Category Archives: Science Fiction/Fantasy

[Dec. 22, 1965] Swann Lake (the 1965 Galactic Stars)


by Gideon Marcus

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Joyeux Noël

Another year has gone by, and what fun it has been to continue our annual tradition of offering up the very best science fiction.  This is the real payoff of the Journey, I think.  When we can take all of the year's harvest, throw it into the thresher and get rid of all the chaff.  What's left is nothing but good SF, from start to finish.

And what better time to offer this bounty than right before Christmas?  So grab yourself a mug of your favorite warm beverage (unless you're antipodal, in which case I recommend a Dacquiri, iced punch, or pop) and get ready to enjoy weeks' worth of fine entertainment — and learn why this edition of the Stars has its unusual title!


The 1965 Galactic Stars


——
Best Poetry
——

Nabodinus, by L. Sprague de Camp

There were very few poems to choose from this year, but this one, in which an archaeologist meets a ghostly colleague of ancient vintage, is good.

——
Best Vignette (1-9 pages):
——

Everyone's Home Town is Guernica, by Willard Marsh

In which a kitten becomes the emblem of a starving artist's soul.

Girl with Robot and Flowers, by Brian Aldss

A beautifully metatextual piece about the science fiction story creation process.

The Switch, by Calvin Demmon

Sometimes it's best to let sleeping professors lie!

Thelinde's Song, by Roger Zelazny

Do not speak the name of Jelerak, the young sorceress sings…

Honorable Mention:

The Walking Talking I-Don't-Care Man, by David R. Bunch

Eyes do More than See, by Isaac Asimov

In One Sad Day, by George Collyn

The Music Makers, by Langdon Jones

There were no 5-star vignettes this year, but many good ones for many different tastes spread across a wide number of magazines.

——
Best Short Story (10-19 pages):
——

"Repent, Harlequin!" said the Ticktockman , by Harlan Ellison

Time is not on your side…

Balanced Ecology , by James H. Schmitz

Conservationists take heart: sometimes the kids get a little help from their planet.

Over the River and Through the Woods , by Clifford D. Simak

The strange young visitors seem lost in the 19th Century, but they sure do feel like family.

Honorable Mention:

The Wall, by Josephine Saxton

The Liberators, by Lee Harding

Test in Orbit, by Ben Bova

Come to Venus Melancholy, by Thomas M. Disch

The Life of Your Time, by Michael Karageorge (Poul Anderson)

Traveller's Rest , by David Masson

Becalmed in Hell, by Larry Niven

Jabez O'Brien and Davy Jones' Locker , by Robert Arthur

Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, by Fredric Brown and Carl Onspaugh

Bright Eyes, by Harlan Ellison

Wrong-Way Street, by Larry Niven

The Sixth Palace, by Robert Silverberg

On the River , by Robert F. Young

Another torrent of short stories, and I didn't have the heart to prune it much since tastes vary so widely among the recommenders.  But all of them are good.  Sadly, you can really see the paucity of women-penned publications this year.

——
Best Novelette (20-45 pages)
——

No Different Flesh, by Zenna Henderson

A virtually unanimous Journey choice — the best story of The People yet (and that's saying something!)

Shall We Have a Little Talk?, by Robert Sheckley

Subjugating the natives starts with learning the language — lots of luck, pal!

The Overworld, by Jack Vance

To the ends of a Dying Earth in search of a dream-inducing artifact.

Honorable Mention:

Greenslaves, by Frank Herbert

Man in His Time, by Brian Aldiss

Four Ghosts in Hamlet, by Fritz Leiber

The Doors of His Face, the Lamps of His Mouth, by Roger Zelazny

Three to a Given Star, by Cordwainer Smith

Escape from the Evening, by Michael Moorcock

The winners are all veterans who burst on the scene ~1950, but the honorable mentions are split 50/50 with the subsequent wave.

——
Best Novella (46+ pages)
——

Vashti, by Thomas Burnett Swann

Of Xerxes' queen Vashti, and the Greek Ianiskos who follows her into exile…

Stardock, by Fritz Leiber

Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser brave the frozen wastes to find a treasure.

World of Ptavvs, by Larry Niven

To defeat a billion year old telepath, a Earthman must become the alien.

Honorable Mention:

On the Storm Planet, by Cordwainer Smith

The Saliva Tree, by Brian Aldiss

The Inner Wheel, by Keith Roberts

Mindswap, by Robert Sheckley

Lone Zone, by Charles Platt

This is always a tough category as many novellas are truncated novels (I understand an expanded Ptavvs will be released next year).  That said, Vashti was pretty universally praised. and it's hard to argue with Fahfrd and the Gray Mouser if you like fantasy…

——
Best Novel/Serial
——

…And Call me Conrad, by Roger Zelazny

Hemmingway-esque tale of an immortal fighting a guerrila war for the soul of a post-atomic humanity.

The Sundered Worlds, by Michael Moorcock

The psychic Renark to seek out the problem must go to the Sundered Worlds outside the normal rule of time and space to save humanity — and the whole of reality!

The Blue Monkeys, by Thomas Burnett Swann

Ajax against the Minotaur — another myth come to life by the inimitable Swann.

Honorable Mention:

Of Godlike Power, by Mack Reynolds

The Weirwoods, by Thomas Burnett Swann

The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch , by Phillip K. Dick

The Rithian Terror, by Damon Knight

The Ballad of Beta-2, by Samuel R. Delany

Dr. Bloodmoney, or How We Got Along After the Bomb , by Phillip K. Dick

Bill, the Galactic Hero , by Harry Harrison

Stormbringer, by Michael Moorcock

The Genocides, by Thomas M. Disch

The Squares of the City, by John Brunner

Swann is definitely a winner with his myth-inspired tales, Zelazny is hit or miss, but he hit it with Conrad, and Moorcock is a rising star to watch!

——
Science Fact
——

The Man who Discovered Atlantis, by Robert Silverberg

Paul Schliemann was so desperate to live up to the Schielmann name that he hoaxed finding the Lost Continent.

Death in the Laboratory, by Isaac Asimov

Fluorine is a killer…

The Land of Mu, by Isaac Asimov

The subatomic world keeps getting weirder and weirder.

Honorable Mention:

The Space Technology of a Track Meet , by Robert S. Richardson

With a Piece of Twisted Wire… , by Harry Harrison

The Harrison is from a fanzine, SF Horizons.  Silverberg makes his first appearance in this category this year, and Asimov is a perennial.  Richardson is always a highlight when he appears in Analog.

——
Best Magazine
——

New Writings in Science Fiction 3.25 stars, 2 Star nominees
F&SF 3.1 stars, 15 Star nominees
Fantasy 3.07 stars, 2 Star nominees
Worlds of Tomorrow 3.05 stars, 2 Star nominees
Science Fantasy 3.03 stars, 5 Star nominees
New Worlds 3.02 stars, 6 Star nominees
Galaxy 2.83 stars, 7 Star nominees
Analog 2.76 stars, 4 Star nominees
Amazing 2.61 stars, 2 Star nominees
IF 2.57 stars, 0 Star nominees
Gamma 1.7 stars, 0 Star nominees

F&SF shows strong now that Davidson is gone.  Sadly, this may be the last time we see Fantasy so high up with departure of Cele Lalli.  Amazing will suffer, too.  The British magazines are all mid-to-upper tier this year while Pohl's triplets are dependable if not extraordinary.

And then there's Gamma, which blessedly ended its short run this year.

——
Best author(s)
——

Thomas Burnett Swann

Turning fable into fantasy, Swann has definitely made his biggest impact so far this year.  Runners up for best author include Roger Zelazny, Phillip K. Dick, and Larry Niven.

——
Best Artist
——

John Schoenherr

John Schoenherr continues to impress with his starkly beautiful work, singlehandedly elevating the otherwise mediocre Dune.  This is another unanimous Journey decision.

Honorable Mention:

Gray Morrow

Kelly Freas

Richard Powers

Johnny Bruck

——
Best Dramatic Presentation
——

Alphaville

A spy thriller set in the galactic capital.

Doctor Who

Maybe it's just Jessica's reviews that sell it, but I'm enjoying what I get to see of this show.

Honorable Mention:

The 10th Victim

Incubus (starring William Shatner and entirely in Esperanto!)

Repulsion

Out of the Unknown

The Saragossa Manuscript

and, of course,

The Journey Show.  The best fifteen hours in science fiction television, I think!  I hope it gets the nod for a Hugo next year…

——
Best Fanzine
——

Zenith

A nice mix of articles and stories by pros, semi-pros, and fen.

