Category Archives: Science Fiction/Fantasy

Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[July 14, 1965] The New Dispensation (August 1965 Amazing)

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by John Boston

Continuity and Change

Yeah, yeah, I know that’s the most boring headline since the last time Hubert Humphrey made a speech.  But that’s what everybody (well, somebody) wants to know: how is the new Amazing different, or not, from the old one?

Some things we already knew.  It’s still digest size, now bimonthly, with 32 more pages for a total of 162.  On the cover there is a piece of retro-continuity; the new regime has dropped the old title logo for the older title logo, the one used from October 1960 to December 1963, with very minor variations—an improvement, to my taste.  There’s a fairly generic cover by Alex Schomburg (I am certain the departed editor Lalli had a closet full of these) portraying, as you see, a guy in a loincloth brandishing a spear at a giant computer: Progress vs. Savagery, or Regimentation vs. Natural Freedom, as you prefer.  It is said on the contents page to illustrate Keith Laumer’s Time Bomb.  It does not.  There are a number of interior illustrations.  Coming Next Month has not returned.


by Alex Schomburg

And on the contents page . . . oh no.  The blazing insignia of continuity are . . . Ensign De Ruyter and Robert F. Young.  Forty-six pages of Robert F. Young.  Well, let us keep an open mind; here, brace it with this two-by-four.  Anyway, it’s a mistake to infer too much from this month’s fiction contents, since the new management will likely be burning off the inherited Ziff-Davis inventory for some months.

The non-fiction includes another of Robert Silverberg’s articles on scientific hoaxes, and Silverberg’s book review column—good signs if they are signs, but they too may just be what Lalli left behind.  Ironically, the review column is devoted entirely to reprints, ranging from Wells to Sturgeon.  There is also an editorial, in which Sol Cohen—listed on the contents page as Editor and Publisher—first demonstrates that he can be just as boring as his predecessor in editorializing Norman Lobsenz, and then offers a lame explanation of his plans regularly to publish reprints from old issues of the magazine. 

As for the reprints themselves, Cohen has gone for big names, with early short stories from Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury: respectively, The Weapon Too Dreadful To Use from the May 1939 issue, and Final Victim (with Henry Hasse), from February 1946.  Each is accompanied by an unsigned introduction, shorter and less bombastic than those by Sam Moskowitz for the “SF Classic” selections of the Ziff-Davis years.  The original illustrations are reprinted along with the stories.

Time Bomb, by Keith Laumer

Keith Laumer’s novelet Time Bomb begins with Yondor, the son of the chief, going over the mountain to look around.  And he sees—danger!  Wounded on the way back, he makes his way home and reports to the chief that their way of life is at risk and they must act!  But the chief doesn’t want to hear it—hey!  Wake up back there!  If you’re bored, do something useful, like listing all the stories you’ve read that begin with this particular cliche.


by Nodel

Anyway, these primitive characters are the descendants of a human outpost, now menaced by the evil alien Tewk, and Yondor gets away from their attack and into a machine with a transportation system requiring only that he sit in a chair and pull a lever and he’ll be somewhere else.  This is a convenient substitute for a plot, as Yondor blunders his way from place to place before learning enough to get back, rescue his people, and smite the bad guys.  As generic melodrama goes, it’s smooth and clever enough that it might be mildly entertaining, say, if one were stuck in an airport waiting for a late plane.  Two stars.

The City of Brass, by Robert F. Young


by Gray Morrow

On the other hand, remarkably, Robert F. Young’s The City of Brass is actually fairly amusing, and not offensively stupid like most of his other rehashes of myths, legends, testaments, etc.  Billings of Animannikins, Inc., has flown in his time sled back to the days of the Arabian Nights in order to kidnap Scheherazade, here rendered Shahrazad, bring her back to the present so his employers can work up a facsimile for public performance, and then return her to her fate.  But Billings kicks some wires in the sled out of place and they wind up stranded in the age of the Jinn (which proves to be about 100,000 years in the future), not far from the Jinn’s brazen city of the title.

