Category Archives: Science Fiction/Fantasy

[August 31, 1966] Flights of Fancy (September 1966 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

Nonstandard Deviation

Mr. Campbell of the good ship Analog is an interesting character.  Known for his strident, occasionally downright offensive editorials, his fetish for pseudoscience, and his increasingly inconsistent (one might say half-hearted) story selection, he is both much-loved and much-maligned.

But, as Galactic Journey's editor likes to say, people contain multitudes.  Or more simply, he and his magazine aren't all bad.  If Analog sometimes hits disappointing lows, it also still reaches highs reminiscent of Analog's golden days (when it was called Astounding).  His story sets are not monolithic.  Sometimes they're downright surprising.

As Exhibit A, I submit the September 1966 Analog, a most unusual issue:

Charting new terrain


by John Schoenherr

The Mechanic, by Hal Clement

Hal Clement is best known for his nuts-and-bolts science fiction, as crunchy as unmilked cereal — and often as dry.  This piece tells the tale of a near-future hydrofoil dispatched to the Arctic to determine what's causing the extinction of zeowhales.  These cybernetic creatures have metal bodies but psuedoliving flesh, and some disease is dissolving them from the inside out.

Of course, the hydrofoil is also metallic, and bad things happen to a disintegrating ship zooming along at hundreds of miles per hour.


by Kelly Freas

Slow to start and very very explanatory, but the ideas are interesting and the latter half riveting if gruesome.

Three stars.

A Matter of Reality, by Carole E. Scott


by Leo Summers

A common charge leveled at Campbell is that he doesn't like to publish women.  I don't think that's fair.  The industry as a whole has an unfortunate shortage of woman-penned stories.  If Analog tends to be mostly a stag mag, it's just at one end of the bell curve, not a true outlier.  Indeed, Campbell discovered Pauline Ashwell and Katherine Maclean, two of the field's brightest lights.

Women not only write for Analog, they read it, too: A Matter of Reality came off the slush pile, submitted by Ms. Scott, a self-proclaimed admirer of Campbell and his mag for nearly two decades. 

Her first story contains none of the Campbellian touchstones: no psionics, no smugly superior Terrans, etc.  Instead, it's an interesting piece about an old man's final act, a literal embodiment of the phrase, "All the world's a stage."

I'd expect to find such a fantastic piece in Galaxy or F&SF, but Scott likes Analog the best, and her story makes for a nice change of pace in Campbell's mag.

Three stars, and I look forward to her next piece.

… Not a Prison Make, by Joseph P. Martino


by John Schoenherr

With the Vietnam war escalating and the President calling for double the troops (600,000 — this proposal just rejected by Congress), it's not surprising that the situation is finding echoes in our science fiction.

Martino offers up a proxy war between the Terrans and the Kreg on a third-party planet peopled by primitives.  The humans are subject to the most debilitating hit and run raids by the indigenes, who possess the powers of teleportation and limited clairvoyance.

Two viewpoints are espoused in the story: the military leader opines that the raiders are bandits, and the best bandit is a dead one.  The civilian expert believes that the hearts and minds of the populace must be won or the insurgency will have infinite longevity. 

Some clever defenses are built up against the natives, but they only constitute delaying actions.  The paradigm must be radically altered if success is to be had.

This story really had potential, but it ended just as it was getting interesting, and with none of the more profound points addressed.  Of course, no one really knows how to end a guerilla insurgency (predicting its death by the close of this century seems optimistic), but I'm dissatisfied with a story that concludes essentially with "then we won!"  I did appreciate that the characters were all South/Southeast Asian (from what I know of surnames).

Three stars.

Challenge, by Joe Poyer

The fictional piece is followed by an in-depth analysis of insurgency and counter-insurgency.  The author suggests that until the counter-insurgents learn to fight the insurgent game, and better than the insurgents, they won't win.  Interestingly, the latest plan for Vietnam is to field division-sized battlefield units, not just to quell the VC, but also to engage in peaceful, nation-building activities.  I'm not hopeful.

Anyway, Challenge is not a bad piece, though I don't know that it qualifies as "science."  Also, I would not classify the Watts riots as an insurrection.

I miss Robert S. Richardson's astronomy articles.  Three stars.

Symbols, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

The river has frozen a month early, and the Gurt are under attack.  The Ghisrans are pouring across the ice now, threatening a precious mine that is vital to the Terran Navy.  If a handful of agents with an unarmed spaceboat are unable to stop them, the sector may fall.

I'm not sure what's more offensive: the portrayal of the lone female character as "hysterical" or the padding of this vignette to double size with Campbell-pleasing folderol about symbolic logic. 

Definitely the most reactionary of this month's pieces.  Two stars.

Too Many Magicians (Part 2 of 4), by Randall Garrett


by John Schoenherr

Ahh, but all that is washed away with the latest installment of the adventures of Lord Darcy, investigator in an alternate 1966 where thaumaturgy has trumped science.  As we saw last time, there had been two murders by unknown assailants, both by similar knives.  One of the victims was an Imperial double agent, killed while trying to ferret out a traitorous Anglo-Frenchman.  The other was an exalted state wizard.

The bombshell of this installment is that the two murders are connected, tightly.

A lot of great detective work in this one, as well as a tour to magical London's equivalent of a World Expo.  Garrett channels Doyle more and more these days, but so far it's working.

Four stars!

Charting a New Course

This experimental issue of Analog doesn't break any records, finishing dead-averagely at 3 stars.  Nevertheless, I applaud Campbell's willingness to experiment, and I enjoyed the issue.  Finishing above it were the superlative New Worlds (3.8 stars), the fine Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.5 stars), and the decent (but mostly because of a reprint) SF Impulse (3.2 stars).

Analog barely edged out IF (3 stars) and decidedly beat Fantastic (2.7 stars).

It was a good month overall for reading.  If one took all the magazine stories/serials that got 4 or 5 stars, they could potentially fill three magazines!  Also, women were responsible for 15.6% of all new fiction, a high water mark for sure.

On this triumphant note, I am off to Cleveland for this year's Worldcon.  Who will win the Hugos?  We'll have to wait a week to find out!  Rest assured, you'll be able to read all about it here long before the next edition of Ratatosk or Focal Point (or Skyrack, for my British friends) hits your mailbox.

And if you are in Cleveland next weekend, be certain to join us for the showing of the first Star Trek pilot at 7pm Eastern (4pm Pacific!).






[August 28, 1966] Messiahs and Resignation (New Worlds and SF Impulse, September 1966)


by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

An interesting month for the Brit magazines, as there seems to be changes going on – again. More of which later, but I’m going to change convention this month and start with New Worlds, simply because it arrived first!


Terrific cover by Keith Roberts

The magazine is here.

Having had time off from writing the Editorial for a couple of months, editor Mike Moorcock’s back and clearly on a mission. His Editorial this month sets out his stall from the beginning as it once again tackles the often-taboo subjects of sex and religion in SF.

Regular readers will know that really this is actually nothing new – Moorcock’s mentioned these topics before, and often.  My first review of New Worlds was of an issue with the Harry Harrison story The Streets of Askelon in it, which is mentioned here as an example of a controversial story. However, this time the stories are being used to provoke ‘head-on’, with Mike baldly stating in this Editorial that he is out to shock – ”… we anticipate a certain response to the stories in this issue…” .

Do they really shock, though? Whilst there are undoubtedly aspects that will be surprising and even be actively disliked by some readers, most of the stories cover themes and ideas already touched upon in both New Worlds and SF Impulse in recent months. The Streets of Askelon was published four years ago, and there have been similarly controversial stories since. (Langdon Jones's story I Remember, Anita is also mentioned, which I thought I hated, but actually liked!) In the last few issues there has been a regular trend of stories with a religious element to them, usually not positive, although at least they are often looking at it from a different angle.

Anyway, with the proverbial stall set, let’s get to the stories!


Illustration by James Cawthorn

Behold, The Man, by Mike Moorcock

And to the big story of the month, given a dramatic cover by Keith Roberts. (I know I have been quite dismissive of some of Keith's previous covers, but this one I really like.)

Some may regard the story as deliberately provocative, a sensation-piece written with little purpose other than to gain attention and sales by means of creating outrage. The sort of thing that if it were in the newspapers would generate that “Did you read that?” response, followed by the outcry which then gets others to read it.

Personally, I am much more forgiving. If you’ve read any New Worlds or Impulse over the last year or so, you will find the main religious theme of this story there already.

Time-travelling Karl Glogauer lands in 29AD aiming to find the Nazarene Jesus Christ. He meets John the Baptist, and eventually  Jesus. To Gloghauer’s horror, he finds that the Jesus he encounters is not the one expected from the Scriptures but instead a gibbering imbecile. Reluctantly Karl realises that he must take on the role and the responsibility and become what people in the future expect Jesus to be, even though he knows what will happen to him.

Having berated New Worlds for the clumsy story Look On His Face last month which covered similar ground, it would be easy to do the same here, but for the fact that this is a much superior tale. The character is nuanced, the story engaging and most of all surprisingly respectful towards the idea of religion. Although religion is undoubtedly central to the story, it also looks at loyalty, responsibility and duty, as well as the effect of symbolism and idolism on a mass of people to create a memorable story. I suspect that this is a story that will be remembered for a long time, even outside of the initial outrage. Another 5 out of 5. (That’s two in two months… a worrying habit!)