Honorable Mention:

Amra

Tolkien Journal

Vector

And, of course, three time Hugo Finalist Galactic Journey. Perhaps this will be the year we finally appear on the official ballot.  With your help, anything is possible…


That's a wrap!  All in all, I think 1965 was not quite as strong as last year, and the dearth of women is really quite alarming.  I'd like to think this is a statistical blip, like the solar 11 year cycle, and that things will improve from here on out.

In any event, even a weak year yields a lot of stuff that breaks the Sturgeon barrier.  As you catch up on your back reading, do feel free to drop us a line and tell us what you think of each piece.  It's the community that really makes the Journey (and the Stars) shine!





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


by Gideon Marcus

Blitzkrieg

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

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

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

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

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

Sitzkrieg

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


by Jack Gaughan

L'Arc De Jeanne, by Robert F. Young

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

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

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

Three stars.


by Gahan Wilson

Beaulieu, by Margaret St. Clair

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

A nice psychological piece.  Three stars.

Books, by Judith Merril

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

To the Rescue, by Ron Goulart

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

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

Two stars.

The Most Wonderful News, by Len Guttridge

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

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

Smog, by Theodore L. Thomas

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

So two stars, and learn some chemistry, Ted.

Survey of the Third Planet, by Keith Roberts

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

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

Two stars.

The Proton-Reckoner, by Isaac Asimov

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

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

Four stars.

Representative From Earth, by Gregory Benford

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

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

Two stars.

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

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

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

Two stars.

Casualties of War

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

After all — one battle does not a war make!



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[December 16, 1965] Two Creepy Terrors (Die Monster Die! and Planet of the Vampires)


By Jason Sacks

Last weekend I took my girlfriend down to our local drive-in theatre, the good ol' Puget Park Drive-in, to catch a delightfully moody double feature of sci fi scares. Die, Monster, Die and Planet of the Vampires are perfect drive-in fodder. Both films offer atmospheric adventures accentuated with dread and tension, presented in vivid color that adds to the fear created in each scene. We were surprised by how much we enjoyed both of these flicks and I hope I can persuade you to catch them when they come to your town.

The Puget Park Drive-in. It doesn't look like much, but it's brought plenty of thrills over the last few years.

Die Monster Die!

The first movie on our double bill was Die Monster Die! This flick, released by our good friends at American International Pictures, is apparently a loose adaptation of the H.P. Lovecraft story "The Color Out of Space" and co- stars a cadaverous Boris Karloff along with Nick Adams and Suzan Farmer in a thoroughly entertaining, moody tale that has some powerful moments influenced by the horror master of Arkham, Massachusetts.

When American Stephen Reinhart (Adams) travels to Arkham, England to visit his fiancée Susan Witley at her family's strange mansion, he clearly has no idea the kind of bizarre adventure he will find there. From the moment Reinhart leaves the train, he meets surprising resistance to his getting to the Witley home. A taxi driver refuses to take his fare, a bike shop owner refuses to rent him a bike, and Reinhart is snubbed by villagers for even suggesting he wants to travel to visit his fiancée's family. The countryside around Arkham is scorched with a deep crater, and it's pretty clear the crater has left scars in the villagers' minds along with their town. Is the crater related to the fear of the pariah Witley family? As we'll soon discover, there is ample reason for the villagers' fears.

Stephen marches to the Whitley mansion on foot. When the intrepid American finally arrives at the house, he begins to understand why the villagers think him crazy for wanting to spend time there. The once-stately home has fallen into a state of deep disrepair. Its gate is rusted, plants grow wild in the yard, and the whole place seems to need a new coat of paint. This slow unfolding of deepening confusion transitions the viewer into a sense of dread about what Stephen will find at the house, and makes the viewer concerned about the people living there.

Meandering quietly into the house, Reinhart nearly stumbles over the wheelchair-bound patriarch Nahum Witley (Karloff), who tries desperately to frighten our American hero away. Karloff is wonderful here, with a deep sense of gravitas, but he also carries some real sadness, as his advanced age and significant medical problems are clearly on display. Nahum keeps his reasons vague, but his words make it clear that there are true horrors there, including dread creatures that imperil everyone.  Just as it seems Nahum is ready to literally push Stephen out of his house, his lovely daughter intervenes. Susan Witley (Farmer) is the opposite of her father: welcoming, kind and optimistic.

It's obvious from the first moment we meet Susan that she and Stephen will soon find themselves in opposition to Nahum. Less obvious is the looming presence of Susan's mother Letitia (Freda Jackson), a woman seemingly at death's door who speaks to Stephen in foreboding murmurs about meteors and monsters, bewildering descriptions of seemingly indescribable objects and events that leave our hero deeply confused. Letitia's body also appears to be rotting away, and perhaps Stephen wonders if her mind is rotting as well. To  show her physical rot, we get a few weird glimpses of Letitia's body, including a hand that seems to lose its flesh the longer we watch it.

Good ol' Boris Karloff, trying to scare Stephen away from his house. Run away, Stephen!

The movie cuts from Letitia to Nahum and his trusty aide Merwyn (Terence De Marney) as they wander into the basement of the mansion — and it is in this scene that the horror starts to become clear. Amidst smart set decorations of distended faces and glowing neon colors, it's clear that Nahum and Merwyn have a deep and dreadful secret, tied to the strange glowing thing locked in that basement, the thing that alternately scares and interests Nahum.

From there, the movie begins to really take off into its own creepy territory, a smart mix of Lovecraft with the darkest work of Edgar Allan Poe along with a few AIP stylistic flares. If you've seen the trailer for Die Monster Die!, you've seen the wonderfully strange monster below which indeed seems to come right from the typewriter of the great Mr. Lovecraft.

This definitely looks like something out of Lovecraft

I was legitimately creeped out by that otherworldly monstrosity and the eerie keening noise it made. As the secrets of Nahum's home become more and more evident, this monster proves to be just one of the many horrors living there. We encounter living plants, see a shockingly dark end to Letitia's life and eventually get another chance to see the great Mr. Karloff made up to be a frightening killer. By the time we witness a strongly Poe-influenced ending to the film, viewers have witnessed some real strangeness on screen.

My girlfriend and I both really enjoyed this flick. Karloff is at his classic best here, providing his character with real depth and pathos. Despite his obvious illnesses, Karloff frankly thoroughly out-acts his counterparts on the screen. Adams and Farmer are an attractive couple, but they are two-dimensional. We learn little or nothing about either one of them, and Stephen mostly exists in this film as a plot device rather than a real character. Similarly, Susan was a character with great potential as a woman with one foot in the supernatural world and the other in our human world, but she is never given much to do beyond being Stephen's sidekick.

Karloff showing his inner glow

I also would have loved to see more about the villagers' fears, and explore the meteor's impact more, but all of my complaints about depth are kind of moot here. As the front half of a double-bill, Die Monster Die! had to be about an hour and fifteen minutes long. And as a movie of that length, it triumphs. The photography is excellent, Karloff is loads of fun, and the monsters are spooky.

Planet of the Vampires

After grabbing some popcorn and jujubes, we got back in the front seat of my Mustang for the second film of the evening. Planet of the Vampires was the perfect film companion to Die Monster Die. Both movies are spooky, atmospheric tales with lovely colors and intriguing acting.

Nothing on this poster matches the movie but I didn't mind!

In fact, most everything I enjoyed about Die Monster Die! is done even better in Planet of the Vampires. The great Italian director  Mario Bava (maybe best known in the US for his brilliant and terrifying debut film Black Sunday) journeys into space to deliver one of the most deeply upsetting movies I've seen in a while.

Two ships, the Argos and the Galliot, are exploring deep space together. When the rockets receive a distress signal from a nearby planet, they must land on that planet to investigate. On the way down to the planet, the ships' crews begin to go crazy, as if possessed by an alien force, and try to kill each other. The captain of the Argos, Captain Markary (Barry Sullivan), keeps his wits about himself and is able to force sanity and stop the fighting on his ship. The other ship… well, we shall soon see their fate.

The Argos lands on a strange planet. Dig that colorful sky!

Both ships land on the surface of the planet, and what a strange surface it is. Eternally shrouded in fog, with glowing rocks and mysterious sounds, the planet seems wrapped in deep mystery, and as the crew investigates the planet and the fate of the Galliot, terrible horrors begin to bedevil both crews in their ships and on the planet itself. We soon discover the bodies of the Galliot's crew, shredded and bloodied. But despite their seemingly life threatening damage, the bodies rise again and begin walking around. The bodies even go outside the spaceship and spread their terror to both crews.

