machine in hopes of altering the past and preventing the world’s current problems. He tries going back to Hiroshima in 1945, just in time to warn people about the atomic bomb. There, he is dismissed as being crazy, so he then tries going back to Berlin in 1939 to assassinate Hitler. His plans are foiled, so he travels back to 1915 to stop the RMS Lusitania from being torpedoed by a German U-boat. Once again, things do not go as planned.

Douglas’ failed attempts to alter the past cause him to conclude that the past cannot be changed. He decides to time travel one last time, this time to Homeville, Indiana in the year 1881, where he says he plans to go, “to live, not to change anything.“ It is a place where he could be free of the all the problems in the present day. Only, once again, things do not go quite as well as he hopes.

It turns out that the good old days are not quite as good as he imagined they would be. Bad things continue to happen all around him, and he still is powerless to do anything. Even if he could change things, he considers the possibility that his actions cause a chain reaction for things to change for the worse. One thing is certain, though. Having come from the future, he can predict every historical event or disaster before it actually happens, which has its disadvantages.

This is another story with a familiar theme — the episode Back There tread similar ground. That said, this episode is not bad, but it takes a while to get going. At first, it jumps from time to time, with transitions not as smooth as they could have been. Once the story does stay for a while in a single time period, as it does in 1881, the episode improves dramatically.

This episode was a perfectly fine way to spend a Thursday night. It deserves three stars.

The Parallel, by Rod Serling

Robert Gaines, played by Steve Forrest, is an astronaut who has returned to Earth from space. He blacks out shortly before landing, but he somehow manages to get land and everything seems fine at first. As he tries to transition back into everyday life, he finds that life back on Earth is not quite the way he remembers it. His house is a little different, his wife seems uncomfortable when he shows her affection, his colleagues cannot remember his proper ranking at work, nobody knows that John F. Kennedy is president, and one day, his daughter tells him that she does not know who he is. Robert comes to the conclusion that he must have landed in a parallel universe, but not everyone agrees with him.

This is an episode that really uses the hour long length to its advantage. It uses the extra time to build suspense as the people closest to Robert begin to question his sanity due to all of his theories about parallel time. Additionally, a number of sequences, including one in a hospital and some at the space station, use a lot things like low key lighting and lots of shadows to intensify the atmosphere of fear and suspicion in a manner similar to that used in film noir and horror films.

Unfortunately, the ending was not quite as strong as the rest of the episode, but overall this episode was pretty good. It earns three stars from me.

I Dream of Genie, by John Furia, Jr.

I Dream of Genie tells the story of a perpetually unlucky nebbish named George Hanley, played by Howard Morris, who purchases an oil lamp. While trying to clean the lamp, he accidentally rubs it and releases its genie. Out of his lamp, the genie reveals himself to be a cranky old man, who does not look or act like your traditional genie. For example, he wears modern western clothing. The genie tells George that he will grant him only one wish. George works through his options in fantasy first, so as to make the best decision. He imagines himself married to a beautiful secretary from work, then being rich, and finally, becoming the President. Sadly, even in his dreams, he cannot seem to catch a break.

When I realized that this episode would be a comedy, I was excited about the possible change of pace. Perhaps it would provide some much needed relief from the darker and more serious tones of the previous episodes. I could not have been more wrong. The generally good acting can save even the worst episodes of this series, but that is not the case this time around. The acting was so over the top, and not in an entertaining way. This was especially the case in scenes where George is trying to win the love of his coworker, Ann. The fact that this episode was an hour long made it even harder to watch. To make matters worse, George’s final wish does not reward the viewer for not changing the station.

The Twilight Zone has made better episodes about lonely and down on their luck men who finally seem to get a chance to turn their lives around. Incorporating comedy into this series has been a risk that often does not seem to pay off. This episodes was sadly not an exception to that rule.

All I can give this episode is one star, which I hate to admit is probably being generous.

The Twilight Zone revisited some familiar stories and themes this time around, which actually seemed to work most of the time. It remains to be seen if this will continue to be the case. I will just have to keeping on watching to find out. I hope you'll join me — both misery and joy love company.

[New to the Journey?  Read this for a brief introduction!]


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Book

[April 5, 1963] The Best Laid Plans (Tevis’s The Man Who Fell to Earth)

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by Victoria Lucas

Ten days after my 21st birthday last October, a 13-day “crisis” began that got people wondering anew whether the world would end soon, if nuclear bombs would start falling.  When the crisis (and not the world) ended, like others, I felt a sense of relief, but the Cold War wasn’t over, and it isn’t over now.  It most certainly isn’t over in Walter Tevis’s novel of the near future, The Man Who Fell to Earth.  A shadow of something big and ineluctable hangs over the book.

It is somewhat genre-bending, and I didn't recognize it as a work of science fiction when I started reading it.  But the first clue was the starkness of the prose.  The author has, as I understand it, been teaching English, but nevertheless it lacks a certain richness, contains a type of get-to-the-pointedness that I've come to associate with science fiction, even though I've read little of it.  "Let's just gloss over that" description, embarrassing fact, indescribable circumstance, not draw too much attention to details that would take a long time to explain and have no relevance to the plot.  "Just the facts, ma'am," as they say on Dragnet.

Of course my next clue was that, gradually, the main character, Thomas Jerome Newton, reveals that he is not from Planet Earth. 

Tevis is the man who gave us "Minnesota Fats" and "Fast Eddie," the author of the 1959 book The Hustler, made into a film 2 years ago.  That was his first novel, this his second.

This novel's characters answer the question: What if the aliens came (in this case only one) and H. G. Wells was right, disease was the cause of defeat, but it wasn't a physical disease in the same sense as the one that infected Wells's Martians, it was something that has been popularly regarded as a character flaw, as a funny stereotype?  Like alcoholism.  (Warning: There are no happy people in this book.)

I noticed that the catalog record shows "alcoholism" as a subject.  I wondered at that until I had read to a certain point in this cautionary tale of the best laid plans of mice and aliens.