Shahrazad is undaunted.  She doesn’t much like Jinn, and is in possession of a Seal of Solomon (here rendered Suleyman) with which she proposes to force all the Jinn into bottles and seal them up.  Billings considers this a reckless plan, and goes out to reconnoiter, setting in train a ridiculous plot involving ridiculous revelations about the Jinn, their origin, and what has happened to humanity in the intervening millennia.  This actually might have made it into John W. Campbell’s fantasy magazine Unknown if he had run short of material one month.  Young’s familiar sentimentality about beautiful women and the men who are captivated by them threatens to take over, but the story ends quickly enough not to ruin the comic mood.

Three stars.  I’ll put that two-by-four back in the shed.

The Weapon Too Dreadful to Use, by Isaac Asimov


by Julian Krupa

The reprints from Amazing’s past nicely illustrate the problems with reprinting from Amazing’s past.  Asimov’s The Weapon Too Dreadful To Use is his second published story and shows it, with stilted writing, cliched characters and dialogue, and a muddled point.  Humans have occupied Venus and are oppressing the natives, though supposedly racial discrimination and hostility have been eliminated on Earth.  (Not too plausible.) The protagonist and his Venusian friend Antil trek to the ruins of a Venusian city and visit the science museum, which is largely intact, but no one has looked at it in living memory.  (Even less plausible.) In a formerly sealed room, Antil finds the eponymous weapon, which can destroy people’s mental functions at interplanetary distances.  (Plausibility meter breaks.) Venus rebels, Earth sends troops, Venus destroys the minds of a lot of them, Earth backs down and grants independence.  It’s clear there’s a smart guy here trying to figure out how to write stories, but he’s not there yet.  Two stars.

Final Victim, by Ray Bradbury and Henry Hasse


by Hadden

Bradbury and Hasse’s Final Victim is much worse.  It is essentially a Bat Durston—a transplanted Western—about a bad deputy, excuse me, Patrolman, Skeel, who always kills the fugitives he is supposed to apprehend.  His superior Anders knows his excuses are no good but can’t do anything, until Miss Miller, the sister of Skeel’s most recent kill, who has proven to be innocent of the accusation against him, decides to go after Patrolman Skeel.  Anders, noting “the firm line of her chin, the trimness of her space uniform, the hard bold blueness of her eyes which he imagined could easily be soft on less drastic occasions than this,” decides to set her up to ambush Skeel herself out on the plains, I mean asteroids, and take revenge.  But when things get really tough, Miss Miller faints.  I stopped there.  Forget stars.  One mud pie.

The Good Seed, by Arthur Porges

Arthur Porges’s The Good Seed, as mentioned, is another in the series about Ensign De Ruyter.  As usual it has some Earth guys at the mercy of treacherous primitive aliens, and they solve their problem with a scientific gimmick that you might find in the Fun with Science column of a kids’ magazine.  One star.

John Keely’s Perpetual Motion Machine, by Robert Silverberg

Robert Silverberg comes to the rescue in his article about a guy who managed to make a pretty good career out of the perpetual motion con, but ironically might have had a better one developing the means of his fraud in the light of day.  This is by far the best story in the issue, despite the fact that it is apparently true.  Four stars.

Summing Up

Well, that was dismal, wasn’t it?  Except for the Mitigation of Robert F. Young (can someone make a ballad out of that?) and Silverberg’s matter-of-fact competence at storytelling and -finding, nothing to see here, move on, move on.

[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




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Book

[July 12, 1965] A pair of Aces (July 1965 Galactoscope)

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by Rosemary Benton

A happy duo

The newest Ace Double is an absolute blast. On the one side is veteran writer John Brunner's new novel The Altar of Asconel, which was previously covered in serialization by David Levinson.  On the other side is the first solo project of science fiction fandom superstar – Ted White. Android Avenger! The very title of this book sings with promise of action and adventure, and while it certainly delivers I would say that it goes well beyond a short fun read.