Bava does a brilliant job with many elements of this movie, elements which add smartly to the viewer's deep feeling of disquiet. The astronauts' uniforms are beautiful. The cast wears well-fitting leather jumpsuits with high collars that seem practical but also strange. The cockpits of the ships are surprisingly spacious, with a lot of open space on them, which gives a strange sense of alienness to anyone used to cramped rocket capsules. The film is also deeply, eerily quiet, with just a few electronic noises to accentuate the horror. The deep silence seems to accentuate the tension, making viewers feel a deep sense of unease.

I think these uniforms are about the most beautiful in sci fi.
There's one sequence in which Bava's artistry really shines. In one intriguing set-piece, Captain Markary and his right-hand assistant Sanya (Norma Bengell) discover an enormous spacecraft which appears to have been trapped on the planet for seemingly thousands of years. Bava does brilliant work with perspective in these scenes, emphasizing the miniscule size of the humans in the midst of this bizarre alien craft. And as befits a master of horror films, Bava presents the craft as looking incredibly strange and dislocating for both the viewers and the crew.  It's old and looks decayed, with paint peeling and nature taking over the edges of the ship. Their exploration leads to a fascinating deathtrap unlike any I've seen before in film. It also makes the viewer wonder, profoundly, that if creatures this large can be killed by the residents of this planet, what chance do humans have?
The giant alien on the strange abandoned ship

The creatures on this planet aren't vampires in our usual sense of the word (perhaps they're energy vampires or body possessors or something else slightly ineffable). But that lack of definition makes the creatures more frightening. These vampires are a constant, eerie threat that both viewers and crew can't quite understand. We all know a cross and stake will kill Dracula, but we have no idea how to kill these vampires. That uncertainty makes the film more frightening. There seems to be no easy way out, and the ending helps reinforce that concept.

In fact, Bava and his crew also do something delightful in this movie: they deliver a twist ending, then another twist, and then yet another twist.  Each of the twists feel earned because they are well foreshadowed and yet completely surprising. I want you to be surprised, too, so I won't ruin the fun. I will say this, though. For my money the best twists are the ones that leave the viewers giggling, and my girlfriend and I laughed our heads off at the twists.

The alien planet looks spookier because of all the fog

It seems the budget for this movie was incredibly small (a piece in last month's Famous Monsters reports it cost roughly $200,000 in American dollars to film this movie in Italy). It's intriguing how director Bava worked with his international cast. There are actors from Brazil, Italy, the US and Spain, and each spoke their native languages on set. Bava's team then dubbed their lines in the local language for prints distributed around the world. Brazilians heard Portuguese, Spaniards hear the movie in Spanish and Americans in English. Because everyone spoke a different language on set, the movie has an often dreamlike feel, as if the actors are speaking around each other. That feel helps give this film its unique and wonderful energy.

And though Bava didn't spend a lot on the sets or ships, he gets real value for his lira. Maybe it's the eternal fog that makes the planet surface so compelling, or maybe the colored lights, but the planet of the vampires looked way better than it should have. I felt pulled into the mystery of this movie because of its low budget. Now I want to see more Bava films!

Driving Home
On our way to her home from the drive-in, my girlfriend and I couldn't stop laughing about all the fun we had watching these movies. There's a certain thrill to finding out a movie is way better than you expect it to be. In fact, we had that excitement with both movies last weekend and I think you will, too.

I don't care how popular they are. I love my Mustang!

Hop in your Chev, Plymouth or Pontiac and catch these flicks at your local drive-in while you still can.






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


by Victoria Silverwolf

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

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

(Cue eerie theremin music.)

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

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


Isn't this the way The Blob started?

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

Another Song of Solomon?

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

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


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

What Do You Expect For Four Bits?

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


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


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

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


Cover art by Barye Phillips and Leo Summers.

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


Illustrations by Virgil Finlay.

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


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

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


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

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

Three stars.

Wonder Child, by Joseph Shallit


Cover art by Robert Frankenberg.

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


Illustrations by Ed Emshwiller (better known as Emsh.)

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


He also develops a precocious interest in sex.

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

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

Two stars.

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

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


Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

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

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


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

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


There's also a big guy.

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

Three stars.

What a Man Believes, by Robert Sheckley


Cover art by Vernon Kramer.

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


Illustrations by Henry C. Pitz.

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


He can also climb a mountain.

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

Two stars.

Three Wishes, by Poul Anderson


Wraparound cover art by Richard Powers.

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


Illustration by Dick Francis.

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

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

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

Two stars.

Phoney Meteor, by John Beynon


Cover art by J. Allen St. John.

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


Illustration by Jay Jackson.

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

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

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

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

Two stars.

Did It Meet Your Expectations?

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


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






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[December 12, 1965] Something Old, something New (The Bishop's Wife and A Charlie Brown Christmas


by Janice L. Newman

TV Christmas

The holidays are here! In other times and places, people gather or huddle around a bright, crackling fire, drinking hot cider and pressing close to keep out winter’s chill. In the Traveler’s house, here in Southern California in the year of 1965, we gather around a bright, staticky TV screen, watching movies and sipping Ovaltine as the Santa Ana winds bluster outside our windows.

And that is how we came to see a pair of Christmas-themed features on our small screen in the first half of December.

Devil or Angel

The first of our ad hoc double feature was The Bishop’s Wife, which my mom saw in the theater back in 1947, but which I’d skipped, thinking the movie might have an overly-religious tone. By the time I learned otherwise, the holidays were over and the movie was long gone. So when I saw in the TV Guide that it would be airing this season, I made sure to write it down on our family calendar.

The movie turned out to be surprising. Henry Brougham, an Episcopalian Bishop (David Niven), has become so obsessed with raising money to build a new cathedral that it’s left him out of touch with the things that really matter. He prays for guidance, and receives an answer in the form of one ‘Dudley’ (Cary Grant), who claims he was sent to help him. Rather than helping him coax the rich and powerful to open their purses, though, Dudley seems to spend most of his time with the Bishop’s wife (Loretta Young), taking her out to lunch, going skating with her, and making her smile even as her husband grows more and more frustrated and jealous.

It doesn’t sound much like a Christmas movie, does it? A story that revolves around an unhappy marriage, with a husband who thinks he’s being cuckolded (in a strictly emotional sense) by an angel doesn’t sound like family fare, let alone holiday material.

Yet, it was refreshing to have a holiday story that wasn’t cloying or heavy-handedly religious. Despite the title and the inescapable religious themes, Dudley comes across as something not quite like the traditional idea of an ‘angel’. He’s inarguably supernatural, but whether he’s actually angelic is questionable: at one point he suggests that he’s an alien from another planet, at another Henry tells him that he thinks he’s a demon, not an angel. It wouldn’t have been difficult to give the story a science fiction spin, making Dudley a man with telekinetic/telepathic powers and a delusion.

Not only that, but there is a startling element to Dudley’s character that suggests that angels – or whatever Dudley is – aren’t so far from humans as we might like to pretend.

While I don’t know that I would make this a staple of my holiday watching year after year, the bittersweet tale was both interesting and thought-provoking, though perhaps not in the way the author intended. It’s not perfect. The bishop is unlikeable enough and his wife’s character is flat enough to make their inevitable reconciliation not particularly satisfying. But Grant’s performance as Dudley is so compelling that it raises the story from mundanity to something worth watching. I give the movie three out of five stars.

Good Grief

The second program was a brand new one, though it was based on something that most people will likely be familiar with: the ‘Peanuts’ comic strip. A Charlie Brown Christmas premiered on December 9th, and we were there, gathered around the television to watch it.

If The Bishop’s Wife was surprising and refreshing, A Charlie Brown Christmas was distressing and disappointing. Perhaps I should have expected it; after all, the comic strip often features the characters treating each other with sarcasm, irritation, and even outright disgust.

Most of the ‘story’ was made up of a series of these strips, but animated. The anger and exasperation from the comic was carried onto the screen, with lines like, "Boy, are you stupid, Charlie Brown!," going from merely unpleasant to stomach-churning when voiced by what sounded like actual children.

The message of the short film – that Christmas is becoming over-commercialized and in order to get back the joy we’ve lost we need to remember the ‘true meaning’ of the holiday – was delivered with such a heavy hand that I felt bruised afterward. The self-righteous religiosity I’d skipped The Bishop’s Wife to avoid all seems to have ended up in this movie instead. And despite how mean the characters are throughout the story, the ending was cloying enough that I wanted to brush my teeth as the credits rolled.