That Evening Sun Go Down, by Arthur Sellings

And then back to Earth with a bump. Another appearance of a regular author here, though one who’s rarely impressed me. That Evening Sun Go Down begins with something written in the style of Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange before telling us it is another – yes, another post-apocalyptic tale. Space-filler, sadly. 3 out of 5.

Signals, by John Calder

A new name to me. The story of a scientist with a scientific discovery of “interatomic communication”, based around the atom, but instead of telling it like it would be in an Asimov story this keeps veering into talk about sex, which fits with the brief of the magazine but to me feels tacked on, presumably in an attempt to be controversial. Not really sure whether this is meant to be parody, but in places it does feel like it.  2 out of 5.


Illustration by James Cawthorn

A Taste of the Afterlife, by Charles Platt and B. J. Bayley

This is an intriguing one, as a collaboration between two regulars. Platt is now recognised by the magazine as “Designer”, I see. The story is set in the future as Fairweather, our narrator, is given an assignment in some future Cold War – installations have been destroyed, apparently by some sort of interference beam or covert saboteurs, and it is his job to discover the cause. To do this, Fairweather must exist in the Afterlife, which involves killing him in order to travel there. An intriguing idea, but it all boils down to being James Bond-type stuff. It does sound a little like the movie Fantastic Voyage, which I gather was just released in the US – Jason has talked about it already. The novel is reviewed in SF Impulse this month, more of which later. 3 out of 5.

The Atrocity Exhibition, by J. G. Ballard

And on to a big-hitter with the return of J. G. Ballard. The title alone suggests that we’re back in Ballard-territory. Bleak, disparate, odd, memorable, peppered throughout with references to cultural and religious icons – the Madonna, Nagasaki, Elizabeth Taylor, Garbo. Really defies explanation, but this feels more like a return to form after the last couple of lack-lustre efforts. Nearly as good as the Moorcock story for me, although I am starting to feel that what once was startlingly original in style is now a little tired. 4 out of 5.

Another Little Boy, by Brian W. Aldiss

What! Another Aldiss story?

Interestingly, this one has an introduction from Aldiss that explains that it was inspired by a previous story by J. G. Ballard. Whilst I’m never a fan of authors having to explain their story, this one actually is not bad, and gives a whole new meaning to that phrase “Make Love, not War!” as in the future the commercialisation of sex and industrialisation of contraception has created a quite-different society to what we have now. Determined to celebrate the beginning of this enlightened age, the characters decide to re-enact the dropping of an atom bomb over Nagasaki. Sounds barmy – and it is! – but you can never accuse Aldiss of writing the same thing over and over. Silly, but entertaining. 4 out of 5.

Invaded by Love, by Thomas M. Disch

And talking of love, here’s another story involving it. Although he has been around a while, I think that this is my first read of material from another American who like Roger Zelazny is making waves with his New Wave stylings. This one fits Moorcock’s theme this month as it tackles religious belief head on and adds to this a drugs element. In the story an alien preacher arrives on Earth, attempting to sign humans up to his Universal Brotherhood of Love. As part of this the alien offers little yellow pills which eliminate violence and feelings of anger. As more and more people globally take the drug, war is eliminated but it also leads to unintended results such as world-wide famine as humans refuse to slaughter animals as well.

There is some resistance. An attack by the human resistance on the alien’s orbiting spaceship simply leads to the arrival of an alien fleet, which there is now no urge to attack. Eventually the world succumbs to this alien invasion.

This is a surprisingly dark tale, which reminded me a little of Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land, without quite so much of the hectoring, or perhaps Arthur C Clarke’s Childhood’s End. Am sure Philip K Dick is writing similar stuff too, of whom more in a moment. The idea that invasion occurs not through war but by peace is an intriguing one. At times the story is a tad unsubtle, but overall, the story is quite impressive – I expect to read more from this promising writer. 4 out of 5.

Book Reviews

After his skewering of Goddard’s film Alphaville last month, John Brunner returns to criticise novels this month by exploring the work of Philip K Dick, who I’ve mentioned already this month.

As PKD is regarded as one of the New Wave of writers, perhaps unsurprisingly Brunner is also a fan of all of PKD’s work and as a result this month’s analysis is less eviscerating and more complimentary. It is well explained and detailed with an exhaustive list of novels mentioned at the end. Putting my cards on the table, I must say that personally Dick is an author I admire but not love. I generally prefer his short stories to his novels, but this article might even get me to try some of those PKD novels I haven’t tried yet.

James Cawthorn then covers a trilogy of books all dealing with planetary exploration. This includes Hal Clement’s Close to Critical, John Rankine’s Interstellar Two Five and Trivana 1 by R. Cox Abel and Chas. Barren. He also reviews John Carnell’s New Writings in SF 8 and a couple of Compact SF publications (the publisher of this magazine coincidentally), including The Deep Fix by a certain James Colvin.

Lastly, Hilary Bailey reviews lots of items in brief this month. This includes Night of Light by Philip Jose Farmer, Bow Down to Nul by Brian Aldiss, Henry Kuttner’s Fury, Merril and Kornbluth’s Gunner Cade, Clash of Star Kings by Avram Davidson and rather weirdly, a non-fiction book The Family and Marriage in Britain by Ronald Fletcher. Well, I guess that it fits in with the theme of sex in the issue!

There are no Letters pages this month. It’ll be interesting to see how the mail-bag fills after this determinedly controversial issue.

Summing up New Worlds

I said last month that I thought New Worlds was one of the best for a long time. This one is, if anything, better. The Moorcock story is most memorable, but then the rest of the register – Ballard, Aldiss – is not too shabby either, and Disch is particularly impressive if a little unsubtle. The Editor’s insistence on including new names is still admirable, but also means some expectedly lesser efforts, but even there I have read worse. A very good issue overall, even if it is not as controversial as the Editor would like us to believe.

The Second Issue At Hand


Another cover by Keith Roberts

And after all that hullabaloo, let’s go to SF Impulse. Here there’s also controversy, as editor Kyril Bonfiglioli is stepping down. His editorial is short and brief – I’ll show it here.

Must admit, I felt that this was on the cards, although I expected the ending would be a little more graceful. I have said in recent issues how much Kyril seemed to be treading water, and this might explain it. Or perhaps it was the title-change to SF Impulse last month that was the last straw.

Harry Harrison in his new Editor role writes in Critique of the novelisation of the movie Fantastic Voyage, which I’ve already mentioned this month. He’s not a fan of the novelisation, although he is keen not to place blame solely with the “good doctor” Asimov.

The Rig by Chris Boyce

An odd one, which is partly science fiction horror and partly allegorical, I think. A strange lily plant grows in the North Sea, and Jalovec, a scientist, is sent to a nearby oil rig to determine what it actually is. It seems that the plant is telepathic and generates emotional responses in those humans around it. When the plant’s effect spreads to Britain, catastrophe ensues. I did wonder if this was a take on the social drugs movement and “flower power”. At a more visceral level it reads like a psychedelic version of Day of the Triffids.

I was more intrigued by the claim at the top on the banner that Boyce’s last story, George in the June issue of Impulse was popular, as I didn’t like it. But then what do I know? I’m not sure I love this one, either. 3 out of 5.

Martians at Dick’s End by Daphne Castell

Good to see the return of a female regular here, but as the title suggests, the story is a parody. Martians crashland near a remote farm at Dick’s End – cue lots of low-level sniggering – and the narrator tells of how their blacksmith grandfather and his fellow villagers help the Martians fix their ship. In the meantime these white furry aliens acclimatise by speaking with quotes from television, and learn pub games like shove ha’penny.

As I’ve said before, these either work for you or they don’t. For me, they usually don’t, although this one I found gently amusing. I must admit that it does bring a degree of levity after the rather po-faced Boyce story, although it would never happen in The Archers (a British radio soap opera, been running about 15 years now). 3 out of 5.

Timothy, by Keith Roberts

And the return of the ever-so-busy Mr. Roberts, who seems to be keeping the magazine going almost solo at the moment. Many will be pleased at the return of Keith’s Anita, the naughty teen witch of many a previous issue.

Personally, the Anita series has varied in quality for me – usually depending on how much Anita’s Granny is in the story – but they are often entertaining. This latest story tells of Timothy, a scarecrow Anita made last Spring and who she has now decided to bring to life. As expected, chaos ensues when Timothy falls in love with her. It reads rather like a British version of Disney’s Sorcerer’s Apprentice from Fantasia. Light and inoffensive, but might just satisfy the demand for more Anita stories. 3 out of 5.

The Writing Man by M. J. P. Moore

A new name to me here. It is one of those experimental stories that reads as a stream of consciousness until the twist at the end, which I saw coming from a long way away. It’s been done before, perhaps too many times. 2 out of 5.

Audition by Fred Wheeler

A new name. A mercifully short story.

Jodrell Bank receives a communication from space, which it replies to. Other countries then attempt their own responses, which leads to the killer last line. (Not.) More filler. As a brief story it reads more like a joke told in a pub. It is OK but you’ll never remember it once you’ve finished the magazine. 2 out of 5.

Make Room! Make Room! (Part 2 of 3), by Harry Harrison

Last month, I gave the first part of this a 5 out of 5 rating, something I don’t think I’ve ever done before. Admittedly, whilst it is basically a detective story set in a future dystopian setting, I was impressed by the nuanced characters and the descriptions of shabbiness and squalor in a world of overcrowded excess, crime and with a lack of resources.