At first it is noted that Newton “had only recently begun drinking wine, pleased to find that it had, apparently, the same effect on him as it did on men of Earth.” But when he meets Betty Jo, a woman who takes him in when he breaks both legs in an elevator because the G forces are too much for him, he sees that she is fond of gin—a little too fond, in fact—and he begins to join her. 

The first character to suspect that Newton is not human is Nathan Bryce, a college-level teacher of chemistry who quits to come to work for him, but "he smiled at himself, at the cheap, science-fiction level of his own private discourse.  If Newton were a Martian or a Venusian, he should, by all rights, be importing heat rays to fry New York or planning to disintegrate Chicago, or carrying off young girls to underground caves for otherworldly sacrifices."  Having taught at colleges, he would of course think of "science fiction" in this way because these are still common ideas among academics.  This is Bryce’s opinion, but Tevis must have seen a lot of such themes preparing to write short stories such as his "The Ifth Of Oofth" in a 1957 issue of Galaxy Science Fiction.

Nevertheless, Bryce thinks Newton must be "either the world's most original inventive genius, or an extraterrestrial" and sets out to find out if his misgivings are true, in the process unconsciously undoing everything Newton has done toward his goal.  By the time Newton visits Bryce in his apartment when “the Anthean” (as Newton’s people are called) is well along in his project, Bryce observes early in the evening that Newton "had already finished his first gin drink and had poured himself another.  A drunken Martian?  An extraterrestiral who drank gin and bitters?"  It doesn't seem to occur to him that the "drunken Martian" has caught a fatal human disease, probably because Bryce himself drinks heavily on occasion.  The expression “it’s all downhill from there” comes to mind.

I was intrigued by the fact that in several places, Newton's thoughts allude to his race and humans having the same origin, or previous visits to Earth by his people that jump-started human development of language and religion.  My research indicates that there was a book in French published in 1960 by Louis Pauwels and Jacques Bergier (Les Matin des magiciens) that includes these ideas, but I have no indication that Tevis knows French.  Another possibility is that Tevis read H. P. Lovecraft (B-r-r-r-r-r!), some of whose work reportedly has this theme. 

Eventually, of course, we find out that Newton has come to the attention of the American government, despite hiding his project away in Kentucky (Tevis's home).  While the CIA seems more interested in studying his nervous system and psychology to find out whether they can coddle or torture weapons information out of him, the person whom Newton considers his best friend on the planet (Bryce) wants him to save the humans.

Curiously, it never seems to occur to the humans to save themselves.

What holds us back?  Tevis seems to me to put his finger on some factors restraining political problem solving.  They are incarnate in the characters of the cynical Bryce, who is selfish, greedy, and apathetic; Newton’s patent lawyer and business agent, also afflicted with selfishness and greed; his woman friend Betty Jo, a female stereotype of unselfishness who drowns any intelligence she might have in booze; and the government agents—as cynical and lacking in compassion as Bryce—who would have no qualms about using any sort of world-destroying weaponry they might tease out of Newton on our fragile planet.  A type of mental short-sightedness is endemic and finally culminates in Newton’s very real blindness that is nevertheless also symbolic.

Answering a question from Bryce about what he was trying to do, Newton says, “I was not at all certain what I was up to” because, although his project was to build a lifeboat to bring the surviving remnant of his people to Earth, “I’m not certain that my people will be able to stand your world."  But he did become certain that they would have nothing to do here but "wait for the bombs to fall."

All in all, I found it a depressing book.  But perhaps that’s only because, like Newton, I’m living under the shadow of the Cold War, and I take it seriously.  So aside from those who are curious about what else the author of The Hustler wrote, or about a possible future around 15 years hence, or about how aliens or alcoholics are portrayed, I think I would recommend this to anyone in the future who wants to know what it felt like to live through (?I hope) the Cold War.  The book has a few flaws, for which I would give it 3 out of 5 stars.

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Fashion, music, politics, sports, Movies

[April 3, 1963] Feathered Threads (Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds)

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by Gwyn Conaway


The Birds , directed by Alfred Hitchcock, premiered on March 28th, 1963.

Just yesterday I saw Alfred Hitchcock’s new film The Birds.  On its surface, the premise is quite simple — the avians in a peaceful locale suddenly turn murderous.  It's a superb piece of suspense from the unarguable master of such things.  As the sun rose this morning and I sipped my coffee, I wondered if the little songbirds in my garden could ever turn on me. What a chilling thought!

Of course, try as Hitchcock might to distract me with scenes of feathered terror, being me, I couldn’t help but notice the costume design. And while, the pre-release copy of the film I saw was in black and white, my privileged position at the studio let me observe the costumes in person (and in living color). With the film released, I can finally share what I’ve seen! 

Costume designer Edith Head masterfully combined the sleepy seaside palette with the elegance of the city through cut and fit. Lydia Brenner, played by the talented Jessica Tandy, is a great example of this harmony. Her fabrics are those that we associate with the country. Tweeds and contrast knits in particular are found throughout her design. However, her silhouettes are fresh and metropolitan. Head even mixes in fine silks to give her an air of sophistication. This combination also illuminates the teetering balance Brenner tries to maintain between a domineering and doting mother.


Lydia’s tweed cocoon coat is a beautiful example of how the fashion-forward city silhouette has creeped into Bodega Bay while maintaining the little coastal town’s country charm.


In this casual evening ensemble, we can see her motherly conundrum. Note the fine silk charmeuse blouse beneath the contrast knit cardigan. The “knit” side of Lydia’s personality is docile, while the “silk” side is conniving.

This subtle design emphasizes the obvious tension between Lydia and Melanie, played by Tippi Hedren, a socialite with designs on Lydia's son. Melanie is a city girl through and through. Her palettes play on this contrast. Her dress suit and fur jacket drip with metropolitan wealth.