However, the show did have three redeeming things that kept it from being unmitigatedly awful.

The first was Snoopy. The cheerful canine brightened the screen every moment he was on it. His antics ranged from decorating his dog house to try to win a neighborhood prize, to dancing on Schroeder’s piano, to hilariously imitating Lucy. Even his unrestrained joy was dampened by the other characters’ angry reactions to him, though.

The second was the music. One of the pieces was a particularly catchy, almost contrapuntal song played on the piano. With its quick tempo and memorable repeating throughline, I still have it stuck in my head! The rest of the music was pretty good, too. They clearly hired talented composers and musicians, and it showed.

The third is a little hard to describe. In the beginning of the story, Charlie Brown expresses something I think all adults have felt in their lives at one point or another: a feeling of being sad at Christmas, of not feeling how he’s ‘supposed’ to feel:

…I'm getting presents, and I'm sending Christmas cards, and decorating all the trees and all that, but I'm still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed.

It’s a powerful sentiment. If it had been treated with a lighter touch, it could have made for a moving story: one that acknowledged the fact that the holidays can be a difficult and painful time for many of us, and in doing so, helped people recognize that their feelings were normal and they weren’t alone.

Of course, setting the tone for the entire show, Linus reacts to Charlie Brown’s feelings by yelling at him:

Charlie Brown, you're the only person I know who can take a wonderful season like Christmas and turn it into a problem. Maybe Lucy's right. Of all the Charlie Browns in the world, you're the Charlie Browniest!


"Just take a Miltown, stupid."

Like The Bishop’s Wife, A Charlie Brown Christmas doesn’t fit my idea of a Christmas movie. I’m not planning on circling it in the TV guide to re-watch if it airs again. But if they release one, I might just pick up the single of that catchy tune.

Two stars: one for Snoopy, and one for the music.






[December 10, 1965] For the People, By the People The Makepeace Experiment, by Andrei Sinyavsky


by Margarita Mospanova

Long time no read, dear readers!

My dearly beloved, but monumentally aggravating home country has once again done what it has been doing since its unfortunate conception — the USSR has arrested another pair of writers that happened to disagree with some of its tenets. The court has yet to pass judgement but there is very little doubt the case will not go in favor of the accused, even despite the very public demonstration in Moscow in their defense on December 5.

Andrei Sinyavsky

Andrei Sinyavsky, who some of you might know under the name of Abram Tertz, is a prolific Russian writer and literary critic. He has published some of his works in the West due to their… stylistic differences compared to the usual sort of literature permitted in the USSR.

The demonstration in support of Andrei Sinyavsky and Yuli Daniel

As such, I thought it would be appropriate to review one of his fantastical novellas.

Lyubimov or The Makepeace Experiment is an allegorical story about Leonid Tikhomirov (Lenny Makepeace) and a small town of Lyubimov. Lenny starts out as a simple bicycle repairman who falls in love with a new school teacher in town, Serafima. Serafima spurns his affection, saying he is too unambitious and unimportant for her. In despair, Lenny ransacks the local library, trying to find a way to improve himself, until he comes across an old tome containing the secret to mind control.

Yes, dear readers. Mind control. I was surprised, too.

Armed with that new power, he gains control over Lyubimov, forces Serafima to marry him, and attempts to create a veritable communist utopia in his town while cutting all ties to the USSR. Spoiler: he fails. And fails spectacularly.

So does the Soviet military while trying to retake the town, but at least that is expected in a story like this.

The novella, while absurdist, is also a political satire and commentary on human nature, rational versus irrational, and the dangers of the cult of personality. Unsurprisingly, it’s one of the reasons for the author’s arrest.

While the protagonist of Lyubimov is undoubtedly Lenny, the story is told to us by the town’s librarian (who becomes Lenny’s assistant) and commented upon by the librarian’s ancestor (a disembodied ghost who sometimes hijacks the narrative completely) through rather amusing footnotes. In the beginning the humor had me in stitches, even reminding me of Gogol sometimes. Sharp, cutting, and borderline sarcastic, it added richness to an otherwise not particularly compelling plot. Unfortunately, the farther in we got, the more jumbled the text itself became. It might have been on purpose, but it was hard to tell.

Still, the footnotes where the narrator argues with his ancestor about how to start the story or the scenes where Lenny makes the whole town see mineral water as pure alcohol or toothpaste as vobla paste were pretty funny. So was the way the Soviet military attempted to disguise itself to get into Lyubimov.

Vobla. For those of you who have no idea what vobla paste is.

It is a pity that most of the humor was lost in translation, as far as I could tell. The style of the original text was incredibly informal, almost folksy, which added to the absurdism of the whole mind controlled utopia situation, but I saw practically none of that in the translated version. That is not to say that the translation is bad, exactly. It is functional. However, it could be better.

The same could be said about the story itself. It could be better. As I said earlier, it started off well enough. But by the time the plot got to the middle of the book it was so meandering and vague it was hard to pay attention to the characters. The abundance of metaphors and allegories did not help matters.

The core ideas do still come through loud and clear, but I would have preferred them to be adorned in something I didn’t need to muddle through on the way over. By the end of the book I was actually looking to when I could turn the last page and finally say goodbye to it. It is certainly not something I would ever pick up on a whim to reread. Which is, again, a pity, since the first few chapters were incredibly enjoyable.

Another thing that made me grimace with disappointment was female characters. The novella has only three types: superstitious old women, harlots, or stupid peasants. Not the best combination at the best of times. Even Serafima, Lenny’s wife, is depicted as a harlot who our main hero is trying to mold into a respectable woman. Watching him get jealous over Serafima’s past lovers was not pleasant. Or, really, all that necessary to the plot or the characters’ development, now that I think about it.

That is not to say that the male characters are all the shining examples of intellect and nobility, but they are all somewhat sympathetic. The narrator is probably the only one that can be categorized as a good man. But at least the men are not cardboard cutouts of the worst stereotypes in literature.

So, to summarize. Does the book work as intended political satire? Yes. Do I recommend it to those interested in the subject? Yes. Do I recommend it to anyone just looking to have a good time? A definite no.

Additional warning for an extremely non consensual nature of the relationship between Lenny and Serafima which includes some very degrading and upsetting scenes. Mind control is not a healthy basis for a successful marriage; please remember that, folks.

I give Lyubimov a very generous two red stars.






[December 6, 1965] Are You Sitting Comfortably? Then I'll Begin (Doctor Who: The Daleks’ Master Plan [Part 1])


By Jessica Holmes

Buckle up, everyone. We’re about to start the longest serial of Doctor Who yet. I hope you’ve got a comfy chair and a pot of tea.

Bret Vyon

THE NIGHTMARE BEGINS

Poor Steven isn’t feeling too well since his run in with the sharp end of a poisoned sword, so the Doctor leaves him in the care of Katarina while he goes to search for an antitoxin.

Wait, no, apparently we’re not following that, we’re following two blokes called Bret and Kert, who are sitting in a rainforest and trying to contact their superiors.

Nope, no, we’re actually watching a couple of nameless bald men doing… something or other. To be more accurate, we’re watching a couple of people watching the bald men and having a nice chat rather than paying attention to the call coming in. It seems that the men we just saw were from the Space Security Service that those men were from in that one-off episode a few weeks ago, come to search for their long-dead comrades.

Mavic Chen

The fate of the universe can wait though, because the people in the control room are busy watching a television interview with a man with very silly eyebrows. This is Mavic Chen, and he’ll be important later. From the name and the lousy makeup, I think he’s meant to be Chinese. The makeup’s distracting and more importantly, racist. There’s no excuse for this sort of thing, common as it may be. At least they had the good sense not to give him a ridiculous fake accent.

Chen’s banging on about how the solar system has enjoyed tranquility in recent years, promising that they can look forward to an everlasting period of peace and prosperity that will spread throughout the universe and it’ll be sunshine, lollipops, rainbows, et cetera. Laying on the dramatic irony pretty thick, aren’t we?

In the jungles of the planet Kembel, the two men begin to fear that something’s following them. I will give you three guesses what that something could possibly be.

A Dalek looms over Kert.

Surprise! It’s a Dalek.

Injured, Kert tells Bret to go on without him, and he bravely goes to face the Daleks — who promptly shoot him dead.