This time around, Police Detective Andy Rusch is still investigating the death of crime boss “Big Mike” O'Brien. However, his relationship with O'Brien’s mistress Shirl has become complicated to the point where she moves in with Andy and his older friend Sol. The perpetrator of the crime, teenager Billy Chung, leaves the city and escapes to the decrepit Brooklyn Navy Yard where he meets Peter. Peter is another vagrant who is convinced that the world will come to an end at the oncoming millennium, but despite this the two find solace in looking after each other.

The story is still bleak. Much of it is about the situation around Andy and Shirl, which shows us unremitting squalor and decay. Whilst the O'Brien investigation is ongoing, it seems to take a step back here for the story to concentrate on other aspects. None of the characters come out of this well, yet their reasons for being like this in a dog-eat-dog world are clear.

I was interested to see if the story maintained its high score from last month, and I’m pleased to say that mainly because of the vivid imagery it still does. So again, 5 out of 5. We still have the murder to solve in the final part – I am interested to read how this one ends.

Summing up SF Impulse

This is not a bad issue. It could have been Kyril’s attempt to throw in anything left in the slush pile, but under the steering hands of Keith Roberts, it’s not that different to normal. Which raises the question of how long Roberts has been doing this for, with Kyril taking the credit.

In short, it’s another middle-mark issue overall, with some very good (e.g. the Harrison) and some not to my tastes. It’s not a disaster, which it could have been, but it is clear that there’s some filler here. My response is tempered by the fact that I realise how much hard work is going on behind the scenes to get an issue – anything like an issue – out on time.

Summing up overall

With everything going on this month, it perhaps shouldn’t be too much of a surprise for me to suggest that New Worlds is the significant ‘winner’ this month. Like Harrison’s novel for SF Impulse last month, the Moorcock story alone is almost enough to guarantee a win, but to which is also added a Ballard and an Aldiss which I thought were superior fare. More importantly, New Worlds shows a coherence and a quality that SF Impulse seems to lack. It is perhaps not surprising, though. It’ll be interesting to see if future issues of SF Impulse alter much with the change in management.

Until the next…



[August 24, 1966] Fantastic Voyage lives up to its name!


by Jason Sacks

It’s finally here! And it was worth the wait. Fantastic Voyage has reached the big screen, and it’s spectacular.

Fantastic Voyage may be the most advertised science fiction film ever made, with intriguing articles in Life and Look, a novelization published in The Saturday Evening Post and about a zillion articles in Famous Monsters in Filmland. And despite this endless campaign – or maybe because of it – I'm delighted to tell you this audacious film deserves its media ubiquity.

Fantastic Voyage starts like a super-spy film. Genius Eastern Bloc scientist Dr. Jan Benes defects to the United States, established in a dramatic scene of Benes landing on the tarmac of a Los Angeles-area airport. However, on the journey from a Los Angeles-area airport to a safe house, the scientist is attacked by a group never identified to us but who likely are agents from the same Eastern Bloc country. During the battle, Benes receives a near-fatal brain injury, and he is rushed to a secret military base. In the base, a top-secret and nearly impossible operation must be conducted to save Benes: a journey into his own bloodstream to destroy the cause of his injury.

That initial sequence took me by surprise. The first ten minutes of Fantastic Voyage contain no dialogue and no exposition. The viewer isn’t given any context around what is happening, and the events have a surprising absence of spy thriller heroism. This isn't James Bond battling SPECTRE in Thunderball. In fact, the film cuts away from a gun battle for us to follow the scientist to the secret base. This is an audacious decision by director Richard Fleischer which keeps viewers focused on the important aspects of the film, not the extraneous fluff which seems exciting but wouldn't add any necessary drama to the film’s events.

In a delightful bit of casting, our point of view character here (named Grant) is played by Stephen Boyd. In real life, Boyd was born in Ireland and apparently was a finalist for the role of James Bond in Doctor No. Boyd resembles Sean Connery, with his rugged facial features and strong chin. The resemblance makes the next sequence of this film more fun.

Grant himself is brought to the same secret government facility in which Dr. Benes is convalescing. As viewers soon discover, the facility is buzzing like a hornet’s nest, full to the brim with important-seeming people wandering to and fro in golf carts in order to do their jobs. This agency, the CMDF, has somehow developed the ability to shrink humans to the size of a cell, and is able to inject Grant and four explorers into Benes’s bloodstream to destroy the blood clot in his brain.

The CMDF is a clever inversion of the great work NASA is doing these days: yet another government institution devoted to exploring inner space rather than outer space. Of course, users have to suspend their disbelief to appreciate the CMDF, but there's plenty of suspension of disbelief required to enjoy this movie.

The group of explorers includes a noble doctor and his brave assistant (who, as you undoubtedly know, is played by the gorgeous Raquel Welch), a stalwart pilot, and a treacherous scientist played by Donald Pleasence. None of the characters are very subtle in this movie; all are cardboard in a way reminiscent of the worst Bond pastiches. For instance, Cora, portrayed by Welch, has a moment of feminism but soon becomes a traditional kind of weak female cliché. And anyone who doesn’t immediately suspect that Pleasence's character, Dr. Michaels, will turn Benedict Arnold on the crew is simply not paying close attention.

But this is not a character movie as much as an adventure movie. We don’t expect deep characters in a film like this one, and their characterization is secondary to all the other events we witness.

Fleischer takes pains to spell out the miniaturization process and the way the bloodstream submarine works. The multistage segment in which the sub is shrunk feels a bit laborious, though the scenario seems intentionally set to remind viewers of the way our beloved Mercury and Gemini rockets work.

Padding aside, I felt myself leaning forward in my seat at the Northgate Cinemas, anxious to see what would happen as the sub was injected into Benes's body. And of course, as the color spread in Look shows us, this is when the movie begins feeling truly full of splendor. The scenes of the submarine traversing veins, arteries and capillaries are perfect contemporary action scenes for a 1966 movie. Reportedly many of these scenes were filmed in giant soundstages, with a full-sized version of the submarine along with several miniatures.

This is where the big budget backing of 20th Century Fox makes the film much stronger. The level of detail portrayed here is impressive, with the giant, almost prison-cell-like blood corpuscles feeling like an ever-present danger.

There’s a major sequence of the film in which the Boyd character gets lost in the scientist’s lungs. As I read several times in Famous Monsters, this sequence was actually filmed in two soundstages on the Fox lot. When Boyd pierces one of Benes's lungs, the breath flings Boyd a long distance. Viewers absolutely see and feel the distance Boyd is flung. This drama would have been impossible to simulate without the giant stage setting, giving viewers a strong sense of space.

As the explorers work their ways through the body, doctors and military men watch. It’s clever how sometimes the watchers are helpless – there’s a funny series of moments when the Arthur O’Connell character, Col. Donald Reid, drinks cup after cup of sugary coffee due to his stress.

Other times the observers are active participants in the drama, as when the explorers make their way to the scientist’s ear, which demands absolute silence. When one nurse accidentally drops a pair of scissors, real chaos ensues – and delivers one of the most thrilling moments of the film.

Though much of Fantastic Voyage is predictable, its special effects, coupled with the dramatic score by Leonard Rosenman, make the voyage  exciting and often thrilling. Director Fleischer, who directed the similar 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea back in 1954, has a steady hand and clearly understands how to keep the viewer engaged in the story he is telling.

Of course, not a bit of this film makes sense once you start to contemplate its ideas. Isaac Asimov’s adaptation of this movie in the February 26 and March 3 editions of The Saturday Evening Post fills in many of those gaps, and I just saw the collected version of Asimov's adaptation at my local Korvette’s. I highly recommend the novelization because Asimov addresses many issues — including naming Dr. Benes.

But logic and reason aren’t the reason to see a film like Fantastic Voyage. For sheer gosh-wow spectacle, presented in full CinemaScope glory, Fantastic Voyage is well worth your buck twenty-five admission.

Four stars.






[August 20, 1966] Looking forward, looking back (September 1966 Fantasy and Science Fiction)


by Gideon Marcus

Journeys to Come

We're now just a couple of weeks out from Tricon, the Cleveland-hosted Worldcon!  We'll get to mingle with our fellow fen, meet our favorite authors, drink lots of bheer, and figure out who gets to go home with a rocketship in their luggage.


Modern Cleveland

The much-ballyhooed new science fiction anthology, Star Trek, debuts on September 15.  However, all the fans are abuzz that they'll be privately showing the show's pilot at Tricon.  I hope you all will join us at Tricon to watch it!

Journeys we Have

As exciting as the things to come might be, we still have plenty of exciting stuff to enjoy right now.  To wit, this month's Fantasy and Science Fiction is quite a solid mag.


by Jack Gaughan

Luana, Gilbert Thomas

A mycologist (a real fun-gi) with a yen for sculpture combines both vocation and avocation when the latest Gemini brings home a space spore.  The resulting fruiting body proves warm, delicate, and eager to be carved.  The scientist does so, in the form that has occupied the efforts of sculptors since the Neolithic…with less than savory results.