When she borrowed a dinghy to sneak across the bay, I was struck with the direct comparison of the texture of the docks to her red fox fur coat. I realized that, in her own misguided way, she was using the natural texture of the fur to try helplessly to blend in with the little town; a detail that lends itself to her rather clumsy and charming game.

The star of the film was obviously her dress suit. The costume is an open jacket with small patch pockets that sit low on the hem and sleeve cuffs that fall just above the wrist. It’s cut to perfection with a single vertical dart from shoulder to bust that helps the jacket maintain a square yet smooth shape over the bust. The matching dress beneath is a sheath cut, sleeveless, with a three-inch wide self belt and an invisible zipper down the center back. What you can’t deduce from the release of the film, however, is that the dress suit is a tangy, energetic pistachio green!


Beautiful, isn’t it?

Draped in the color of spring, is it any wonder that Lydia feels threatened by the young and boisterous Melanie? Certainly not. However, I think the real source of Lydia’s uneasiness lies in Mitch’s wardrobe.

Lydia's son, Mitch Brenner, played by Rod Taylor (star of The Twilight Zone and The Time Machine, is a man caught between the slow-paced life of Bodega Bay and the bustling hubbub of the city. Although the seaside town is his escape, he is always destined to leave it for San Francisco.


Note that his styling, the ribbed fishing captain’s sweater paired with the paisley ascot, is that of a wealthy yachter rather than the resident of a coastal town.


Residents of Bodega Bay holed up in the local cafe with Melanie. The contrast in texture between her smooth dress suit and the local nappy textiles help her stand out among the crowd. Compare their looks with Mitch above for a similar effect.

At the same time, he follows his mother’s habits of using fashionable silhouettes with more textured fabrics. The suit he wears to his sister’s birthday party is an excellent example. A slender tie paired with a wide-gorge shirt collar and a high notch on the lapel of his suit jacket make for a very trendy man.

Rather than being concerned over the women in his life, perhaps Lydia is concerned for the patterns she sees within her son. Is he destined to forget her? Will he leave her like his father did before him?

The frenzy of the birds in Bodega Bay is a terrifying mystery. They seem to gather against humans without cause. However, I wonder if the answers don’t lie in Lydia’s fears. The birds crowd the town’s residents gradually and then strike with sudden ferocity. A similar feeling is commonly associated with anxiety. Lydia’s fears about her son are chronic with acute moments of panic. Could Lydia, in fact, be the subconscious cause of the birds?

I can only imagine that the connection is deliberate. Just as Edith Head wove the fabric of the costumes with the psyche of the characters, so Hitchcock wove a deeper theme into his film, elevating a "monster flick" into cinema for the ages.




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Magazine/Anthology

[April 1, 1963] Stuck in the Past (April 1963 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

The world is a topsy-turvy place.  Whether it's a coup in Guatemala, or pro-Peronista unrest in Argentina, or a slow-motion civil war in Indochina, one can't open the newspaper without seeing evidence of disorder.  Even at home, it's clear that the battle for Civil Rights is just getting started, with the Southern Christian Leadership Conference planning a sit-in campaign in Birmingham, Alabama, the most segregated city in the country.  It's been a long time coming, but there's no question that many folks (on the wrong side of history) are upset at the changing order of things. 

So it's no wonder that some turn to the old familiar pleasures to escape from reality.  And while most science fiction magazines are now flirting with a new, literary style (particularly F&SF), a direction the British are starting to call "The New Wave," Analog Science Fact – Science Fiction sticks stolidly to the same recipe it's employed since the early 1950s: Psi, Hokum, and Conservatism. 

I suppose some might find the April 1963 Analog comforting, but I just found it a slog.  What do you think?

Which Stars Have Planets?, by Stanley Leinwoll

You'd think an article with a name like this would be right up my alley, but it turns out to be some metaphysics about planets causing sunspots.  Because, you see, Jupiter's orbital period of 12 years is close to the solar sunspot cycle of 11 years.  And if you add up the orbital periods of Earth, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn, and divide by four, you get 11 years. 

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?!?

Nothing.  Not a damned thing.  The latter observation is numerological folderol, and the former is meaningless given that sunspots don't only show up on the side facing Jupiter.

Two stars for the pretty pictures.

"What'll You Give?", by Winston Sanders

Last month, Editor Campbell wrote a piece about how the gas giants of our solar system were untapped reservoirs of chemical wealth just waiting to be exploited.  "Winston Sanders" (a frequent pseudonym of Poul Anderson) has obliged Campbell by writing about a Jupiter mining mission in which a deep-diving spacecraft encounters trouble while scooping the ammonia and methane from the giant planet's atmosphere. 

By all rights, it should be an exciting piece, and yet, it almost completely fails to be.  A tidbit the Young Traveler taught me as I was writing my latest novel: don't assume your audience will find the technical details fascinating.  You have to make them relevant to the characters, described through their reactions. 

I could have done without the hackneyed nationality depictions, too.  Three stars, because the topic is good.  The execution is less so.

Sonny, by Rick Raphael

Hayseed army recruit plays havoc with local electrical systems when he telepaths home instead of writing like everyone else.  The military sends him to Russia to send mental postcards.

It's as dumb and smug as it sounds — the most Campbellian piece of the issue.  It is in English, however.

Two stars.

Last Resort, by Stephen Bartholomew

Things start well-enough in this story about an astronaut slowly but fatally losing air from his capsule.  I liked the bit about using a balloon to find the leak (it drifts to the hole, you see), but all trace of verisimilitude is lost when the spaceman lights not one but two cigarettes during the crisis!  Maybe smokes of the future don't burn oxygen. 

And, of course, the story is "solved" with psi.  Because this is Analog.

Two stars.

Frigid Fracas (Part 2 of 2), by Mack Reynolds

After Middle Middle class mercenary, Major Joe Mauser, utterly louses up his chance at joining the ranks of the Uppers through military daring, he signs up with the underground movement whose aim is to tear the class system down altogether.  He is dispatched to the Sov-world capital of Budapest with the cover of being a liaison, but he's really an agent to see if the Workers' Paradise is similarly inclined to revolution.