Bret flees through the forest, tripping over his own feet and dropping the transmitter, breaking it. Well, it’s not very well made if it broke that easily. He should get his money back. He’s on the brink of despair when the TARDIS materialises close by.

The Doctor and Katarina emerge, and the Doctor sends Katarina back inside to look after Steven while he searches for some antitoxin. Finding the door locked, Bret follows after the Doctor, and orders him at gunpoint to hand over the key.

The Doctor stares down the barrel of a gun.

Inside the TARDIS, Katarina tends to Steven, still under the impression that she’s dead and travelling through the underworld. Bret enters the TARDIS, and Katarina, bless her, thinks he’s come to help, and he tricks her into locking the Doctor out of the TARDIS.

However, he doesn’t get away with it for long, because like an absolute numpty he left the key in the door and didn’t pay enough attention to Steven, who whacks him over the back of the head when he’s not looking.

Bret doesn’t strike me as one of the SSS’ best operatives. James Bond, he is not.

As the Doctor lets himself back into the TARDIS, a spaceship passes overhead, and at the Dalek base the Daleks prepare to receive guests.

Bret is restrained in a chair.

The Doctor restrains Bret in the TARDIS with a ‘magic chair’ (magnetic), but the cross-examination will have to wait, because he still needs to look for the city he spotted in his earlier foray into the forest. He narrowly misses a Varga plant as he explores and soon comes upon the skeletal remains of Corey, his tape recording lying just a few feet away from him.

He collects the tape and proceeds to the city, where he realises to his horror who the occupants are.

Back in the TARDIS, Bret inquires as to what’s wrong with Steven. When Katarina explains he has poison in his blood, Bret actually makes himself useful and offers her the use of some tablets he has to hand. Katarina decides to trust him and gives Steven the medicine. Let’s just hope it doesn’t backfire.

As the Daleks greet their guest and newest ally, Mavic Chen, the Doctor hurries back to his ship, only to find the door open and a gang of Daleks surrounding the box.

Uh-oh.

Two Daleks sit outside the TARDIS.

DAY OF ARMAGEDDON

Hiding in the bushes, the Doctor watches from a distance as the Daleks examine his ship. They speak of something called Operation Inferno, which will require them to retreat to a safe distance.

Meanwhile, Mavic Chen makes a friend. Say hello to Zephon, the master of the Fifth Galaxy.

Zephon

Zephon expresses surprise that Chen, being from our solar system (Why is our solar system THE Solar System? Surely any system with a star and things orbiting that star is a solar system, isn’t it? Why do we qualify for the definite article?) is allying himself with the Daleks. Well, being in charge of one star system is nice enough, but Chen has greater ambitions.

The Daleks are all too aware of Chen’s ambitions, which is why they’re planning to exterminate him and all their other accomplices when they’ve outlived their usefulness. That sounds very in-character for them, but I don't know how pragmatic it would be, considering that the galaxies the leaders represent would likely consider the Daleks' actions to be an act of war and retaliate in kind.

Stephen lies in the forest with the Doctor and Katarina kneeling beside him.

Stephen wakes up in the forest feeling very confused, but looking a tad healthier. The tablets seem to have worked. He has Bret and Katarina to thank. When the Daleks came, Bret convinced Katarina to release him so that they could all escape. The Doctor finds the group, and Katarina fills him in on what happened while Bret spies on the Daleks, who have flamethrowers now.

The Doctor and Katarina help Steven limp back towards the TARDIS before the flames reach them (wait, I thought it was his shoulder that was hurt, not his leg?), but Bret points out that it’s probably a trap. I suppose they’ll have to just stay put and roast then.

Stephen and the Doctor start bickering over what to do until Bret interrupts and tells them essentially to shut up, leaving the Doctor speechless for once in his life. He recovers quickly.

Daleks use flamethrowers to burn vegetation.

The Daleks get to work burning the forest. I obviously need more sleep because for a moment I thought they were toasting marshmallows on the fire. In my defence, the Dalek flamethrowers are shaped just like a marshmallow on a stick.

The fire slowly catches up to the gang as the Doctor and Bret have another bickering match, and the Doctor finally comes up with a third option: hide in the Dalek city. It’s the last place they’ll expect!

Chen has a chat with Zephon before the gathering of PT Barnum’s freakshow rejects comes to order, with Zephon waiting outside a while, for plot convenience’s sake I presume.

4 humanoid aliens approach a table with a Dalek waiting to greet them.

The Doctor and company arrive at the Dalek city and admire the pretty shiny spaceships, at least until Bret recognises Mavic Chen’s. He's deeply troubled, but the others see their getaway vehicle: they decide to steal it.

Along comes Zephon, and they run for cover. Come to think of it, I suspect that he might walk like that because the chap in the costume can’t actually see where he’s going. Bret subdues him, and the Doctor steals his clothes so that he can disguise himself and sneak into the meeting. I’m in awe at the sheer audacity of the plan. He gives Bret the tape for safekeeping before he goes, and even Bret, who doesn’t particularly get along with the Doctor, is impressed with his courage.

While the others go to steal the ship, the Doctor arrives fashionably late to the meeting. He learns that the Daleks have almost completed something called a Time Destructor, which needs only a core and it’ll be ready to use. Mavic Chen smugly presents the core, an emm of pure Taranium, the rarest substance in the universe.

Mavic Chen holds the Taranium core.

Outside, Zephon wakes up and begins to struggle against his restraints as the others barge onto Chen’s ship and start tying up the crew.

All seems to be going well, until Zephon manages to set off an alarm. It might be a blessing in disguise however, as in all the pandemonium the Doctor is able to swipe the Taranium core from under Mavic Chen’s nose.

He’ll have to hurry, though. Bret’s about to take off– and he’s not planning to wait for stragglers.

Bret leans over a control panel, as Katarina pleads with him.

DEVIL’S PLANET

The Doctor shows up in the nick of time, and off they go, fleeing the Daleks. The Daleks don’t fail to notice them going, but refrain from blowing the ship out of the sky. They’ve realised that the Taranium core is missing, and they need to get it back.

Chen’s all too happy to throw Zephon under the bus for the loss of the core. Sure, it was Chen who went and left it unattended on the table, but the Daleks see fit to blame Zephon, as it was his lateness to the meeting that allowed the Doctor to infiltrate it and steal the core. The Daleks find him guilty of negligence, and execute him for his failure.

Born diplomats, the Daleks are. Really this should start a war but apparently Zephon's galaxy won't mind their leader being murdered.

Bret, the Doctor, Katarina and Stephen look at the Taranium core.

On the ship, the Doctor’s coming to like having Katarina around. She learns by watching and listening, sparing him from constant questions. He’s eager to teach her though, and I find his enthusiasm endearing.

They finally get around to playing the tape, which doesn’t really tell them anything new but will come in handy when urging Earth to take action, and the Doctor proclaims that “The Daleks will stop at anything to prevent us!”

Well, if that’s the case, all you have to do is mildly inconvenience them and they’ll leave you alone. I’m well used to Hartnell’s line flubs by now, but that one did amuse me.

The Daleks make their move as the ship passes by a prison planet, Desperus, an entire world used for dumping convicts. Basically, it’s Space Australia. Sorry, Kaye. I couldn’t resist.

Then the Daleks force the ship to land on Desperus, where a gang of convicts soon learn of the ship’s arrival and begin plotting to take it for themselves.

The three convicts gather closely. All are unkempt and filthy.

As the rest of the crew work on getting the ship up and running again, Katarina spots lights in the distance. It’s the three convicts, Kirksen, Garge and Lars, approaching. Kirksen ends up being waylaid by an aggressive bird, and the other two carry on without him.

In preparation for their arrival, the Doctor drops a cable from the ship into the murky swampwater beneath the entrance, and Katarina activates the current as Garge and Lars attempt to approach. There’s a flash of light and both men scream, then drop down unconscious.

It’s not long before the ship’s ready for takeoff once more, and Bret notices that the outer door is open for some reason, but it’s probably nothing to worry about. The crew leave Desperus as the Daleks crash-land, and it looks like everything’s going brilliantly for about five seconds.

Then Kirsken pops out of the airlock, grabs Katarina, and all hell breaks loose.

Kirksen grabs Katarina.

THE TRAITORS

Holding Katarina hostage, Kirksen demands to be taken to Kembel. It wouldn't be my first choice for a hideaway, that's for sure. I don't do well with humidity or screaming Nazi space monsters with cooking and plumbing tools for arms.