Out of Place in Plain Sight

The story takes place in a future on Earth where maintaining sanity has become the objective of the human race. There is an orderly mundanity to everything, and deviation from this norm in any form, from rebellious fashion choices to antisocial tendencies, is punishable by death. Such executions are merged into the daily lives of the citizens of the metropolitan areas. Just like jury duty, anyone of legal age can be called upon to be part of the assembly that collectively pushes the button on the condemned's electric chairs.

Living his own mundane life is Bob Tanner, a resident of Manhattan who, oddly shaken and distracted after attending to his Citizen's duty as an executioner, has a mishap and gets his leg mangled in one of the city's moving walkways. Upon waking up to find that he is entirely healed from such a grievous injury, he overhears some disturbing information about the results of the scans that were run on him while he was unconscious – his bones are made of metal and he may not be entirely human.

Since extreme physical deviancy is also considered an unacceptable trait, Bob realizes that he must run for his life. Planning on journeying out into the countryside where there are fewer police and mental scanners, Bob manages to escape the hospital. Unfortunately his plans quickly careen off course when control of his body is seized from him. Piloted by unknown individuals for unknown reasons, Bob is made into the murderous pawn of one of the best kept secret societies in the city.

Ultimately our protagonist is put in the precarious position of balancing his human identity with the purpose for which an automaton such as himself was created. The story ends on a relatively upbeat note with Bob successfully regaining his autonomy, accepting his mission as an android, and still maintaining a precious, personal human identity. But after reading White’s book and thinking on it, one is still left wondering if technology unknowingly guiding humanity is such a good thing after all. 

A Little Background

Ted White is an extremely active member of the fandom community. He is a regular contributor, editor and a fanzine founder. He’s also got an impressive number of letters and essays reviewing, dissecting, and speculating on the numerous subgenres and authors out there.

Currently White is the assistant editor of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. To date this opinionated author has four professional writing credits to his name: three collaborative stories (two with Terry Carr and one with Marion Zimmer Bradley) and of course, Android Avenger. With such a passion for the genre, it was only a matter of time before White began releasing his own lengthier original works of science fiction.

Breaking Down the Components

First and foremost, Ted White is to be congratulated on telling a compelling story of android self-realization mixed with a heavy dose of noir elements. The intensity of Bob Tanner's character as he struggles with his body betraying societal norms, his self doubt when he begins to question his own mind and consequently his basic sense of self – all of this speaks to the fatalism and moral ambiguity of noir. Yet it is encased in a science fiction paperback. 

This blend of genres in turn segues nicely into White's talent for writing action sequences that are clean cut and descriptive without being too wordy. The events of this book are fast paced. So much so that the reader, like the protagonist himself, might feel thrown and unable to get their feet under them before they are swept up in another scene. It’s destabilizing without being disruptive to the flow of the novel. It’s just enough to keep us guessing at what will happen next right there alongside Bob.

Finally, White is to be commended on the excellent job he does writing the protagonist's first person narrative. Successfully accomplishing this type of narration is no small feat for a writer. It's very easy for the tension to be sucked from a book if the storyteller is untrue to their inner voice, specifically in terms of their changing perspective and the information they are aware of at any given point in the story.

But in Android Avenger the reader is never given too little to work with, and even when the events get pretty surreal it's all brought back down to Earth with well written dialogue and succinct descriptions. It may not be the deepest intellectual exploration of humanity and technology, but judged on sheer enjoyability this book is well worth a five star rating.

That puts it well above what my colleague, David, rated Altar, but ACE Double M-123 is still well worth picking up!

Ace Books: Pirate Publisher?