A decade ago, this minor bit of titillation would have been fodder for Venture.  Cute but utterly forgettable.  Three stars.


by Gahan Wilson

The Productions of Time (Part 2 of 2), John Brunner

Last month, the author had left us on a tremendous cliffhanger.  Murray Douglas, a washed out but on the wagon film star (viz. Kirk Douglas in Two Weeks in Another Town) has been increasingly unsettled by the goings on at his latest production.  The writer, Delgado, seems deadset on sabotaging the play before it can gel, setting each of the actors and production crew at each other's throats.  The country retreat at which they are staying is equipped with the oddest of surveillance equipment, from two-way TVs to mysterious tape recorders placed just under a sleeper's pillows.  When Douglas calls Delgado on his actions, he wakes up the next morning with a severe headache and surrounded by half empty bottles of gin…

He quickly realizes it's all a set-up, and he heads to a local doctor to certify his utter sobriety.  Bolstering his sanity is the arrival of an unexpected ally: Heather, a member of the cast whose only purpose seems to be to sate the Lesbian tastes of another of the actresses, has also determined something odd is going on.  Douglas makes up his mind.  They will leave the retreat on the morrow.  But Delgado, and the unusually assertive valet, Valentine, have other plans.

Thus ensues the climax and rather satisfactory (though somewhat given away by the title) ending of this exciting novel.  It's rather short, so I'll be surprised if it gets turned into a full-length story.  Maybe one half of an Ace Double.  Nevertheless, it's a nice departure for the oft-brilliant author, notable for being told largely in dialogue (as befits a piece about play!)

Four stars.

Mr. Wilde's Second Chance, Joanna Russ

When the great playwright/poet arrives in the hereafter, he is offered the chance to rearrange the events of his luminous life into a more pleasing order.  The reward is, perhaps, another life.  Mr. Wilde is at once successful and unsuccessful.

I suspect I would have gotten more out of this story had I been more acquainted with the subject's work.  It's a four-star story regardless.

Municipal Dump, Max Gunther

R.J. Schroon, a rapacious hotelier with designs to bend the would-be paradise world of Cooltropic to his whim.  If it only weren't for the omnipresent, ever-irksome Bounders!  Fed up with these meddling puffballs, Schroon calls for their extermination.  He manages to eliminate one, frightening off the rest. 

Out of the frying pan…

This one feels like a lesser (though competent) tale from the early days of Galaxy.  Three stars.

Narrow Valley, R. A. Lafferty

The Wizard of Whimsy offers up this tale of a Pawnee, who protects his 160-acre reparation grant with a mighty spell.  It's not that others can't find the plot to poach — they just can't seem to get in!

A fun if rather trivial piece.  Three stars.

I'm Looking Over a Four-Leaf Clover, Isaac Asimov

In the conclusion to his articles on particles and cosmology, The Good Doctor offers up his own ideas on the origin of the universe.  In a nutshell, just as every subatomic particle seems to have both an opposite charged counterpart and a opposite baryon/lepton number, so the universe must have three counterparts so that the net value of energy and mass equals zero.  Add to this an 80 billion year boom and bust cycle, and one has a cosmos that requires no beginning or end, utterly symmetrical.

It's cute if nothing else.  And I'm banking on the nothing else.

Three stars.

Troubling of the Water, Zenna Henderson

Ms. Henderson has seemingly exhausted the modern day as a setting for her stories of The People.  The author is now recounting their first coming to Earth in the late 19th Century.  Water is a not-quite sequel to her last story.  A family in a Western territory (probably Henderson's native Arizona) finds their water supply dwindling below the sufficiency required for their crops.  On the eve of dessication, a member of The People, a race of gentle humanoid espers, literally falls from the sky in a ball of flame.

Zenna has told this story several times before: strange, gifted person (usually a child) is encountered/adopted by a human or group of humans.  Said alien eventually displays great powers to the benefit of the humans, and a bond of love is forged.

It's a testament to the author that the tale has not yet gotten old.  I do wonder if a collection of such stories (as is advertised as forthcoming) might be a bit much to take in one sitting, though.

Four stars.

Looking Back

In the end, the newest issue of F&SF breaks no new ground.  Indeed, had it been published in 1956 rather than 1966, I don't know that we'd have noticed (save for Asimov's piece, which relies on cutting edge science).  Still, it would have been one of the better issues of August 1956, just as it is one of the better amalgamations of SF in this month.

No complaints here!






[August 18th, 1966] Reawakening the Inner Child (Black and Blue Magic)

by Robin Rose Graves

When my young niece came to visit last month, I immediately ran to my bookshelf, perusing some browning pages I’ve kept since childhood. Stories that had fed my growing imagination that I longed to pass along to my niece. My excitement was quickly doused. Of the titles I picked, none were suitable for a young girl of eight years old. I’m afraid I am terribly out of touch with the milestones of childhood, having no kids of my own, nor plans to have any. Perhaps I needed to forget about the outdated stories I’ve loved and turn my attention to more modern titles.

Zilpha Keatley Snyder is a name that has recently come to my attention. While I missed out on her first two publications, Season of Ponies and The Velvet Room, I decided to give her most recent book, Black and Blue Magic, a chance. The clincher was that the main character is named Harry Houdini Marco.

As a child I gobbled up any sort of book about Harry Houdini. Magicians were the closest thing to actual magic and perhaps a small part of me believed if I mastered the art, I would become magical. However, my plans were foiled by my awkward co-ordination and fear of public speaking. The former, the main character and I have in common. Hence the title: “Black and Blue Magic.”

Harry Houdini, the Magician…not our child protagonist

Harry Houdini Marco was named thus by his talented magician father, who hoped young Harry would grow up to be the greatest magician of all time. What added to his high expectations was a prediction that Harry would possess a most unique type of magic — something Harry’s dad interpreted as proof that his wish would come true.

Now that his father has passed, Harry lives with his mother in a boarding house she runs. He still feels pressure to measure up to his dad’s dreams for him, but Harry has given up on trying to learn magic. As summer starts, he laments over how boring it will be with his best friend moving to another neighborhood and his Mom’s plans to treat them to a vacation having been foiled by a tenant moving out. More than anything, Harry wants his mom to find love and remarry, so she won't have to work so hard. He also dreams of leaving San Francisco behind and living on a farm.

Harry’s luck changes when he encounters a strange and clumsy man. After the man accidentally leaves his suitcase behind, Harry carries the case back to him and offers him lodging at the boarding house.

Days later, Harry is surprised to find the man has accepted his invitation. After a few nights of spying on him, Harry discovers Mr. Mazeeck is more than just a salesman — he’s also a once powerful, now disgraced and cursed wizard who sells magical items. After all the help Harry has given Mr. Mazeeck, the wizard thanks him by giving Harry an item from his suitcase — a small potion that when applied to his back and the magic words are uttered, allows Harry to sprout wings.

Just because Harry has wings doesn't mean he's any less clumsy

With his newfound magic, Harry spends every night of summer flying around San Francisco. He has misadventures each night such as landing in the monkey exhibit at the zoo only to be chased away by the animals, being mistaken as an angel by a drunkard, and stepping in to stop the corner store from being robbed. Without meaning to, Harry impacts the lives around him for the better. After sighting Harry, the drunkard quits drinking, and a grouchy neighbor turns kind after thinking an angel has been landing on her roof.

But as summer nears its end, Harry has yet to figure out how to set his mom up with one of the kindly residents. And his potion is about to run out…

Harry as a character is extremely likeable. He is average and unremarkable, yet incredibly altruistic with his newfound magic. Harry never passes up the opportunity to help another out. Like ripples, his actions unintentionally bring good to those around him.

While an upstanding example of a kid, he does not come across as unrealistic. He chases what he finds fun and has a sense of humor, which he shares with both his mom and the man he wants her to marry. Scenes between the two, and later, the three of them are warm and charming. The story truly made me believe that Harry loves his mom and wants what’s best for her — his hope that she can marry and no longer have to work the boarding house surpasses his desire to leave the city.

This book has the excellent message that our actions, what we do for those around us, matter. There is just a touch of magic added to give the story wonder; the desire to fly is just as human a quality as loving and helping one another.

Zilpha Keatley Snyder

While speeding through the book in two days, I can imagine this will be a book to be read one chapter a night to children. Each chapter is a small adventure. Though they sometimes leave off on a cliffhanger, these are quickly resolved within the first lines of the next chapter, defusing the tension. For example, one chapter ends with Mr. Mazeeck telling Harry that next time he’ll be in the city, Harry will be dead. This raised many exciting questions in my mind. Is this a warning that disaster is coming for San Francisco? Does Harry have an enemy that will soon emerge? Then I turned the page to the next chapter, and Mr. Mazeeck explains that this is because he’ll next visit San Francisco in 200 years. Being that Mr. Mazeeck is a wizard with a longer lifespan, he’ll simply outlive Harry by the next time he’ll visit. It's a simple explanation that quickly ruins any sort of tension created in the chapter before.

I understand, to some extent, why it’s written this way. In-between the question being raised and the answer quickly given, my head swam with imagination. It transported me back to my childhood, when ending the night on a cliffhanger chapter would fill me with wonder as I churned over ideas in my mind of where the story would go next, only too eager for the next night to read more. Such things incite imagination, one of the purposes of reading as a child. I did find it to be a let down with this book when the actual answer was rather bland compared to my own assumptions.

Nevertheless, it’s the ending that brought the book together for me. It is as sweet and full of wonder as the rest of the book, and brings several plot points spread throughout to a close in a more than satisfying way. Black and Blue Magic left me feeling happy and spoke to the inner child. I think it will be a more than suitable read for my niece, as well as something that will hold the test of time.

4 out of 5 stars.