This, the fourth installment in this particular future history, is rich on color but poor in credibility, and there's a lot more talking than doing.  It's not as disappointing as Reynolds' recent "Africa" series, but I expected a better conclusion to a promising saga.

Three stars.

Iceberg From Earth, by J. T. McIntosh

Iceberg is an espionage potboiler whose setting is a trio of colonized planets that, blessedly, isn't Earth, Mars, and Venus.  I did appreciate that the hero agent was a woman (the iceberg); I was sad that she wasn't the viewpoint character — instead, it was a rather lackluster and anti-woman fellow spy.  I did like the solar system McIntosh created, though.  Three stars.

A Slight Case of Limbo, by Lloyd Biggle, Jr.

Lastly, if not quite leastly, is this tale about a stout-hearted guy with a weak heart who gives his life to save another.  Except that the other is an alien who swaps the human's ticker with a machine, which turns out to be a mixed blessing.  The story meanders all over the place, and the ending is right out of a mediocre episode of Twilight Zone.  Still, it's not bad — I think I was just disappointed that the Simakian beginning had a Serlingian end.  Three stars.

And so we've come to the end of the April digests (though technically, Analog is now a slick).  Campbell's mag clocks in at a sad 2.6 stars.  Galaxy is the clear champion, at 3.5 stars.  Fantasy and Science Fiction, Fantastic, and New Worlds are all pleasantly above water at 3.2, and Amazing trails badly at 2.1.

Four of 41 fiction pieces were by women — par for the course.  There were enough 4 and 5-star stories to fill two good digests, my favorite of which was On the Fourth Planet, by Jesse Bone.

Speaking of quality, I am proud to announce that Galactic Journey is a finalist for the Best Fanzine Hugo!  Thanks to all who of you who nominated us, and I hope we'll have your continued support come Labor Day.  Either way, we're just happy to have you along for the ride. 

What have you enjoyed the most about the Journey?

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Movies

[Mar. 28, 1963] March of Progress (the movie, Come Fly With Me)

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[While you're reading this article, why not tune in to KGJ, Radio Galactic Journey, playing all the current hits: pop, rock, soul, folk, jazz, country — you might just hear a song from the album released by a new British band: The Beatles!]


By Ashley R. Pollard

March has finally brought a thaw in the weather.  The snow is leaving my fair and pleasant land, and, by the good graces of the Traveler, I have had a metaphorical break from the cold.  In the mail, I received a ticket to yesterday's cinematic premier of Come Fly With Me, a film about Jet Age romance in the airline business, with a note asking if I might provide a review. 

I, of course, obliged.  The viewing turned out to be not quite as glamorous experience as the one portrayed in the movie…if only because watching a preview in a basement cinema in Soho Square with lots of newspaper hacks from Fleet Street chain smoking cigarettes is hardly the epitome of a jet setting lifestyle.

Mind you, the movie can in no way be described as science fictional.  It makes no attempt to portray the effects of technology on society.  But it does a good job of painting a romantic picture of a future where jet travel is taken for granted.

And so, I spent a very pleasant afternoon watching (through the clouds of smoke) a frothy, light-hearted story that starts with Frankie Valli singing the eponymous song Come Fly With Me. 

Despite beginning in New York, dominated by a largely American cast, this is a British production.  It can be best be described as a light, romantic comedy, which doesn't stand up to close scrutiny.  The story centers around three air hostesses, who are all looking for Mister Right—hence the film's subtitle: A Romantic Round the World Manhunt.  The screenplay is an adaption of the book, Girl on a Wing, by Bernard Glemser, that was categorized as chick-lit, so assuming I have my American slang right, this makes Come Fly With Me a chick-flic.

Men beware — this may not be to your taste.  However, as a date night movie it might be ideal.

Dolores Hart leads the billing playing Donna Stuart, who is a woman looking for a rich husband.  She made her screen debut in the 1957 film Loving You as a love interest to Elvis Presley, and appeared with him again in the 1958 King Creole, which featured her first on screen kiss.  Stuart's story arc revolves an on-then-off romance with a German Baron, who is not quite what he seems.

Pamela Tiffin plays Carol Brewster, who is the younger air hostess and comic relief.  She is a Golden Globe nominated actress for her role in One, Two, Three, and as Most Promising Female Newcomer for Summer and Smoke.  Brewster's romance with a dashing airline pilot is the core of the comedy in the movie.  Ms. Tiffin manages to steal every scene she is in, and I imagine she will go far.

Lois Nettleton plays Hilda "Bergie" Bergstrom who is the older woman with a sad history, who despite her protestations is finally won over by a widower.  Ms. Nettleton was a semifinalist in the 1948 Miss America competition, and I discovered she has also appeared in Captain Video, which is the first of two science fiction connections in this movie.

I don't know much about Captain Video, but it did have stories written by Isaac Asimov, James Blish, Arthur C. Clarke, Damon Knight, Cyril M. Kornbluth, Walter M. Miller, Robert Sheckley, and Jack Vance.

The main male romantic lead is played by Hugh O'Brien, a former United States Marine Corps officer, in the role of First Officer Ray Winsley who is the Co-Pilot of the plane a large portion of the story takes place on.  Winsley can best be described as a scoundrel who, in this case, comes good and gets the girl.  O'Brien is mostly known for his roles in Westerns, playing Wyatt Earp, but I discovered he also starred in the 1950 science fiction film Rocketship X-M (which also featured 1 TOBOR, the robot toy…)

Karl Malden's face was instantly recognizable; I've seen him in many films.  He's probably most famous for his role in the 1954 film On the Waterfront, where he played a priest opposite Marlon Brando.

Here he plays a much lighter role, as a recently widowed Walter Lucas, who falls in love with Ms. Nettleton's character.  This part of the story arc is very much in the tradition of mistaken assumptions.  It is driven by his being identified as poor from flying in economy class, which disguises his multi-millionaire background.  There's much comic interplay from this plot device.