Back on Kembel, the Daleks receive a message from the pursuit fleet, saying they’re ready to continue the mission. The Daleks kindly take the burden off their plungers and tell Chen to go instead, having worked out that the fugitives are heading for Earth. With that settled, the Daleks treat the pursuit ship with patience and understanding, inviting them to return to Kembel.

Of course, the moment they break communications, they order the ship blown up as punishment for failing the mission. I think a lot of us have had bosses like that.

Stephen watches through the airlock window as Katarina struggles against Kirkesn.

Back on the stolen ship, Bret obviously isn’t about to turn and fly back the way he came. He tries to catch Kirksen off guard with a sudden change of direction, but it doesn’t work, causing Kirksen to retreat into the airlock, dragging Katarina with him. They could open the exterior doors and rid themselves of him, but that would kill Katarina too. However, he’s not coming out until they agree to take him to Kembel. The longer they take to make a decision, the longer Katarina’s in danger from him. He’ll kill her if they don’t change course.

The Doctor finally cracks and orders Bret to do as Kirksen says, with Stephen backing him up. However, there’s one person whose opinion nobody asked, and she’s taking matters into her own hands.

Katarina manages to get one arm free of Kirksen’s grip, reaching desperately for something on the wall. By the time the others realise what she’s about to do, it’s too late. The airlock blows open, sucking both Kirksen and Katarina into the vacuum of space.

Katarina's arm stretches out, with Kirksen's trying to pull her back.

At last, a moment of silence as everyone processes what just happened. Stephen isn’t sure that Katarina did it on purpose, but the Doctor gives her more credit than that, and I happen to agree with him.

“She didn't understand. She couldn't understand. She wanted to save our lives and perhaps the lives of all the other beings of the Solar System. I hope she's found her Perfection. Oh, how I shall always remember her as one of the Daughters of the Gods. Yes, as one of the Daughters of the Gods."

Excuse me, I have a little something in my eye. Does this count as the first death of a companion? She wasn’t around for very long, but do you need to be to count as a Companion? To me, if you’ve travelled in his TARDIS by the Doctor's consent, you’re a companion, even if you were only around for a handful of episodes. It’s a proper punch to the gut. We always assume, don’t we, that whatever happens the Doctor and his closest friends will always make it out alive. Here is a stark reminder that travelling with the Doctor is not safe. A single lapse in judgement can snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.

It’s a bit of a pity, because I thought Katarina still had a lot of potential. I suppose that makes it even sadder in a way. The Doctor was so keen to show her the wonders of the cosmos, and now she’ll never get to see them.

Katarina's body floats through space.

And just to rub it in, there’s a shot of the poor girl’s lifeless body drifting away through the void. I hope it was at least quick.

Let’s check in with the baddies. With the threat of the ultimate punishment for failure hanging over his head, Chen meets with his subordinate Lizan, and Karlton, the head of the Space Security Service. He tells them to recall all available agents to Earth so that they can catch Earth’s greatest traitor: Bret Vyon.

It turns out that Karlton is in on the plot with Chen to sell Earth out to the Daleks. Chen will be at the Daleks’ right hand, and Karlton will be at Chen’s, if all goes according to plan. Karlton puts one of his best agents on the job, Sara Kingdom. The actress might look familiar to you if you also watched The Crusade earlier this year.

Karlton briefs Sara Kingdom.

The Doctor and company make a bumpy landing at the ‘Experimental Station’, and Bret cautiously leads the group inside, where he hopes to meet with someone he can trust with the information.

Chen briefs Kingdom on her mission, conveniently leaving out the bit about the Daleks. She’s apparently unwaveringly loyal, but there’s no sense in risking it.

Bret fills his ally Daxtar in on the things they’ve learned, and it seems that Daxtar is eager to help. However, when Daxtar asks about the whereabouts of the Taranium, the Doctor realises he’s not to be trusted. Why? Because they never mentioned that the core is made of Taranium. Bret turns on his ally, and shoots him dead before the Doctor has a chance to find out who else might be in on the conspiracy, prompting the hero’s anger.

Sara Kingdom threatens Stephen, the Doctor and Bret with a gun.

Moments later, Kingdom shows up. It would seem that she and Bret know one another. For a moment, Bret is pleased to see her, hoping that she might be on their side. All hopes are dashed when she demands the Taranium. I don’t think Bret is a very good judge of character.

Bret struggles with Kingdom, buying the others enough time to get out, but leaving him alone with a woman even more trigger happy than he is. He barely gets his hand an inch towards his gun before Kingdom fires on him, killing him instantly.

We’re racking up quite a body count of major characters, aren’t we? I don’t know that I’d call Bret a companion, as he only appears in this one serial, unlike Katarina who was introduced at the end of the previous serial. Additionally, he never actually travels in the TARDIS. He tries, but just ends up tied to a chair, which doesn’t count. I had quite liked having him around, though. It might have been interesting to see how his character might have developed.

With Bret dead and the Doctor and Steven on the run, Kingdom orders her subordinates to secure all the exits. The fugitives must be killed on sight.

Sara Kingdom gives orders to another agent.

Final Thoughts

This would be a much better start to the serial if it didn’t take so long to get to the point. This serial could have benefited from a more ruthless editor: I often noticed scenes that would have benefited from being trimmed down, and a fair amount of characters telling one another things that the audience already knows.

How will it turn out? Will the story unfold into a grand epic, or a bloated mess? We’ll have to wait and see. I just know that, with eight episodes more for me to write about, I’m going to need to drink my body weight in coffee.




[December 4, 1965] A Sign of the Times (Michael Moorcock’s Books of 1965)


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

Across Britain, there has been a recent explosion of road signage. These are designed to establish safer traffic rules and to give people direction on how to use the area who would otherwise be unfamiliar. The one flaw with this is most people are confused as to what they mean.

No Overtaking
No overtaking…or dual carriageway?

In a recent survey only 60 percent of road users knew a black and red car in red circle meant no overtaking, with others believing it meant things like dual carriageway or overtake on the inside.

No Entry
No entry…or cross here?

Pedestrians do not fare much better. Only a small fraction knew that a white bar on a red circle means no entry, with many believing it meant something different, such as a pedestrian crossing.

This responses to the signage is similar to the relationship between science fiction readers and the new wave. For some they are stories full of meaningless symbols that go nowhere, for others it is an essential step in moving science fiction forward. And right at the centre of the new wave is Michael Moorcock.

Michael Moorcock
Michael Moorcock at LonCon this year

In spite of being only 25 years old, Moorcock is one of the core figures in British science fiction. He previously edited both Tarzan Adventures and The Sexton Blake Library before taking over New Worlds magazine last year. For the last 5 years he has been a regular contributor to Carnell’s trio of magazines and has published books before such as The Stealer of Souls.

With Roberts & Vinter Ltd. taking over the magazine and wanting to launch their own paperback publishing arm, the way had been paved for an explosion of Moorcock books on to the market.

However, his output has been of variable quality, so I have decided to rank them from worst to best.

Starting at the bottom of the pile:

5. Warriors of Mars\Blades of Mars\Barbarians of Mars, by Edward P. Bradbury

Michael Kane of Mars

Moorcock is on record as a big fan of Edgar Rice Burroughs, stating one of the first books for adults he read was The Master Mind of Mars. So, it should be no surprise he would write his own version of the Barsoom stories. In these Michael Kane is an American physicist who is transported to Mars in the past and then goes through a series of swashbuckling adventures on the Red Planet.

From what I have heard, Moorcock sat down and wrote the entire trilogy over the course of the week and, unfortunately, it shows. They are horrendously overwritten. Just a sample passage:

His skin was dark, mottled blue. Like the folk of Varnal, he did not wear what we should think of as clothing. His body was a mass of padded leather armour and on his seemingly hairless head with a tough cap, also of padded leather but reinforced with steel.

His face was broad yet tapering, with slitted eyes and a great gash of a mouth that was open now in laughing anticipation of my rapid demise. A mouth full of black teeth, uneven and jagged. The ears were pointed and large sweeping back from the skull. The arms were bare save for wrist-guards, and strongly muscled on a fantastic scale. The fingers were covered – encrusted would be a better description – with crudely cut precious stones.

This level of description just goes on and on. There is also no real depth to these stories, just jumping from one encounter to another.

I suppose this may appeal to the Barsoom fans. But given how regularly Burroughs books are reprinted, why wouldn’t you just pick up the originals?