[August 16, 1966] All Shook Up (Catastrophe Planet by Keith Laumer)


by Victoria Silverwolf

With apologies to Elvis Presley.

Retief and Company

Prolific author Keith Laumer was born in Syracuse, New York, in 1925. He served in the United States Army Air Forces during World War Two, then in the renamed US Air Force from 1953 to 1956, and again from 1960 to 1965, reaching the rank of captain. Between those latter two hitches in the military, he was with the US Foreign Service, stationed in Burma.


Appropriately, this recent photograph makes the writer look both serious and playful.

Laumer's time spent as a diplomat shows up in his many stories about James Retief, an agent for the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne, who tends to solve problems of interspecies relations with fists and trickery. These are comic tales, often venturing into slapstick. On a more serious note, his recent mainstream novel Embassy reflects his experiences in the Far East.


Cover art by Darrell Greene.

In addition to these works, he also writes fast-paced adventure stories, both serious and lighthearted. His new novel Catastrophe Planet is definitely one of the former.

Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On


Cover art by Richard Powers.

Our hero and narrator is Malcome (Mal) Irish. He lives in a near future of flying cars and other such technological wonders. More importantly, a shift in the Earth's crust has led to worldwide disaster. There are frequent earthquakes, a enormous increase in volcanic activity, and vast changes in the world's geography. The northern part of Florida, for example, is underwater, and the southern half is an island. (At this point, I'm reminded of the pretty good science fiction movie Crack in the World, although Laumer's apocalypse doesn't actually threaten to destroy the whole planet.)

His adventure begins in a small, deserted town in Georgia. (The US state, not the Soviet republic.) A dying man tells him a bizarre tale. During a secret operation in Antarctica, designed to stop the shifting of the crust, he and other military men discovered a frozen mastodon deep under the ice. That's unusual enough, but what makes it really weird is the fact that the ancient beast was wearing a harness. Add to that the body of a Neanderthal carrying what seemed to be a ray gun, along with other seemingly impossible relics, and they had a real mystery on their hands.

Before they could explore any further, however, strange men attacked and wiped them all out, except for the dying man, who managed to escape and make his way back to the United States. Mal has to battle similar men himself. They seem to be oddly emotionless, yet relentless in their attempts to kill him. Fortunately, they are also very poor fighters, and Mal manages to eliminate them, although he's never killed anyone before. (I'll warn you right now that a lot of people get killed in this book.)

Coin of the Realm

With his last, dying breath, the man tells Mal to take something out of his pocket. It turns out to be a gold coin, inscribed with writing in an unknown language. Mal travels to Miami, where he stays at the luxury hotel run by an old friend. (Although the city has undergone some damage from the disaster, it is fairly intact, and life goes on almost as it did before.) There's a convention of numismatists going on at the place, so he shows them the mysterious coin. It's pretty clear that this is more than just a meeting of coin collectors. They are all middle-aged men (likely enough), seem to have no interest in the partying at the convention (improbable), and are oddly emotionless (sounds familiar).

Damsel in Distress

Mal tails some of the men, and winds up saving a woman they try to attack. (She's a tough cookie herself, and manages to save him, too.) She speaks an unknown language, wears a strange metallic jumpsuit, and seems unacquainted with certain aspects of everyday life. (She doesn't recognize bread as food, for example.) Mal manages to figure out that her name is Ricia. They hide out in a cheap hotel for a while, where he also learns that she doesn't mind being completely naked in front of him.

While Mal is out on an errand, the bad guys kidnap Ricia. Desperate to track down her abductors, he heads to Crete, based on the solitary clue that the coin looks like something from that island. By good luck, he has already managed to find a seaworthy boat equipped with lots of supplies, including the guns that will come in handy in the book's battle scenes. (Mal finds the owner's corpse on the vessel, so he figures the dead guy won't mind.)

The City in the Sea

After sailing across the Atlantic, and crossing the new land bridge that now cuts the Mediterranean Sea in half, Mal meets an old buddy in Crete. With the help of a rather shifty fisherman, he finds out that some of the emotionless men paid the fellow to take them to a spot in the ocean, where they jumped in without diving suits.

Mal dons the proper scuba equipment and goes to the place, where he finds the entrance to an underwater building. Inside is a grotesquely huge man lying in a luxurious bed, protected by his slavish minions. It seems that Ricia was kidnapped for nefarious purposes, although perhaps not in the way you might expect. Mal and Ricia escape, but our story is far from over.

Out of the Wet Frying Pan and Into the Frozen Fire

Besides suffering from the bends after rising to the surface quickly, Mal gets captured by the bad guys, who have taken over the ship from which he dove. (They don't know that Ricia is hidden inside the decompression chamber of the vessel.) They take Mal to Antarctica, where he is to be subjected to questioning that he cannot resist, so they can find the woman. It all leads up to our two star-crossed lovers being reunited, and the discovery of the shocking secret of the immense ruler of the emotionless men.

Shaken, Not Stirred

Well! Our protagonists certainly go through enough dangers to shake anybody up. This rollercoaster of a thriller moves at a lightning-fast pace, with enough action to satisfy any fan of, say, James Bond. You won't have time to ponder the fact that the plot may not always make perfect sense, or that the whole thing is wildly implausible. The writing is vivid, and the hero, although highly competent, doesn't come across as unbelievably superhuman. You won't have any profound emotions stirred by the outrageous plot, but it's an enjoyable way to spend a few hours, maybe while you're sipping something to drink.

Three stars.


Shake it up, Baby!



For more exciting science fiction adventure, pick up a copy of Rosel George Brown's new hit novel, Sibyl Sue Blue, today!




[August 14, 1966] So Bad It's Hilarious (The Star Magicians by Lin Carter/The Off-Worlders by John Baxter (Ace Double G-588))


by Cora Buhlert

Science Fiction at the Newsstand

Perry Rhodan No. 258
Issue 258 of Perry Rhodan features the fan favourite character Gucky the mouse beaver on the cover, expertly drawn by Johnny Bruck.

Ever since its debut almost five years ago, West German science fiction has been synonymous with the dime novel series Perry Rhodan. Issue 258 of Perry Rhodan came out this week and so far, the series shows no sign of faltering.

Success breeds imitators and so there have been challengers for the crown of West Germany's premier science fiction series. The first challenger Mark Powers was hampered by old fashioned and inconsistent plots and so the series was discontinued in 1964, though Mark Powers still occasionally pops up in the pages of the anthology series Utopia Zukunftsroman.

This month, a new challenger appeared on West German newsstands. Ren Dhark is penned by former Perry Rhodan writer Kurt Brand and published by Kelter Verlag. Only one issue has come out so far, but what I've read looks promising.

Ren Dhark, No. 1
The first issue of Ren Dhark, the latest Perry Rhodan challenger

The story begins in the far off future of 2051 AD, when overpopulation – a popular theme in current science fiction, as Harry Harrison's Make Room, Make Room! and several of the stories collected in Orbit 1 show – forces humanity to look for a new home among the stars. So the starship Galaxis under the command of Captain Sam Dhark (no reason is given for the odd spelling of the name) departs for Deneb with fifty thousand colonists. However, the time effect drive malfunctions, stranding the Galaxis in the depths of space, turned into an involuntary generation ship.

Eventually, the Galaxis, now commanded by the titular Ren Dhark, son of the late captain, manages to find a habitable planet. But their problems have only just begun, because the planet in question is not only habitable, but also inhabited…

Ren Dhark started out promising enough, though not particularly innovative. Nonetheless, I will certainly haunt the newsstand on the lookout for issue 2.

Science Fiction at the Spinner Rack

The Off-Worlders by John Baxter

However, my main source of new science fiction is still the spinner rack at my local import bookstore. And during my last visit, I managed to snap up the latest Ace Double, number G-588 to be exact, which includes The Off-Worlders by John Baxter and The Star Magicians by Lin Carter.

The Off-Worlders has just been serialised in New Worlds under the title The God Killers, so I'll just point you to Mark Yon's review of the novel and delve right into the other half of this Ace Double.

Most readers of the Journey will probably know Lin Carter mainly from his "Our Man in Fandom" columns in If, but he is also an up and coming science fiction and fantasy writer. Erika Frank reviewed his sword and sorcery novel The Wizard of Lemuria last year. Now, Carter has set his sights on space opera, though barbarians still feature prominently.

A Familiar History

The Star Magicians by Lin Carter
Amazingly, Jack Gaughan's cover is an accurate illustration of a scene in the novel.

The Star Magicians begins with one of those dreaded information laden prologues which occasionally afflict science fiction novels. In fact, when I read the capsule history of the fall of the Great Carina Empire, I briefly wondered whether I had accidentally picked up a later book in an ongoing series.

But even if there is no previous novel in the series, the history of the Carina Empire, which is beset by barbarians at its borders and eventually breaks apart and descends into a new dark age, will seem familiar to anybody who knows even a lick of history, for here is the fall of the Roman Empire replayed once again in outer space.

However, one planet stands firm against the new dark age and the barbarian Star Rovers: the planet Parlion, which is inhabited by a group called the White Wizards, who preserve science and technology and are considered magicians by their less enlightened neighbours. If that story seems familiar, it's probably because you've read it before when it was still called Foundation and penned by Isaac Asimov.