Then there is Karlheinz Böhm, who plays the German Baron Franz Von Elzingen.  Böhm is another recognizable star, who I first saw in the 1962 stop-motion Cinerama movie,T he Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm, playing one of the brothers.  Here he plays a Baron whose family has fallen on hard times, who is enticed/ forced into smuggling stolen diamonds.

This causes much trouble for his relationship with Ms. Hart's character.  However, this film is far too light and airy to dwell on the darkness of international crime, so he hands himself in to attain true love.

Finally, it was a pleasure to see Richard Wattis, a well known British character actor who has appeared in such films as the 1954, The Belles of St. Trinian's, in a supporting role as an airline manager. 

In sum, Come Fly With Me has a stellar cast.  Also, the cinematography while at times routine, produces iconic images that encapsulates the jet set age, which I imagine will be copied in future films. As they say in Britain, worth a punt.

A final note: again, by no stretch of the imagination can Come Fly With Me be considered science fiction today.  Nevertheless, one can't help but muse how the times have changed to make it thus.

For example, twenty years ago jet engines were the stuff of science fiction.  A little over fifteen years ago, transatlantic flight was not only new, but also arduous with flights taken fifteen or more hours to cross the Atlantic.

Now, transatlantic flight has become routine, even if it is mostly for the wealthy.  It is the stuff of current movies.  It is something you and I could do…after pinching sufficient pence.  Just you wait.  In twenty years, they'll be making films about commercial space travel — and they will be documentaries.




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Magazine/Anthology

[March 26, 1963] The Wind of Change: New Worlds, April 1963

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[While you're reading this article, why not tune in to KGJ, Radio Galactic Journey, playing all the current hits: pop, rock, soul, folk, jazz, country — you might just hear a song from the album released by a new British band: The Beatles!]


by Mark Yon

It’s the end of March, and with the arrival of Spring, at last, the long, long Winter of 1962-63 has cleared. All in about a fortnight. I can’t tell you what a joy it is to feel warmth outside the house, even if the snow has now turned to rain and damp. Many meteorologists are claiming that ‘The Big Freeze’ is the coldest on record, which it certainly felt like.

I’m not sorry to see Winter go. Hopefully now normal routines can be resumed, if a little damper than usual.

Whilst I try and dry out, let’s look at this month’s New Worlds.

Play With Feeling, by Mr. Michael Moorcock

This month’s Guest Editor is one of my personal-favourite authors at the moment, but not for science fiction. I really like his Fantasy stories of Elric, the albino warrior with a blood-lust, but Mr. Moorcock has been steadily building up a reputation in science-fiction as well. Perhaps more relevant here is that he is also one of the advocates, like Mr. Brian Aldiss and Mr. J. G. Ballard, of the so-called “New Wave” of writers who are determined to rewrite the conventions of science fiction. 

It may therefore not be a surprise that Mr. Moorcock uses this opportunity to explain his viewpoint and set out his stall, so to speak. It’s done well, and I expect that this Introduction may be a rallying call to others. The ongoing debate in this magazine continues, but Mr. Moorcock gives a convincing case for change. 

To the stories. There’s a lot of one-word titles this month, and,
like last month, a mixture of space exploration, strange aliens and espionage stories…

Window On The Moon, by Mr E. C. Tubb

Here’s my first surprise of the issue. After the movement of the serial to the back of the issue in the last few months, here it’s the first story we read. It’s also the return of a once- New Worlds regular, Mr. E. C. Tubb. Window On the Moon is a rip-roaring, hyper-sexed tale of ‘Brits-in-Space’, with a snap-inspection, a British espionage agent and a bio-computer.

Much in the breathless style of old Tubb tales, Window On the Moon has more than a touch of Mr. Arthur C. Clarke about it, which in my opinion is not a bad thing! Admittedly it is rather more sexual than Mr. Clarke’s work and also what I remember of Mr. Tubb’s usual material, although I rather suspect that the reason for this will be explained in later issues.  Certainly, after the bombast of last month’s serial, it is a pleasure to read something that just does what it needs to do. But is it memorable? Almost a four out of five, but, in the end, a three out of five. [The Journey does not give half-stars for shorts… (Ed.)]

Quest, by Mr. Lee Harding

The return of Mr. Harding gives us a story of one man’s search to find something ‘real’ in an increasingly artificial world, although it is never clear exactly why there is this need. It reminded me of Mr. Philip K. Dick’s stories about the nature of identity and artificiality. There’s a twist at the end, which isn’t as original as it would like to be, but the story was an enjoyable read. Three out of five.

Dossier, by Mr. John Rackham

From another New Worlds regular, Mr. Rackham’s tale this time is a variant of the old ‘superhuman’ idea, with the key character using his superior powers of deduction to retrieve an important scientist captured by an enemy. It’s an exciting story, but I felt that the story hindered for being a retread. Three out of five.

Compensation, by Mr. James Inglis

Continuing this month’s issue trend of one-word titles, Mr. Inglis’s story is one of very different aliens meeting. When an Earth expedition meets the Thorm, the interspecies communication is more than the humans expected, or hoped for. The story ends with a pleasingly positive revelation, which suggests the uplift of the human race — but the ending felt a little insipid. Three out of five points.

Adaptation, by Mr. Roy Robinson

We finish this month’s fiction with a novelette from an author new to me, but who was actually last in New Worlds in 1959. An expedition team are sent to a new planet to trial conditions before the colonists arrive, and there find a rapidly adapting species that challenges their presence. A story that was more engaging than I thought it would be, the escalating events had a great sense of peril throughout until an ending that seemed appropriate. Four out of five — my favourite story of the issue.

At the back of the issue The Book Review from Mr. Leslie Flood returns this month, with reviews of Mr. J.G. Ballard’s The Drowned World (“local boy done good”) and the “thoroughly enjoyable, non-cerebral” entertainment of Mr. Poul Anderson’s After Doomsday.