One star across the whole trilogy

4. The Best of New Worlds, Ed. by Michael Moorcock

The Best of New Worlds

Rather than a novel, this is an anthology he edited (although it does indeed include two of his own stories as should surprise no one). Unlike its title might suggest, this is not so much the best across all of New Worlds' history; rather, it acts as a comparative collection, with 6 from the end of the 50s and 9 from around the recent handover between Carnell and Moorcock’s editorship (3 from the former, 6 from the latter).

As such, what it really provides for an interesting look at how New Worlds has changed over time and the significant difference between James White’s Sector General tales and Hilary Bailey’s The Fall of Frenchy Steiner. Whilst not the best stories themselves it is an interesting concept, nonetheless.

A high three stars

3. Stormbringer, by Michael Moorcock

This collects the remaining four Elric stories from Science Fantasy, meaning between this and The Stealer of Souls you can now own almost the entire Elric saga (the final story published in Fantastic is available in the Carnell anthology Weird Shadows from Beyond, published by Corgi). In these final tales we get the albino Elric's battles against the forces of chaos, as order and chaos battle for domination of the world.

The ideas in Stormbringer are not new and there are solid shades of Howard, Tolkien, and Anderson throughout. A couple of things raise the stories up. Firstly, here Moorcock manages to make his descriptive style evocative without becoming stodgy, really elevating the mood. Secondly, there is the cosmic level these stories go to. More than any other fantasy story we get a sense of scale I have yet to see achieved, reminding me more of Star Maker than Conan.

Four Stars

2. The Fireclown, by Michael Moorcock

In the underground city of Switzerland, elections for the solar government are taking place. Yet, in the lower levels a prophet known as The Fireclown is preaching a return to nature. Is he mad, a danger to mankind, or its saviour?

There is definitely something in the air right now with political distrust and the desire for a strange outsider to save us. Maybe it is the political scandals that have been emerging with increasing frequency. Maybe it is the emergence of demagogues like Barry Goldwater. Whatever the reason, this is reminiscent of Reynolds’ Of Godlike Power and Ellison’s Repent Harlequin…

However, Moorcock goes in his own direction with this idea, adding political intrigue, weird philosophy, and a general distrust of everyone in authority. Graham Hall dismissed this as hack writing. If so, then I am happy to see Moorcock continue to hack away.

A high Four Stars

1. The Sundered Worlds, by Michael Moorcock

This is fixed up from two tales from the end of Science Fiction Adventures, Carnell’s magazine for longer fiction. In fact, the second half appeared in the final ever issue of that great publication. In this story the whole of reality is at threat of collapse and is up to the psychic Renark to seek out the problem. He travels to the Sundered Worlds, a system outside the normal rule of time and space, and must fight to save humanity.

When I think of Moorcock I think of the weird and conceptual, and this is certainly that. This story is frenetically paced, throwing you through multiple ideas, challenges, and worlds, not allowing you to catch your breath. But I never felt myself being let down or confused by any of it. Instead I loved the intense journey I was on. It is not even one I can easily summarise; it has to be experienced.

This is going to be a controversial choice for my favourite of his works as I have heard it loathed by some as obscure and incoherent, but I consider it to instead be astounding and challenging. An amazing trip to go on.

Five Stars

More Moorcock Please!

Whilst his work is not always to be my tastes, when he is willing to try to be ambitious, this young talent is able to create some truly astounding works that may well be considered future classics. With these writings, along with his editorship of New Worlds, Moorcock seems to be pushing science fiction in an interesting direction. And I look forward to what he puts out in the future.

But, if you wouldn’t mind, Michael, no more Kane of Mars stories…

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


by David Levinson

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


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

Heart of Darkness

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


Ian Smith signs the Unilateral Declaration of Independence

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

Conflicts Great and Small

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


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

Moonrakers, by Poul Anderson

At some point in the past, a terraformed Mars broke away from Incorporated Earth. The asteroids were colonized from there, and now, while the larger asteroids like Ceres and Pallas remain loyal to Mars, the smaller bodies are seeking their independence. The asterites are pirating Martian shipping to Jupiter with the tacit support of Earth. Because Mars has privatized most government functions, the Interplanetary Shippers’ Association has hired private investigator James Church to solve the piracy problem. His solution proves to be rather unorthodox.


An asterite salvager makes a big score. Art by John Giunta

Initially, I wondered why this story didn’t appear under Anderson’s Winston Sanders by-line, but the differences soon became apparent. Most notably, he seems to pointing out several of the flaws in his noble asterite society in that series. Earth is also somewhat less awful.

Just as a fix-up novel consists of several short pieces cobbled together to make a book, one could argue this is a fix-up novelette cobbled together from several vaguely connected vignettes without the benefit of any connecting material. We jump from incident to incident with few clues as to how we got there or how it all hangs together. This might work better fleshed out to full novel length. On the whole, it’s not objectively terrible, but I expect better from Poul Anderson. Just barely three stars.

Cindy-Me, by Don F. Briggs

Cindy and her twin brother, our unnamed narrator, are on the run from Old Ralph and trying to get to Aunt Ag. They have incredible psychic powers, but even that might not be enough to evade Ralph and his Watchers.

Briggs is this month’s first-time author. I’m not terribly impressed. The pieces don’t really fit together very well, and the tone shifts a few times. Some of that is due to the author’s attempt to play with the reader’s expectations, but he doesn’t quite achieve his aim. The title and references in the story make the twins sound like a gestalt being, but they come off as two individuals. They also grow increasingly unpleasant, which is part of the point, but they’re hard to take. Two stars.

The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress (Part 2 of 5), by Robert A. Heinlein

Last time around, Heinlein introduced us to the Moon of 2075, a penal colony on the edge of a revolution. At the end of the installment, Mannie, a computer technician, is dragooned into leading said revolution by his tutor, Professor de la Paz, a subversive from Hong Kong Luna named Wyoming Knott, and an intelligent computer nicknamed Mycroft.

Begin Part Two:

Mannie, Wyoh and Prof discuss political philosophy for a while, and then Mike is brought into the conspiracy. He predicts food riots in seven years and cannibalism in less than ten. He also calculates that a rebellion has about a one in seven chance of success and is a bit puzzled when his friends find those odds acceptable. Loonies are gamblers by nature.

What follows is a summary of eleven months of revolutionary organization and planning. Mike creates the persona of Adam Selene to head the revolution. They set up a few fake companies with the purpose of funding the revolution and building a secret electromagnetic cannon, because Mike says they will need to “throw rocks” at Earth. Also of note is the recruitment of eleven-year-old red-head Hazel Meade to oversee the children being used to distribute subversive literature and follow guards. Mannie, Wyoh and Prof start wearing heavy weights, since Mike predicts that at least one of them will need to visit Earth at some point. As the installment ends, Mannie drops in to visit a friend who acts as a judge. This will apparently have a great effect on the course of the revolution.


Our four protagonists. Art by Morrow

There’s not much to say about this one, since it’s just Heinlein setting the final pieces on the board. With any luck, the action will get under way next time. As a standalone, the installment suffers, though it’s actually enjoyable. I’m sure when it’s all together between two covers you won’t even notice.

But that does give me a chance to talk about Mannie’s voice. The Loonie patois is composed of American and Australian vernacular (Mike is a “dinkum thinkum”) and a few Russian loan words along with some Russian grammar, like the lack of definite articles. It works very well and is much easier to read than the Nadsat of A Clockwork Orange. Mannie is one of Heinlein’s best narrators in a long time.

Of final note is young Hazel Meade. I’m pretty sure we’ve met her before. At least, I can think of another Hazel with a family of red-heads and a granddaughter named Meade. She also says her name is on the monument to the revolution back on Luna. Yes, I’m fairly sure this is Grandma Hazel from Heinlein’s The Rolling Stones.

As noted, not much happens, but it has that Heinlein readability. Three stars.

Mr. Jester, by Fred Saberhagen

A severely damaged Berserker has its brain placed in a new ship. This flips a switch installed by the Builders during the testing phase of their destructive creations. A switch that renders the Berserker harmless. Meanwhile on Planet A, which has been cut off from contact with the rest of the human galaxy for a while, a man is accused of making jokes. As punishment, he is sent to an observation post on the edge of the system, where he encounters the harmless Berserker. Together they return to Planet A.


Oh, that’s not creepy at all. Art by Gaughan

This story bears a lot of similarities to Harlan Ellison’s Repent, Harlequin. Indeed, had they come out a year apart, rather than a month, I’d suspect one of inspiring the other. Maybe Fred Pohl suggested the same story seed to both authors. I’ve regularly praised Saberhagen for bringing something fresh to this series every time. The story is still fresh, but for me it doesn’t quite work. It’s not something I can really pin down, but this is the least of the Berserker stories, and I prefer Harlan’s take on the concept. Just barely three stars.