Naked Bodies and Tortured Metaphors

Once the actual plot begins, the novel becomes more engaging, though not necessarily better or more original. The story proper opens in an arena, where a would-be Conan gladiator is fighting against an alien monster, while the barbarian warlord Drask looks on and fondles a naked girl.

The naked girl is a captive princess, though you wouldn't know it from the first chapter. Carter repeatedly starts and then fails to describe the young woman, getting sidetracked by reminiscing about the conquest of the planet in a pitched space battle, describing the chafing and sweat-soaked leather and iron garb of a barbarian warrior and lovingly detailing the manly vigour and magnificent body of the gladiator (who will be dead within two pages, his "nakedness clothed in dripping scarlet").

Here's a typical example of Lin Carter's tortured prose. If this is too much for you, best bail out now, because the entire book is like that:

Above, in the royal box, Drask reclined at his ease on the satin cushions, half his cynical attention on the tragic drama unfolding below, and half on the trembling young girl beside him, whose nude breasts he was idly fondling. A philosopher in his rough way, the Warlord of the Star Rovers mused on the changeful ways of Fate. In this moment of time the young Argionid swordsman was filled with robust life, bursting with manly vigor in the full hot morning of his youth… in the next moment, his splendid, virile body would be an awful bundle of bloody rags, crushed in the inexorable jaws of the slavering thard.

We are toys at the feet of the gods, he thought.

When Carter finally remembers to describe the young princess – or rather her breasts – he compares them to "warm, white fruit", at which point I wondered whether Carter has ever seen a naked woman, or eaten fruit, for that matter.

After the would-be Conan has met his demise, we are finally introduced to the actual protagonist, Perion of North Hollis (which sounds like a stop on the London Underground rather than a city on an alien planet), a minstrel sentenced to die in the arena for treason. However, Perion manages to outwit the monster and is pardoned and even invited to a feast of the Star Rovers, where he further ingratiates himself by stopping the captive princess from stabbing the warlord Drask. Her attempt at revenge foiled, the princess stabs herself and is forgotten within a page. We never even learn her name nor anything about her appearance except that she has breasts.

Lin Carter
Lin Carter

White Wizards and Green Goddesses

What follows is a clunky and exposition laden dialogue, which not only repeats information we already got in the equally clunky prologue, but also reveals that there is only one person who can stand against the mighty warlord Drask, namely Calastor, one of the White Wizards of Parlion. Not only does Calastor have superior quasi-magic technology, he also has dozens of minions willing to do his bidding. Worse, no one knows what he looks like. "For aught we know, he might be standing among us at the very moment," mutters one of the few named Star Rovers at the feast. Anybody who has read Isaac Asimov's Foundation series may develop certain suspicions at this point.

Since the princess committed suicide, Drask is in need of a new bed companion and picks a random dancing girl, who promptly tries to stab him again. Even Drask, who's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, thinks that two assassination attempts in one night are a little much to be a coincidence. So he examines the dagger with which the girl tried to stab him and finds a glowing green stone, a talisman dedicated to the Green Goddess of Malkh. The dancing girl is one of her priestesses. For it turns out that Drask has not one but two sworn enemies in the galaxy, the White Wizard and the Green Goddess. Of course, it might have been helpful if Carter had mentioned that tidbit of information before.

The interrogation of the dancing girl, whose name is revealed to be Lurn, reveals nothing, because Lurn downs a potion that – no, this time around, the potion doesn't kill her, it only makes her fall asleep. When the sleeping Lurn is taken to the dungeon for further interrogation, she vanishes into thin air.

Lurn reappears on the next day, hidden in Perion's baggage, which leads to both her and Perion being arrested. During their interrogation, Perion is unmasked as none other than Calastor, the White Wizard and sworn enemy of Drask. This turn of events might have been a genuine surprise, if Carter hadn't borrowed it wholesale from "The Mule" part of Isaac Asimov's Foundation trilogy. And just in case you failed to notice the parallels, Perion is even shown with a (pack)mule shortly before his arrest. In fact, the only surprise is that the reveal happens halfway through the novel rather than at the end, as I expected.

Calastor and Lurn escape Drask by teleporting to safety and engage in yet another exchange of long explanations aboard Calastor's spaceship. Calastor reveals that he must stop Drask and the Star Rovers soon, because they are threatening the planet that the White Wizards of Parlion have picked out as the nucleus of the new galactic empire they are trying to build.

Smoke and Mirrors

The story now heads to Xulthoom, the planet of mists and also the planet that drives men mad. Xulthoom is a fascinating setting with its ancient ruins and perpetual mists and I wonder what e.g. Leigh Brackett could do with it. Lin Carter does not nearly have Leigh Brackett's skills, but even he manages to convey the spooky atmosphere of Xulthoom.

Calastor uses his quasi-magical science to mentally destabilise the Star Rovers and turn them against each other, while gizmo-speaking to Lurn and spouting an amount of nonsense about psionics that would impress even John W. Campbell.

Due to Calastor's manipulations, the Star Rovers go mad one by one and begin to hear voices. Some literally die of fear. In the end, even Drask himself hears a voice, supposedly that of the Green Goddess, warning him to return to the Rim Stars whence he came or suffer the consequences. However, the message from the Green Goddess is not Calastor's doing. There is another power at work here.

Spooked by the message of the Green Goddess, Drask finally gives the order to abandon Xulthoom – no, not to go home, but to conquer the next planet, the one planet that the White Wizards want to keep the Star Rovers away from at all costs.

Calastor summons some help from Parlion and together the White Wizards attempt to dissuade the Star Rovers from travelling onwards by projecting an illusion of space dragons attacking the fleet. However, the Star Rover shaman Abdekiel, an offensive Asian stereotype who is frequently likened to a "butter yellow buddha", sees through the ruse.

So Calastor and his companions teleport aboard the Star Rover flagship to face Drask and his men directly. The White Wizards use their mental powers to disarm the barbarians, while Calastor gets involved in a prolonged and remarkably well described swordfight.

The standoff is interrupted by the Green Goddess herself, who thoroughly smites the Star Rover fleet, a scene strikingly illustrated by Jack Gaughan on the cover. Finally, the Goddess teleports the adversaries away, metes out punishment to Drask and gives her blessing to the marriage of Calastor and Lurn (who turns out to be a princess as well), who will rule together over the world that will become the nucleus of the new empire.

An Unholy Mess

Lin Carter was aiming for Isaac Asimov's Foundation as written by Robert E. Howard. However, Carter has the skill of neither Asimov nor Howard and so the result is just a mess.

One technique that Carter borrows from Robert E. Howard is Howard's tendency to begin a story with a supporting character before his barbarian adventurer Conan steps onto the scene. But while Howard never leaves any doubt that Conan is the hero of the story, Carter seems unsure which of his characters is the protagonist. By rights, Calastor and Lurn should be the stars, but Calastor vanishes for chapters at a time and Lurn never even acquires a personality, so Drask, the villain, is the closest thing to a protagonist this unholy mess of a novel has.

Make no mistake, this is a terrible book. It's certainly the worst book I have ever reviewed for Galactic Journey. The plot is hackneyed, the prose is tortured and so purple that it almost crosses over into ultraviolet. In fact, this book is so awful that I wonder how desperate Ace must have been to publish it. If there was a Hugo Award for the worst science fiction novel, The Star Magicians would be the uncontested winner.

However, this novel has one redeeming feature: it is at least entertainingly terrible. In fact, the book is utterly hilarious. I was giggling the whole time I read it and regaled friends and family members with reading Lin Carter's awful prose out loud. If The Star Magicians were a parody, it would be absolutely brilliant. But unfortunately, it's supposed to be a serious space opera adventure.

I'm sure there is something that Lin Carter excels at and I hope that he will eventually find it. However, writing science fiction is not it.

One and a half stars

AG Weser workers relaxing
Workers at the AG Weser shipyard in Bremen are enjoyaing a well deserved break in the summer sun.
Three young ladies bathing in Bremen
Meanwhile, these three young ladies are enjoying a swim in the Stadionbad public pool in Bremen.


Rosel George Brown's new hit novel, Sibyl Sue Blue, is much better than Lin Carter's book. You might want to get the taste out with it!




[August 12, 1966] Dr. Who And The Slightly Better Sequel (Daleks’ Invasion Earth: 2150 AD)


By Jessica Holmes

We’re between series of Doctor Who on the television, but you aren’t escaping my rambles that easily. 'Dr. Who' is back on the big screen, so I ventured to the cinema to see if Daleks’ Invasion Earth: 2150 AD is any good. Directed by Gordon Flemyng and written by Milton Subotsky, this film is a follow-up to last year’s Dr. Who And The Daleks. Like the first film, this is also based on a Doctor Who serial, that being The Dalek Invasion of Earth.

Poster for Daleks Invasion Earth: 2150 AD

To spare us all a lot of waffling, I’ll skip the play-by-play rundown. In broad strokes, it’s the same story. Dr. Who (Peter Cushing) in his Tardis goes to future London, finding it overrun by Daleks. He joins up with the human resistance, everyone goes to Bedford, the Daleks try to turn Earth into a spaceship by blowing up the core. Dr. Who hatches a plan to stop them doing that by deflecting the bomb, then boom! A volcano blows up, Daleks all die, Earth is free, Bedford gets a new tourist attraction, yada yada yada.

The plot is almost identical to the original serial. I did think for a moment about just copying my previous article and changing a few names, but it does have a few differences.