Photo of Erica Frank
by Erica Frank

In addition to its usual science fiction double, this month, Ace is releasing the second and third books of Tolkien's famous Lord of the Rings trilogy. The first, Fellowship of the Ring, has been selling amazingly well at its new low price of 75¢, a scant fraction of the former hardcover price. Ratatosk 12 had a brief review of Fellowship:

I am not all that crazy about Jack Gaughan's cover (tho other, less critical Tolkienists have expressed satisfaction with it), and there is no mention that the title illo is borrowed from the d/w of the American edition b*u*t: illos are not a book, and the fact that the volume is now available at less than 1/6 of the original U.S. price is a Very Good Deal. The typography is clear, and I have as yet found no typos to stumble over in reading.

While professor Tolkien was adamant that his works not be published in so "degenerate a form" as paperback, it appears that Houghton Mifflin, the publisher of the U.S. hardcover editions, failed to properly copyright them — and so the works are in the public domain here.

Three book covers: The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and The Return of the King

Feast your eyes upon either a stealth mission to evade the enforcers of a corrupt empire, or a dastardly attack against the rightful rulers of the text. You decide.
Photo by Gwydion M. Williams

Fanzine Focal Point 8 mentions a few of the details:

Houghton Mifflin, the hardbound publishers of the Ring Trilogy in the United States, was either too cheap or too stupid to have the finest fantasy epic of our century copyrighted in the United States; they ran, instead, a notice that the book was copyrighted in England, which only protected the work until it was published in the United States.

The way copyright law works, in this case: Nations that have joined the Universal Copyright Convention of 1952, agree to honor the copyrights of member states' works as if they had been published in their own country. So: a work copyrighted in the UK, is protected in the US; a publisher can't just grab a book and publish it here. However… once it's published here, it's subject to normal US copyright law, not the UCC. By publishing it in the US without a proper copyright notice, the work falls into the public domain. (Or so the claim goes. I am not a copyright lawyer. Don't quote me in court.)

So Wollheim gave up on trying to arrange licensing with Tokien and decided to meet the demand of the fannish readers, and all's well in the world of epic tales of elven adventures, yes?

…Perhaps not. Tolkien has protested the publication, claiming it is an infringement of his author's rights, and his publishers in the UK and the US are working to print a new authorized edition while he investigates his legal options.

So for now… buy quickly; these editions may not stick around for long.




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Fashion, music, politics, sports, TV

[July 10, 1965] "Since I fell for you" (a Young Traveler's crush)

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by Lorelei Marcus

Love. The fluttering of butterflies, entire acceptance of another, passionate desire, comradery, compassion, a word. Love is used so often and means so much that it's practically a cliché. I hear it applied to numerous names on the radio, such as "Johnny," "Wendy," and "my darling in Michigan." Nearly every man on television has a woman to love or fall in love with. And perhaps the most visible example at the moment is the squealing masses of girls my age who claim to be in love with the Beatles. I once, foolishly, saw myself above it all. Sure I like to date, and I love my parents, but those gooey feelings that seem to saturate every cranny of our culture were beyond me and my maturity.

That is, until America's most charming actor came along.

This is how I fell hard for handsome, clever, talented teen idol of the century: Tony Randall.

My first real encounter with Tony Randall (one Password game I don't remember aside) was his starring role(s) in Seven Faces of Dr. Lao. The movie itself was whimsical and fun, but it was certainly Randall's acting that made it a memorable experience. He blends into each of his seven roles perfectly, to the point that I first believed they were played by different actors!

He's at his best though, when he is playing Dr. Lao; specifically when he drops the stereotypical façade of a foolish Chinese man and becomes the traveled scholar underneath. Suddenly he is standing straight and tall, almost regal in his confidence. His voice is deep and carrying, but his demeanor is kind, wise, and gentle. He speaks in a perfect and precise manner and his words discuss the magical secrets of the universe. I hadn't known it at the time, but despite all the makeup and effects, this role was one of the closest to Randall's true self.

At this point, I was awed by Randall's performance in the movie, but felt little beyond that. Dr. Lao was a few thousand years too old for my tastes, and I had yet to see the man behind him more clearly. Then my father's and my weekly Password viewing happened to feature a very special guest. I was quite excited, not necessarily because it was Tony Randall on Password, but simply because it was an actor that I recognized and admired. At least, that's how it started.