In summary, the editorship of Mr Moorcock has produced a much-needed breath of fresh air this month. An issue with less filler than of late. This may be the sign of a change. The serial and novelette in particular seem stronger and generally better overall, combining aspects of the traditional with the ‘New Wave’.




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[March 22, 1963] Return Engagements (April 1963 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Those of us who are book addicts like to keep track of what's going on in the literary world.  One way to do this is to turn to the New York Times best seller list.  Unfortunately, strikers shut down the city's newspapers in December, preventing us from getting our weekly fix.

We can now breathe a sigh of relief.  The strike is settling down.  The list, which was unavailable from the middle of December until the beginning of March, has returned.  The near-future thriller Seven Days in May by Fletcher Knebel and Charles W. Bailey II, which ended the truncated year at the top of the list, kept that position at the start of this month. 

It was encouraging to see a science fiction novel (even if it wasn't labeled as such) reach number one.  (It has since been replaced by a slim volume containing J. D. Salinger's two novellas Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction.  They may not be SF, but they're definitely worth reading.)

The Mona Lisa returned to the Louvre this month.  No doubt the French missed their great art treasure as much as New Yorkers did their newspapers.

A less welcome return, as least to my taste, was the Four Seasons to the top of the music charts with their third number one hit, Walk Like a Man.

Fittingly, the latest issue of Fantastic features the return of many names closely associated with the magazine, as well as authors returning to universes they created.

Some Fabulous Yonder, by Philip José Farmer

Frank Bruno's cover art depicts one of the bizarre creatures encountered in this space adventure.  The author revisits the setting of his tales about criminal-turned-priest John Carmody, which have appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction in recent years.  Carmody is mentioned in passing in this story, but does not take an active role in the plot.  Instead, the protagonist is the government agent who pursued him.  In this story, he turns his attention to another master criminal, a pirate who steals a starship, killing everyone aboard.  His intent is to invade a planet thought to be impossible to conquer.  The story begins as a hardboiled detective yarn, but soon becomes much stranger when the secrets of the planet emerge.  The breakneck pace of this story may leave the reader breathless, even if the plot twists seem arbitrary.  It all leads up to a scene revealing the immensity of time and space.  This wild ride is never boring, at least.  Three stars.

The Malatesta Collection, by Roger Zelazny

A young author who has already appeared in the pages of editor Cele Goldsmith's magazines several times returns with a tale set long after an atomic war.  The new civilization that rises from the ashes is a prim and proper one.  This causes a problem when scholars discover an ancient fallout shelter filled with erotic literature.  The ensuing conflict leads to a symbolic gesture by a rebellious artist.  This is an intriguing story, which can be seen as an allegory about censorship.  Four stars.

A Fate Worse Than . . ., by Robert H. Rohrer

Another new writer familiar to readers of Amazing and Fantastic, although not as prolific, returns with a very different post-atomic story.  It seems that Satanists dug themselves into the Earth in search of Hell, and thus were the only survivors of a nuclear war.  The result is a society in which church services are black masses.  The protagonist is a fellow who secretly summons an angel, the way a magician might summon a demon in our world.  This interesting premise, which could have led to enjoyable satire, is wasted on a familiar story of being careful what you wish for.  Two stars.

The Casket-Demon, by Fritz Leiber

One of the great names in fantastic fiction returns to the magazine that restarted his career with an unusual tale of magic and the movies.  A glamorous film star literally fades away, due to lack of publicity.  Weighing only a few pounds, and so attenuated that she becomes translucent, she turns to an ancient family curse.  By releasing a malevolent creature from inside a small box, she hopes to return to the headlines, even though she knows the price will be a very high one.  This offbeat story combines horror, satire, and whimsical fantasy into a tasty stew.  Four stars.

Survival Packages, by David R. Bunch

A writer that some readers love to hate also returns in this issue.  He revisits Moderan, his dystopic future where survivors of an atomic holocaust have bodies that are mostly metal.  They live in fortresses and make endless war on each other.  Into this terrible world come time capsules, buried long ago and forgotten, brought from underground by robots.  Their contents are disturbing.  The author's style is not as eccentric as usual in this story, and it carries a powerful impact.  Four stars.

A Thing of Terrible Beauty, by Harrison Denmark

Rumor has it that this unknown name is actually a disguise for Roger Zelazny, making his second appearance in the issue.  The style certainly seems like his.  In any case, the narrator is an immaterial alien mind that inhabits the brain of a drama critic.  The man becomes aware of his uninvited visitor.  The alien makes an unexpected revelation.  This is an effective mood piece, if more of an anecdote than a fully developed story.  Three stars.

Rain Magic, by Erle Stanley Gardner

The famous creator of Perry Mason returns with the third of his old pulp stories to be reprinted as so-called fantasy classics.  This fast-paced adventure story first appeared in the October 20, 1928 issue of Argosy.

An old man, passed out in the desert, relates his weird experiences in Africa.  After a shipwreck, he abandons his vessel and is taken in by the local inhabitants.  Among the many dangers he faces are bloodsucking bats, a hostile monkey-man, warring tribes, and man-eating ants.  The action never lets up for a second.  An interesting preface by the author states that the story is based on what he was told by an elderly fellow he met in the desert.  Whatever the truth of this may be, the reader is never bored.  (As in any pulp yarn from the time, there's an unpleasant trace of racism.  The narrator mentions the superiority of the white race, but at least he's somewhat skeptical about it.  He also falls in love with an African woman, which would still raise some eyebrows in this segregated nation of ours.  The story is much less offensive than many others of its kind.) Three stars.

Possible to Rue, by Piers Anthony

Finishing the issue is this light comedy, the author's first published work.  A wealthy man offers to buy his son a pet of any kind.  The boy requests a flying horse, then a unicorn.  The man goes to the encyclopedia to prove they do not exist.  When he asks for mundane animals, the unexpected happens.  This is a clever little bagatelle, likely to amuse.  Three stars.