The Black Dalek no longer makes an appearance in the story, and nor does its pet, the slightly rubbish Slyther, but I didn’t particularly miss them. Most of the rebels have been condensed into one single character, Wyler (Andrew Keir), and many smaller, less important scenes have been removed to streamline the plot.

Most significant among these differences is that with Susan in this continuity being much younger than her television counterpart (with Roberta Tovey reprising her role), there is no romantic subplot.

Tom (Bernard Cribbins) in a darkened street. He is rubbing the back of his head, his mouth open.

Instead of Ian and Barbara we have a bumbling policeman called Tom (Bernard Cribbins) and the Doctor’s niece Louise (Jill Curzon). They do not have personalities. You can look at the plot outline of the original serial, scribble out each instance of ‘Ian’ and replace it with ‘Tom’, then do the same for Barbara/Louise, and you’ll get an impression of the impact these character changes have on the plot.

Actually, now I come to think of it, you also have to replace all of the cool things Barbara does in the original (like running over a Dalek with a truck) with blank space, and give all those cool deeds to whichever male character happens to be nearby at the time.

Louise (Jill Curzon) looks over her shoulder.

I think it would have strengthened the emotional core of the story to give Louise the romance plot (though I would also have issues with her only being in the plot for the purposes of providing a love interest). At least it would have given her something to do instead of being shunted about from one location to another in a state of total passivity. In the original, the romance subplot was a major component of giving the story emotional depth.

This film, however, is empty.

The characters might as well be cardboard cutouts, and though the film follows the plot of the serial, it’s devoid of the sense of horror and despair that the original had. In the original, it felt very much that the resistance was fighting a losing battle, one grounded in reality. They were tired, they had very little hope left.

Here? It’s all just set dressing. With characters so flat they vanish if you look at them sideways, I just don’t care what happens to them. Nobody forms any real bonds, so there’s no sense that anyone has anything personally to lose. None of the deaths land with an impact. I don’t feel like the characters care all that much, so why should I? The Daleks might as well just kill them all.

5 metallic blue Daleks in a ruined street at night.

The Daleks don’t even feel particularly Nazi-like as they did before. In the original, the resemblance was strong enough that it made the Daleks feel grounded in reality, and that much more threatening. This film feels a lot more light-hearted, so I suppose there is the silver lining that the plot to turn the planet into a (groan) spaceship doesn’t feel quite as silly compared to the rest of the story.

It’s just really hard to find things all that grim when every fight scene is accompanied by jaunty jazz numbers. There are some attempts at comedy, mostly revolving around Tom, particularly when he’s hiding on the Dalek ship. It might make a child laugh, but I wouldn’t count on it.

8 men in black latex overalls and helmets with visors sit on two rows of benches with their arms folded. Tom (front row, second from left) is asleep, leaning on his neighbour's shoulder.

The acting is decent enough, nothing glaringly bad, but nothing great either. Cushing is entirely wasted, having been given no real chance to show Dr. Who’s character. He exists purely to poke the plot with a stick from time to time to keep it moving. It’s all quite mechanical. Everyone’s competent, but nobody feels like a real person. In streamlining the plot, the writer has jettisoned a lot of scenes that gave the characters room to breathe.

In the end, there’s a load of pointlessly complicated nonsense about deflecting the core-destroying bomb to make a big explosion of magnetic energy that will pull the Daleks into Earth’s core. Apparently the confluence between the north and south magnetic poles is under Bedford. I am not going to even bother picking that apart. It makes no material difference. Honestly, I think it just confuses things. Stick with the volcano!

Still, it’s quite funny when the Daleks go flying through walls like something off Looney Tunes. I’ll give it that.

The Dalek spaceship crashes into the mine as fire spews from the mountain in the background.

With all this being said, would you believe me if I told you it’s better than Dr. Who And The Daleks? It’s perfectly watchable, if you’re looking for something to do for a little over an hour and have a handful of shillings to spare. I think kids would probably enjoy the adventure. There are plenty of exciting bits such as the chase out of London, and the art team did a great job on the special effects. I particularly liked the Daleks’ flying saucer, which is a wonderful model with moving parts. The eruption at the end isn’t bad, either.

So, what’s the verdict? Well, I wouldn’t rush back to the cinema to watch it again, but I don’t consider my afternoon entirely wasted. It’s a relatively decent but unremarkable science fiction adventure that in my opinion could have been so much more.

2.5 out of 5 stars




[August 10, 1966] Dollars and Cents (September 1966 Fantastic)


by Victoria Silverwolf

Render Unto Caesar

There's a new way to lose your money when visiting Las Vegas. A hotel, showroom, and casino called Caesars Palace (no apostrophe) opened a few days ago. As the name implies, it has an ancient Rome theme rather than the Western theme found in most gambling dens in Sin City.


A showgirl advertises the grand opening. I don't think that's an authentic costume of the time.

The inauguration ceremony is said to have cost one million dollars, including money spent on huge amounts of caviar, filet mignon, crabmeat, and champagne.


A page from a brochure advertising the place. Or possibly an illustration for a time travel story.

The Deuce Gets Loose

Speaking of losing money, today the United States Department of the Treasury announced that it would no longer print two-dollar bills. (The U.S. Mint hadn't actually printed any since June 30, but now they're going to stop completely.)


Thomas Jefferson looks glum about the situation. At least he'll still be on the nickel.

Two-dollar bills only make up a tiny percentage of the paper money in circulation. Some folks think they're unlucky. They're welcome to give any they don't want to me.

Wild Success

One thing you can do with a two-dollar bill is buy a couple of 45 rpm single records, and maybe even have a little change left over. A lot of people are shelling out a buck or so for the current Number One smash hit Wild Thing by the British band the Troggs. This raw, energetic tune was originally recorded last year by an American group called, appropriately enough, the Wild Ones, but failed to reach the charts.


It's the only rock 'n roll hit I can recall that features an extended ocarina solo.

You Pays Your Money And You Takes Your Choice

If you've only got fifty cents to your name, you can still purchase a copy of the current issue of Fantastic. That's less than one-third of a cent per page, so it sounds like a pretty good deal.

Of course, as my esteemed colleague John Boston recently pointed out, both Amazing and Fantastic are publishing lots of reprints without paying the authors. Whether you want to support these publications or boycott them is your choice. As for me, duty calls.


Cover art by Frank R. Paul.

Of course, the image on the front is also a reprint, and I doubt it was paid for either. In any case, it comes from the back cover of the April 1942 issue of Amazing Stories.


Here's the original painting, titled City of the Future. Looks a lot better this way, doesn't it?

For a Breath I Tarry, by Roger Zelazny

As the cover announces, here's the author's newest story.

Wait a minute! Haven't I read this before? Let me see, where could it have been?

Oh, yeah, it appeared in the March issue of New Worlds, and was reviewed by my esteemed colleague Mark Yon just a few months ago. I hope the author got paid twice.


Anonymous cover art.

I cannot hope to match the quality of this outstanding article. I will simply offer my own views, for whatever they might be worth.


Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

Long after humanity has disappeared, Earth is controlled by machines. Orbiting the planet is the supreme ruler, Solcom. Dwelling deep underground is a rival machine, named Divcom. (An allegory with God and the Devil seems intended, and some of the story reminds me of the Book of Job. However, the plot is completely original, and not merely a retelling of the Bible story.)

Solcom creates a machine to rule the northern hemisphere, calling it Frost. The ruler of the southern hemisphere is Beta. Frost makes a hobby of studying what little remains of humanity's relics. A machine named Mordel, in the service of Divcom, comes to Frost with a supply of ancient books. These excite Frost's curiosity, and it sets out on a quest to understand human emotions; in fact, to become a human being. Mordel offers Frost a deal. It will give Frost all the aid it requires to achieve this goal, but if Frost comes to realize that the task is impossible, it will have to serve Divcom forever.

(An allusion to the legend of Faust also seems intended. Note the similarity in names.)

Frost travels to the southern hemisphere, in order to witness one of the last places where people dwelled. This act is in defiance of Solcom's will, leading to a conflict between creator and created. (We are told that a temporary malfunction in Solcom's operation, at the time it made Frost, caused Frost to be unique among machines. Perhaps this is a form of original sin.)


What Frost wants to be.

I have barely touched the surface of a remarkable story. I haven't mentioned, for example, the giant ore-digging machine that carries the remains of the human being it accidentally killed within itself, causing all the machines it encounters to listen to its story. The fact that it bears parts of a dead human is enough to make other machines obey it, a subtle and important point. I also haven't talked about the role Beta plays in the plot. Go see for yourself.

Five stars.

"You Can't See Me!", by William F. Temple

If we allow the Zelazny tale to be considered new, our first reprint comes from the June 1951 issue of Fantastic Adventures.


Cover art by Walter H. Hinton.

A fellow discovers that the people around him are happily conversing with folks he can't see. At first, a few others witness the same peculiarity, assuming the chatterers are crazy. Soon everybody succumbs to the delusion, and only the protagonist doesn't have an imaginary companion.


Illustration by Gerald Hohns. I assume all the reprinted drawings failed to earn the artists any new money, just like the writers.

Of course, there's an explanation for this strange happening. It's a pretty weak one, unfortunately, and the story just kind of fizzles out toward the end. Although it's not really a comedy, the fact that the main character has the unlikely name Zechariah Zebedee Zyzincwicz, and that this unusual moniker is relevant to the plot, tells you that you shouldn't take it too seriously.