I was folding laundry while watching the TV, and I found my attention frequently drifting away from my linens and to the man on screen (no, not host Alan Ludden.) Randall was fascinating to watch. He always sat with perfect poise and spoke with wonderful rich tones. And he was absolutely erudite, forcing me to pull out a dictionary a few times. His brilliance aided in his gameplaying as well, as I believe he is the only player in Password history so far to win four games in a row!

It was an experience. The feelings crept up on me and changed. I admitted later that night to my father that I may have had the teensiest tiniest insignificant little crush on Tony Randall. After a bout of laughter and teasing, suddenly our dining room table was covered in TV guides and movie schedules in a desperate search for a single starring name. This wasn't just a harmless crush anymore, but rather a crusade to expose myself to as much Tony Randall content as possible.

That's how the family ended up at the local theater watching one of the last viewings of Boys Night Out, a movie starring James Garner, Tony Randall, and a host of others. Three married men and one recently divorced make a plan to share a luxurious apartment where they can each escape from their lives at home with a beautiful girl for a night. Except the beautiful girl they find turns out to be a sociologist, so those nights don't go quite as expected. It was a cute film with hopeful messaging and a good ending. Not to mention how amazingly colorful the sets and costumes were.

Unfortunately the direction wasn't the best, making the movie a little boring in parts. It didn't help that Tony Randall was only in some of the scenes. Even when he was on screen he played a man meant to be weak, average, and unintelligent. Randall did a fantastic job portraying the character, down to the deliberate slouching, but it was infuriating to watch because he was playing the complete opposite of the man I wanted to see– himself! Sadly this would become a trend…

Next we found a drive-in playing a double feature revival night of Barbara Eden movies. Funny enough both films also happened to star Tony Randall. First we watched The Brass Bottle, your typical genie story. Randall plays a young up and coming architect (a role better suited for literally any other male actor in Hollywood) who accidentally frees a genie of near limitless power who now answers to his every whim. Of course the genie is a few thousand years out of date, so how he executes those orders varies from inconvenient to disastrous for Randall's character.

Overall the movie was terrible, even with Randall's superb acting (once again wasted on a slouching, sputtering fool.) The one good scene is when Randall gets to interact with the mule and has to ad lib. for part of it. Randall also executes quite a few fantastic girly screams. That's it though; otherwise it's a one star movie.

The second movie carried a little more promise: Will Success Ruin Rock Hunter? was Randall's breakout role into cinema, after all. Randall plays a young up-and-coming marketing executive – I'm noticing a pattern here – who accidentally seduces a movie star and is turned into the world's best lover overnight, causing chaos to ensue in his life. The movie had too much it wanted to do. It took time in the introduction and halfway through for comedic bits poking fun at television and marketing. Its main plot sacrificed character development for ridiculous slapstick that wasn't particularly funny, and ultimately the ending was thrown out too, to fit in a speech about the moral. Despite all these flaws, it was still a better movie than Brass Bottle. It was clever in a few parts, and watching Tony Randall be mobbed by teenage girls was hilarious.

Both films are a testament to Randall's acting skills. He takes these roles of such generic characters and plays them to a T. This means aside from some very brief moments where the mask slips, I don't actually get to watch the actor that I know and like. For instance, I know that Tony Randall started in stage productions and is a professionally trained dancer. Yet twice in Rock Hunter he is forced to dance poorly, going against all his instincts and training, and he succeeds (at dancing poorly)!

Randall has so much potential as an actor, and yet no one can seem to cast him in anything but comedic romps (excluding the unusual case of Dr. Lao)! It makes me wary of the new Fluffy movie that's just come out. Especially considering Randall himself had an unpleasant time filming with the lion. I will still see it of course – I have a duty to uphold – but I've found that Randall's name in the credits doesn't guarantee I'll enjoy a film he's in.