If the magazine continues to offer stories of good quality, I'll be sure to return to it many times. 

[Speaking of returns, don't miss the next article, about the newest harvest of scientific discoveries from our satellites!]

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Science Fiction/Fantasy

[March 20, 1963] TIME TRAVEL (1962 from the perspective of SFF-writer, David Rome)

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[I am very pleased to present an article that just arrived by post from David Boutland (a.k.a. David Rome), whose stories have been the subject of review several times.  It marks the first time this fanzine has been graced with presence of a current SFF writer.  It is written in the form of a retrospective, at the big end of a 55-year long telescope…]


by David Rome

In Chester I went exploring the remembered years, turning left into a cul-de-sac of terraced houses and here is the corner shop on the right and ahead the low brick wall topped by the rusty spiked iron railings.

And on the other side of the railings the railway shunting yard with shrill whistle of shunting engine.

A clatter of running feet, two small boys racing each other and the echo of my own voice ringing out after the troops returned from the war and my old man had quit his job at the dairy, taken us out of Sodhouse Bank Gateshead, and brought us here to start a new life.

And I stand looking at number 8 Gresford Avenue then walk the few strides to the end of the street. How short the distance and how small the houses. I look down over waist-high rusty spikes into the place of old adventures. A trickling flow of what couldn't even be called a stream scummy with weed and rubbish and along there where the old gasometer had been that kid went fishing with jamjar on a long string and had fallen screaming and drowned under stagnant water.

I turned my back on the railway wasteland and stood looking at the little windows of crowded little houses. How different to the low, tiled bungalows of the Great South Land. Maybe I don't belong here. Maybe I don't fit.

But I found a flat over a butcher's shop and settled in. Early each morning I was woken by the pounding of cleavers as bloody carcasses were dismembered. Nightly, the tv set showed scenes of protest in Trafalgar Square where truncheon-wielding London bobbies were doing what cops all over the world do, enforce the will of their masters. They charged into peaceful crowds of CND demonstrators with thudding truncheons.

In Russia, America, and Britain missiles with atomic warheads stood ready to end all war.

And in the U.S. Kennedy told Khrushchev to get his missiles the hell out of Cuba. Khrushchev's reply was go to hell. Kennedy blockaded Cuba.

There's a kind of hush

was the mood.

The Earth spins through space. Our home. Infinite space surrounds us. No known habitable world to escape to. The tests of the pre-Cuba crisis had already exposed half a million people to radiation as politicians and glory-hungry generals sought to gain the edge. Two million workers in nuclear weapons plants were preparing to seed the environment with life-wasting emissions. Human guinea pigs were reported to have been tested in the Nevada desert. Their skin peeled loose and their hair fell out. Kennedy urged Congress to build fallout shelters.

The world turned.

While murder was contemplated on a scale beyond human imagination. While secret underground bunkers were readied for our Rulers so the Administration could preserve what it always preserves: itself. 

Meanwhile a judge sat on high and looked down on the likes of James Hanratty, a young petty criminal convicted of shooting dead another young man and raping his victim's girlfriend before shooting her, and leaving her paralyzed. His trial went on for twenty one days, the longest and one of the most expensive in the history of murder in England. The jury took almost ten hours to bring in their verdict of guilty. Hanratty was put to death.

And even as nuclear stand-off in Cuba paralyzed the world, new evidence emerged that persuaded many of us that Hanratty was a victim of a state killing and was not a murderer.

Killers must be brought to account. What nightmare scenario would the fat cats, the smug politicians and their privileged families – privileged to live – look upon when, how many years afterward? they emerged into the landscape of a once green and pleasant land?

And when they walked out into the radiation-glow of endless night would we take the only weapons we had left to us to stab and club and hang those who commited the ultimate crime of laying an entire planet to waste?

In the blood-scented world above the butcher's shop I wrote comics now as well as pulp crime and science fiction.

On the pages of Romeo a young girl ran across a mystic country to meet her boyfriend orbiting overhead in starlit night in his space capsule. Mutating butterflies in a child's garden were a prelude to the changing world of The Pink Peril. Featured in Thomson Leng's Judy was Phillipa's Friend Finny, a porpoise tamed before the bottle nosed stars of television leapt across the screen. The war was fought in the air across Europe, and in the jungles of New Guinea, in Fleetway's Battle Picture series.

Millions of words sweated out, to earn a living, but no market be it pulp or comic-book that wasn't approached with respect.

Working on a comic script I used the carpeted floor of my upstairs flat to lay out roughly sketched pictures which, redrawn by an artist, would illustrate the story. I could shuffle their order, add 'boxes' at top or bottom, scribble in lines of dialogue, put in thought bubbles.

One morning I heard a sound I was attuned to, the clack of the letter box, and I broke off and went to the top of the stairs.

Rejections in their self-addressed manila envelopes lay on the doormat.

I opened the door and watched the postman moving away. We were into summer but a bleak wind was blowing down the street. I closed the door again and went into the kitchen and made a cup of tea.

I thought of my time here, and of the stories I had written. Some, a few, I had thought were special. Lately, I'd sold Foreign Body to New Worlds, the story of a science fiction pulp writer whose acceptance cheques stop arriving. The mag had come with the rejections and I opened it to the contents page, feeling nostalgia at the memories it evoked: of writing my first-ever story for Pocket Man, six years ago, of selling Time of Arrival to New Worlds, and of selling Parky in America.

Good days.

Now – New Worlds was in its seventeenth year of publication. It had been started by writers and fans who invested money and time, and dragged up by its bootstraps by the legendary editor John Carnell to become the front-ranking professional British science fiction magazine.

But the truth was that, like the pulp crime magazines, its days were coming to an end.

You've gotta have luck. Was mine running out?

'58, I rode aboard the men's magazines, learned my trade, comics earned a dollar when a dollar was needed. But now the market for short stories is on the skids.