Two stars.

Carousel, by August Derleth

This chiller comes from the April 1945 issue of Fantastic Adventures.


Cover art by R. E. Epperley.

A little girl lives with her father and a wicked stepmother, straight out of a fairy tale. The evil woman is insanely jealous of the man's affection for his daughter, and would even be happy to see her dead.


Illustrations by Robert Fuqua.

A few years before the story begins, a mob lynched a carnival worker, leaving behind a wrecked merry-go-round. The child often goes to play in the ruins, claiming to be friends with a black man. The wicked stepmother takes advantage of the situation to make sure the girl is punished for her actions, whipping her severely. She follows her to the merry-go-round, hoping that the dangerous machinery will cause the child to suffer a fatal accident. (The implication that the woman intends to cause the accident is pretty clear.) Things don't work out the way she expects.


The haunted carousel.

As you can probably tell from this synopsis, there are no surprises at all in the plot. It's a pretty ordinary horror story, of the supernatural punishment variety. Although the murder of the carnival worker is obviously due to racial hatred, this isn't really relevant, which lessens the story's impact.

Three stars.

The Little People, by Eando Binder

This fantasy novella first appeared in the March 1940 issue of Fantastic Adventures.


Cover art by Robert Fuqua.

A scientist, his adult daughter, and her boyfriend are in a cabin somewhere in a remote area. The gruesome discovery of a cat with its throat cut is the first hint that something weird is going on. The next odd happening is the disappearance of a gold watch.

We find out right away that a community of fairies, or whatever you want to call them, is located nearby. One of them went into the cabin to steal the watch as a sign of bravery, in order to win the hand of the woman he loves, and had to kill the cat to escape.


Illustrations uncredited. They might be by Robert Fuqua again.

A rival for the fairy woman's affection tries to outdo the other by stealing a pair of binoculars. He gets caught by the scientist, who wants to exploit the little people as a scientific curiosity. The two young people are more sympathetic to their plight. The rival acts as a traitor to his kind, helping the scientist capture others.


Happier times, before the big people trap them.

The fairy man who stole the watch undertakes the dangerous task of rescuing his people from their captor, as well as defeating the treacherous rival.

I may as well mention here that Eando Binder is a pseudonym, used by brothers Earl (deceased) and Otto Binder. They're best known for a series of stories about the robot Adam Link. My sources tell me that this story is the work of Otto alone. In any case, it's not a bad fairy tale, if not outstanding in any way. Animal lovers should be warned that the cat is not the only creature to fall victim to the diminutive hero.

Three stars.

The Psionic Mousetrap, by Murray Leinster

The March 1955 issue of Amazing Stories is the source for this Cold War thriller.


Cover art by Edward Valigursky.

Our hero parachutes into the Soviet Union on a suicide mission. His grim task is to kill a kidnapped scientist before he can reveal the secrets of powerful psionic technology to the Reds.


Illustration by Paul Orban.

Things go badly right from the start. The hero winds up in the hands of the enemy. They force him to complete the work of the captured scientist, which turns out to be their undoing.

I didn't get much out of this spy yarn. The plot depends on the fact that the Commies are too materialistic to believe in psionics, which was a little hard to swallow. The story's conclusion strains credulity as well. You'd expect something like this in a mediocre issue of Astounding, given the fact that psionics is pretty much just another word for magic.

Two stars.

No More Tomorrows, by David H. Keller, M.D.

Here's a Kelleryarn (as they used to call the works of this author) from the December 1932 issue of Amazing Stories.


Cover art by Leo Morey.

The narrator develops a substance that destroys the part of the brain that allows one to imagine the future. He plans to sell the secret of this stuff to a trio of Soviet agents for a ton of money.


Illustration by Leo Morey also.

He rather stupidly whips up a vial of the substance, as well as a vial of plain water, in order to brag about his plot to the woman he wants to marry. (He figures that being a multimillionaire will win her hand.) Predictably, she winds up switching the two vials, so the narrator is hoist by his own petard.

This story has an intriguing premise, but it isn't developed very well. As I've indicated, the switching of the two vials requires that the narrator act like a complete fool. (There doesn't seem to be any reason at all to have a vial of water around.) The three Soviet agents are bizarrely deformed, as the illustration indicates. I guess the author really hates Communism, but this makes the whole thing seem ridiculous.

Two stars.

Rocket to Gehenna, by Doris Piserchia

At last! A story that hasn't appeared anywhere else. It's the author's first publication, too. It's a comic tale in the form of a series of letters. (A work of epistolary fiction, for those of you with highfalutin vocabularies.)

It seems that Earth sends the bodies of the deceased to the supposedly uninhabited planet Gehenna. It turns out that the place is occupied by a caterpillar-like alien and a very naïve human boy. Since they have the power to transport anything from one place to another, they start sending bodies back to Earth. The boy also captures a woman, because he thinks he needs a wife, although he doesn't even know the basic anatomical facts of life.

This is all very silly stuff. It's obviously trying to be a wacky farce, but I didn't find it very amusing. Let's hope the author does better work in the future.

One star.

Did You Get Your Money's Worth?

The Zelazny story, all by itself, is worth the four bits you'll pay for the magazine. The rest of it goes downhill at a rapid pace. If you have half a buck to spare, you might want to give it a try.


That isn't exactly what I had in mind.



A copy of Rosel George Brown's new hit novel, Sibyl Sue Blue, is worth every penny! Buy one today!




[August 8, 1966] A Leaden Kind of Fluff (Watchers of the Dark, by Lloyd Biggle, Jr.)


by John Boston

Watchers of the Dark, by Lloyd Biggle, Jr.

Lloyd Biggle’s Watchers of the Dark is a sequel to All the Colors of Darkness (1963), which I am sure I read when it came out but can’t remember a thing about.  That’s easier to understand after reading the new book.

Jan Darzek is a private detective in New York City in a future where people get around by means of matter transmitters.  He occupies himself with such challenges as a poison pen letter writer, a bookkeeping saboteur, and vending machine pirates.  He has a sixtyish secretary, Miss Schlupe, a/k/a Schluppy, who is known for such exploits as breaking bones, reads confession magazines for relaxation, and brews her own rhubarb beer, which makes repeated appearances in the story.


by Emanuel Schongut

A Mr. Smith, who is repeatedly described as reminiscent of a dead fish, tries to hire Darzek for a dangerous and time-consuming assignment that he won’t describe in advance.  Darzek doesn’t want the job and demands a million dollars in small bills as an initial payment, and shortly his office is full of cardboard boxes of money.  So it’s a contract!

It seems there is a galactic federation that keeps loose order in a galaxy heavily populated with sentient species, with unruly worlds like Earth excluded, i.e., “uncertified.” Someone or something called Supreme is in charge, and asked for Darzek by name.  For what?  To investigate the Dark—an unknown something that is taking over worlds in some unknown fashion and cutting them off from the usual galactic commerce.  All that is known is that the “natives”—Biggle’s word, throughout—become hostile to interstellar traders and riot and pillage, driving them off their planets.

Why hire a private eye from a world with no knowledge of the galactic civilization to investigate this threat to its existence?  It’s not explained, but before he can do anything, he and Schluppy have to go to school to learn multiple languages—“And manners and customs and finance and business and practical technology.” It’s hard to believe the galaxy doesn’t have a few good detectives, pre-acculturated and ready to go.

Once their lengthy schooling is complete, Darzek and Schluppy head off towards the Council of Supreme, unaccompanied.  Their contact, a textile merchant, doesn’t show up and turns up dead in space, showing that the Dark is on to them even if it hasn’t found them yet.  Darzek immediately finds the room from which the merchant was defenestrated, and his sample case.  They figure out how to transmit themselves to a hotel. 

Three creatures transmit into their room and try to kill them, using weapons we later learn are called Eyes of Death, but Darzek kills them by moving quickly and shooting them with his automatic, assisted by Miss Schlupe with her knitting needle.  Next, a member of the Council of Supreme, called EIGHT, shows up, and when he sees the carnage, says, “Now I understand why you were chosen.  Praise Supreme!”

This all takes us through a little more than a quarter of this moderately long (228 pages) book, but the landscape is plain enough, and it doesn’t get better.  It’s a sort of collage of cliches from 1950s-and-later SF, like a ransom note made with words clipped out of magazines: the galactic civilization governed by what amounts to a rudimentary quasi-monarchy, the mysterious menace, and the hyper-competent savior from Earth to set it all right.  There is the menagerie of funny-looking aliens, distinguished from one another only by their looks, increasingly cartoonish as the book progresses, and no match for the superior intellect and talents of the Earthman.  Indeed, it comes to resemble the familiar repertoire of Eric Frank Russell and Christopher Anvil: smart humans and dumb aliens, played for laughs, except that Biggle is even less funny than Anvil.  He’s clearly trying, at least occasionally, but he just doesn’t know how.  The book is impossible to take seriously and fails as farce.

This is not a terrible book.  Being terrible requires at least some distinctive character, and this has none.  It’s a species of determined mediocrity, reshuffling stock elements with a certain facility but with no value added in style, concept, or anything else.  Apparently the publishing strategy is a sort of arbitrage of boredom—as long as it is marginally more interesting than what is going on around the potential reader, it will sell.  I feel for anyone who is that bored.  One star.



Need something to take the taste out of your mouth? Pick up a copy of Rosel George Brown's new hit novel, Sibyl Sue Blue!