On the bright side, television has been kinder (both to him and me) than the movies. I got to see Randall on What's My Line? last week and he was as composed and well spoken as ever. I hear he'll also be on Password again in the next few weeks, so have something to look forward to.

I also hope to see him in one of his stage shows. With all the character and energy he brings to each role on the screen, I bet he really shines under the spotlight. Nevertheless, whatever he's in next, be it on film, video, kinescope, or (if I'm lucky) on a stage, I'll be there to watch it.

Because I have a big old crush on Tony Randall.

This is the Young traveler, signing off.

If you want to see more of the Young Traveler, come register for this week's The Journey Show! 

We'll be discussing the latest fashion trends of 1965, and we have some amazing guests including the founder of Bésame Cosmetics.  Plus, you'll get to see the Young Traveler show off her newest outfits!

DON'T MISS IT!




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Magazine

[July 8, 1965] Saving the worst for first (August 1965 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Milestones

Galaxy has now finished 15 years of publication, two thirds of it under the tenure of H. L. Gold and the last five years with Fred Pohl as editor.  If Analog (ne Astounding) is representative of the Golden Age of Science Fiction, and Fantasy and Science Fiction represents the literary fringes of the genre, then Galaxy is emblematic of Science Fiction's Silver Age. 

Now, in the editorial for this month's issue, Pohl notes that Galaxy has evolved with the times and is a different magazine from the one that debuted with an October 1950 cover date.

I'm not sure I agree.  The magazine still looks largely the same, there's still a Willy Ley article in the middle, and the contents still feel roughly within the same milieu: a bit "softer" than the nuts and bolts in Analog, a little meatier than the often light fare of F&SF.  Certainly nothing so avant-garde as what we're seeing from the "New Wave" mags in the UK.

In any event, Pohl undercuts his own assertion by trumpeting next month's issue, which will feature nothing but alumni from the early days of the magazine.  I'm quite looking forward to it, and clearly Pohl is, too.

And after reading this month's issue, boy can I see why…

Recipe for Disaster


by Gray Morrow

Do I Wake or Dream?, by Frank Herbert

The creator of Dune and other lesser titles dominates the current issue: a full 119 pages are devoted to this short novel.  I was dreading it last month, and my dread was well-founded.  Here's the premise:

A giant sphere of a ship, the Earthling, is headed out of the solar system toward Tau Ceti.  On board are six normal human crew, two thousand frozen and dehydrated people, and a thousand embryos.  The humans are all genetic duplicates (with full memories, natch) of actual people, and their main job is to tend the ship-controlling disembodied human brains of "defectives" that have been integrated and trained for the task since birth (a la McCaffrey's The Ship who Sang or Niven's recent series starring Eric the Cyborg).

One by one, the three brains go nuts and either commit suicide or have to be shut down.  Two of the tending crew are murdered in the process.  Now the remaining four have to decide whether to turn back or not.  Complicating the decision is the fact that running the ship without a built-in brain is virtually impossible — the ship has been designed to be extremely delicate to handle, even to the point of having artificial crises pop up just to keep the crew on their toes!

Ultimately, the crew decides to thaw a frozen doctor (so they have, you know, one woman in their ranks) and then, together, create an artificial computer brain to run the ship.

And if that's not enough random factors to juggle, it is also noted that the Earthling is the seventh ship to have its brains all give up.  So this problem has happened twenty one times (what is it that Einstein is reputed to have said about the definition of madness?) And the last time humanity tried to build a sentient computer, the computer, the installation in which it was developed, indeed the entire island disappeared off the face of the Earth into some other dimension, destination unknown.

Herbert is nothing if not ambitious.


by John Giunta

He is, however, also a lousy writer.  I said as much after reading the sprawling, tedious, and humorless Dune World and its second half, Prophet of Dune.  One of my readers suggested that Herbert's third-person omniscient perspective, switching viewpoint characters almost every line, accented by (often superfluous) musings in italics was a deliberate stylistic choice to render the telepathic resonance shared by users of the spice melange.  But he uses the exact same style in Do I Wake, and there is nothing supernatural in this book.