I put the magazine aside and took up the letter I had left until last. A blue airmail letter from Sharon, the girl I had left behind in the land of Oz. I'd written and told her I was thinking of coming home, that I was near broke, and her reply was measured, and understanding, and held out hope that we might try again. She had her job at the bank, still, and was saving money, and maybe she could help me to keep writing.

And as the wider world closed in on me, I watched the anti-segregation marches in Montgomery Alabama, fire-hoses turned on blacks, kickings and clubbings; Governor George Wallace:

'"– Segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever – "

1960's. Freedom and Insanity in the air.

(Read more at David Rome: Pulp Writer!]

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Magazine/Anthology

[March 18, 1963] The Missing Piece (April 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

In prior articles, the latest news has headlined and set the stage for the SFnal reviews that followed.  This week, however, the news is all internal, filled with tidbits like

"YOUNG TRAVELER LEADS ACADEMIC LEAGUE TO DISTRICT CHAMPIONSHIPS!"

and

"FIVE YEARS OF R&D CULMINATES IN PRODUCT LAUNCH FOR TRAVELER-HELMED COMPANY!"

And yet, amongst the turmoil created by Mundac the Destroyer, we manage to continue the Journey — our most prized endeavor.  It helps that we now have a tremendous constellation of volunteer writers, allowing us to return to a every-other-day schedule for the first time in four years.  Still, I must do my part.

And so, amidst preparations for the Young Traveler's birthday party, I carved out time to read the April Fantasy and Science Fiction.  It is the inverse of last month's, which was forgettable or worse — until the last story.  This month's is surprisingly good… except for the last few stories.  A fair exchange, I think…

Fast Trip, by James White

Fritz Leiber recently wrote about how computers will soon be advanced enough to beat the best humans at chess in The 64-Square Madhouse.  Anne McCaffrey has written a tale of human brains cybernetically fused computers to control spaceships (The Ship Who Sang).  Now, returns my favorite SF-writing Ulsterian with his own spin on things.  In Fast Trip, we see what happens in a world where pilots are exclusively trained on their own spaceship, for whom swapping craft is as uncomfortable as swapping right-handed gloves with a fellow half your size… and with two left hands.  A good technical thriller.  Four stars.

Still Shall the Lovers, by Doris Pitkin Buck

A poem on how real stars shall always pale in brilliance to those in new lovers' eyes.  Three stars.

Place of Refuge, by Robert J. Tilley

A quick quality dip as Bristolian Tilley writes of the real world as if it be the nightmare, and vice versa.  Uninspired.  Two stars.

The Short and Happy Death of George Frumkin, by Gertrude Friedberg

A playwright, herself, Friedberg turns her hand to a Moderan-esque tale in which a nonagenarian playwright with an electric heart enjoys a brief flash of youthful energy when he's taken off batteries and plugged into the house line.  It's cute.  Three stars.

The Rigid Vacuum, by Isaac Asimov

There are few compound words I like better than "Luminiferous Ether," and fewer people I'd ask to explain this light-conveying substance than The Good Doctor Asimov.  Four stars for the first half of what looks to be a Two Parter.

Tell Me, Doctor – Please, by Kit Reed

Ms. Reed has recently moved and left no forwarding address, sadly terminating our burgeoning correspondence.  As a result, I have no authorial insight for this tale.  Nevertheless, Doctor is a strange and moving piece on dependence and torture as operatives of an evil state attempt to extract the secret of time travel from a bedridden exile from the future.  Difficult to read, and the ending is a strange Matryoshka that I'm still not sure I understood.  But like so much of Reed's stuff, it grips.  Four stars.

Kindergarten, by Fritz Leiber

A straightforward piece on learning the basic X-Y-Zs in a most unusual (and yet, the most commonplace) of settings.  Four stars.

The Voyage of the "Deborah Pratt", by Miriam Allen deFord

F&SF, more than any other SFF digest, is a haven for ghost stories.  This one, involving a 19th Century brig on the Gold Coast run, makes no great advances in plot.  Ah, but the telling, and the subject matter (far more horrific than the fantastic elements), are superb.  Five stars, and sure to be anthologized many times.

The Old Man of the Mountains, by Terry Carr

Over time, certain names in our genre incite a Pavlovian response in me.  For instance, Sheckley provokes a grin.  Garrett incites nausea.  Carr, a newish writer and long-time Big Name Fan, definitely brings about positive reactions, having now impressed me several times in rapid succession.  This pastoral piece, set in the mountains of Oregon, features the reunion of a country-turned-city boy, and the ornery cuss who knew his uncle many years before.  Like the deFord, the quality is in the telling.  Four stars.

My Son, the Physicist! by Isaac Asimov

Here's an inconsequential short-short from a fellow who has mostly abandoned science fiction.  I understand Asimov got a princely per-word sum for this piece, and it was used to adorn an advertisement for Hoffman Electronics in one of last year's Scientific Americans.  Three stars.

The World Must Never Know, by G. C. Edmondson

I really want to like Edmondson, a fellow San Diegan and one of the few non-Whites who has made it into the ranks of the SFF genre (he's Mexican).  But this latest in the series of stories set South of the Border, guest-starring a Mestizo who met an extraterrestrial policeman (to the former's profit, and the latter's dismay), is just too affected.  Two stars.

The Histronaut, by Paul Seabury

I didn't think I'd ever meet a time travel/alternate history story I didn't like, but Seabury managed to produce one.  One page of story preceded by many pages of dithering and nonsense.  And that single page isn't worth the wait.  One star.

Not Counting Bridges, by Robert L. Fish

Finally, a piece on the growing footprint of space devoted to the transit, maintenance, and storage of motor vehicles.  Two stars, careening toward one had it been longer than two pages.

That's a pretty sour note to leave a magazine that still scored a decent 3.2 stars on the Galacto-Meter.  If you stop before the Edmonson, I think you'll find your time thoroughly rewarded.

Speaking of which, I'm now off to jump on the giant trampoline we rented for the birthday party.  If I spot any X-15s on the way down, I'll be sure to snap a photo…




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