A Planet Like Heaven, by Murray Leinster

On the planet Dorade, the Dorade Corporation harvests kamun logs from a deadly, mobile tree using animal workers. As usual, the Home Office sends new instructions with the regular ship and only delivers them just before departure to keep the local managers from objecting. Headquarters is demanding a doubling of production and has instructions on how to achieve this. Orders which appall local manager Chalmers and head overseer of the workers Burke. Neither man feels he can defy orders, since that would mean quitting and then they’d have to pay for their passage back home, which would bankrupt them. The next ship brings no less than the president of the corporation, who takes charge of the operation, disgusted by the local men’s failures.


Chalmers and one of his best workers. Art by Adkins

Murray Leinster has been off his game lately. Here, he returns to form at long last. This is a good story that makes its point clearly and reasonably consicely. Alas, while it’s obvious from the text, it’s never explicitly stated until the final line that the workers are elephants. The illustration gives that away and detracts somewhat from the punch of the ending. A pity, but still a solid three stars.

The Smallness Beyond Thought, by Robert Moore Williams

Two scouts are hiking a desert canyon, collecting rocks. Finding an interesting piece of quartz, they pull out an odd device to test it. After this, we are given the history of the strange hermit who has lived here for decades beyond memory and built a number of strange structures and walkways that go nowhere. He also seems to be friends with the local rattlesnakes. Finally, we meet Ed Quimby, the number two man at the nearby observatory, who befriends the hermit after a fashion, and unwittingly gets involved when an outsider seems to be after the hermit.


Someone approaches the smallness beyond thought. Art by Gaughan

Williams presents us with a number of mysteries and resolves none of them. We learn nothing about the hermit, the (possibly two groups of) people after him or why they want him. We do learn the function of the odd structures, but nothing of their purpose. On top of that, the hermit has an incredibly annoying accent. And this all goes on and on for over thirty pages, leaving us none the wiser as to what has happened. A very low two stars.

Summing Up

Well, the stories this month are certainly full of people exerting an assumed superiority over others, from government goons to corporate heavyweights. And just like in real life, they’re frequently very wrong. Unfortunately, this time out the stories produced aren’t all that great. Let’s put this one in the books and hope for better efforts (and some actual action from Heinlein) next month.


At least it doesn’t seem to be a Gree story.





[November 30, 1965] War is Swell (December 1965 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

The Thrill of Combat

It was just twenty years ago that the second war to end all wars drew to an explosive close. Two titans of tyranny (and their little brother) were defeated by the Arsenal of Democracy.  Clearly, World War 2 was "the good war:" there's a reason it is now as popular on television and in wargames as the Western and the Civil War.

And just in time.  After the sloggish stalemate of Korea and the painful "escalatio" in Vietnam (credit to Tom Lehrer), war needs to be fun again.  I suppose it's no surprise that war is not only a common theme in science fiction, but the good and fun kind of war is the thread that ties together the December 1965 issue of Analog, notoriously the most conservative (reactionary?) of the outlets in our visionary genre.

One War after Another


by Kelly Freas

Beehive (Part 1 of 2), by Mack Reynolds

Ronny Bronston, forgettably faced but utterly competent agent for Earth's "Section G" is back.  Last we saw him, he'd been on the trail of interstellar troublemaker, Tommy Paine, spurring revolution on dozens of worlds.  Turned out that Paine was actually Section G, itself, skirting the non-interference clauses of the galactic charter to ensure that the colony worlds didn't stagnate.

In Beehive, we find out why: a century ago, the first sentient alien was found.  Well, actually, its corpse — it had been a casualty of a war of extermination.  And we still don't know who their enemy was, or if they'll soon be knocking on our doors.  That's why the super secret service has been surreptitiously trying to speed of progress on all of the colony worlds so that when the aliens do come, we'll be as ready as possible.

One of the more successful colonies, the putatively libertarian but actually authoritarian world of Phrygia appears to be making a play to turn the galactic society into an Empire, and Bronston is dispatched to get the facts on the ground.  But when he gets there, the agent discovers that the wheels have wheels within them, and the Phrygian dictator knows far more about the alien threat than Section G.


by Kelly Freas

While this serial has a definite hook of a cliffhanger, for the most part, it's not Reynolds' best…or even his middlin'.  There's a glib, breezy quality to it that is both smug and serves to reduce the tension.  The central idea is repugnant, too — that Earth knows best, and their underhanded means of stimulating progress are justified.  But then Campbell probably didn't watch that recent documentary on how the CIA messed up in Guatemala.

Anyway, I'll keep reading, but it's two stars right now.

Warrior, by Gordon R. Dickson


by Kelly Freas

Another sequel and another war.  In Dickson's Dorsai universe, humanity has spread to thirteen worlds, each focusing on an aspect of cultural development.  The Dorsai have made war their profession, turning it into a sublime art, and they are the most esteemed and feared mercenaries.

In the novella/novel, Soldier, Ask Not, we were introduced to twin brother generals, Kenzie and Ian Graeme.  The former is a charismatic leader, the latter a sullen but matchless strategician.

Ian Graeme returns in Warrior, traveling to Earth to seek justice for 32 of his men, slaughtered when their glory-hunting captain disobeyed orders to lead a hopeless charge.  The officer was court martialed and executed, but Graeme knows that the real culprit is his gangster brother.  Warrior tells the tale of Graeme and the brother's eventual and climactic confrontation.

There are a lot of inches in this story devoted to the obvious prowess of Mr. Graeme, his dark eminence, his barely suppressed strength, his intimidating military demeanor that requires no uniform, etc. etc.  Frankly, it all runs thin early on.

Still, it's a pretty good story (breathlessly recommended by my nephew David…but then so was Beehive), and the display of Dorsai tactics, trapping the brother within the trap being laid for Graeme, was effective.

Three stars.

Heavy Elements , by Edward C. Walterscheid

Ever wonder how the transuranium elements were fashioned?  Walterschied returns for a very comprehensive article on the subject.  There's a lot of good information here, and it's reasonably well delivered.  It's also very dense (no pun intended), certainly not in the Asimov style.  It took me a few sittings to get through.

Three stars.

Mission "Red Clash", by Joe Poyer


by Gray Morrow

Joe Poyer's first story is essentially the Analog version of the MacLean novel, Ice Station Zebra.  The pilot of a next-generation recon plane, the hypersonic X-17, is forced to bail out over Norway after being shot down by a Russian interceptor.  Now he, and the three men dispatched from the nuclear cruiser John F. Kennedy, must evade squads of Soviets and survive frigid conditions to get critical intelligence back to our side.

Told with technophiliac details so lurid that I felt it belonged under rather than on the counter, there's not much of a story here.  Mission lacks context, characterization, and conclusion, leaving a competently told middle section of an unfinished novel.  It's low budget Martin Caidin.

Two stars.

Countercommandment, by Patrick Meadows


by Domenic Iaia

Last up, a computer scientists is rushed to NORAD to find out why, three hours after World War 3 was declared by the Chinese, the Big Brain has not executed a countersrike.  And why, despite the efforts of the enemy, their missiles haven't launched either.

This is a two page story padded to ten with the gimmick that the computers, having access to our most sacred documents, which all speak to the sanctity of human life, could not in good conscience end humanity.

It might work in Heinlein's new serial currently running in IF.  It makes no sense for computers of 1970s vintage, and it comes off as mawkish.

One star.

One Million Deaths is a Statistic

This war-soaked issue of Analog scores a dismal 2.2, barely beating out the truly awful Amazing (1.8).

Above it, we have IF (2.6), New Writings #6 (2.9), Galaxy and New Worlds (3), Science Fantasy (3.1), and the superlative Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.9)

In keeping with the (not entirely accurate) notion that war is a "man's game", there were no entries by women this month.  Zero.  Goose egg.  Color me dismayed.

And on that note, we are done with all of the science fiction magazines with a 1965 cover date.  Rest assured, we have compiled all of the statistics from the past year, and our Journey-Vac will be spitting out a fine edition of the '65 Galactic Stars at the end of next month. 

You won't want to miss it!



And speaking of stars…

If you caught my review last year of Tom Purdom's I Want the Stars, then you know why I was so excited at the chance to reprint it. And now it can be yours! This new Journey Press edition also comes with a special 'making-of' section.

Get yourself a copy, and maybe one for a friend!