I also found the overt anti-woman prejudice annoying, with the woman doctor character starting out pumped full of anti-sex drugs to keep her from being too excited all the time (one of the men debates taking some, himself, because he worries he'll be too attracted to the doctor; he decides against it because they reduce intelligence.  Fine for her, though.) Even the drawing of the doctor features her tawdrily topless.

Then there is the endless technical jargon that is not only gibberish, but often archaic gibberish: describing the ship's computer's "relays" (as opposed to transistors or microcircuits) is anachronistic for modern times, more so for machines of the future.

So, not only is Do I Wake a distinct displeasure to read, but it also is utterly implausible every step of the way.  At the Journey, we attempt to review everything in the genre that gets put to print, but we refuse to do it to the point of mortification.  I gave up on page 40, and you should feel no shame if you follow suit.

One star.

Peeping Tommy, by Robert F. Young

Yet another Robert F. Young reworking of a fable.  It keeps you engaged until the end, which is typically terrible.

Two stars.

The Galactic Giants, by Willy Ley

The one bright spot in the issue is Ley's competent science article, the majority of which is devoted to giant stars.  The rest deals with tape as a medium for data storage.

Interesting stuff.  Four stars.

Please State My Business, by Michael Kurland

A traveling salesman from the future ends up in the wrong century.  High jinks ensue.  Well, given that the story starts with a sexual assault and ends with a whimper, the jinks are rather low.

Two stars.

The Shipwrecked Hotel, by James Blish and Norman L. Knight


by Gray Morrow

Seven hundred years from now, the Earth houses One Trillion Humans in relative comfort.  This piece details the unfortunate saga of the "Barrier-hilthon", a beach-ball shaped hotel loosely anchored in the South Pacific.  Thanks to some literal bugs in the system, it becomes unmoored, ultimately crashing into an undersea mountain.  A rescue follows.

Hotel could have made an excellent novel by Arthur C. Clarke — a cross between A Fall of Moondust and Dolphin Island.  As is, it's not only surprisingly amateur, but it's also just sort of lifeless, more plot thumbnail than story.

I was a bit surprised as Hotel's expository style did not feel like James Blish at all (I don't know who Norman L. Knight is).  Then I got to the end where it says the story was by James H. Schmitz and Norman L. Knight.  I'm not sure whether its Blish or Schmitz, but Schmitz makes a lot more sense.  Schmitz is often good, but he's also often not, and in just this sort of way.

Two stars.

Galaxy Bookshelf, by Algis Budrys

I don't normally devote inches to the book columns. Nevertheless, I've given Budrys a long rope since he came on few months ago, and I can now say with certainty that not only is his judgment orthogonal to mine, but his writing is impenetrable, too.  This is a pity.  I've liked much of the fiction Budrys has written (at least long ago when he was writing consistently), and I used to greatly value Galaxy's book reviews. 

All Hope Abandoned

Wow.  That was just dreadful.  The only faint praise I can damn with is that the Herbert novel was so bad, it meant I didn't have to waste time on 80 pages of the magazine.  This is, without a doubt, the most worthless issue in the Galaxy series.

At least the bar to clear for next month is nice and low!

If you need to get the bad taste out of your mouth (and I know I do!) come register for this week's The Journey Show! 

We'll be discussing the latest fashion trends of 1965, and we have some amazing guests including the founder of Bésame Cosmetics.  Plus, you'll get to see the Young Traveler show off her newest outfits!

DON'T MISS IT!




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Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[July 6, 1965] Same Difference (Dr. Who And The Daleks)

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By Jessica Holmes

Welcome to another round of my ramblings on Doctor Who, where this time I’ll be talking about something a bit different. I’ve had the opportunity to see the Doctor, Ian, Barbara and Susan in full colour on the big screen, but not quite as you know them.

I’ve just previewed the new film (so new, in fact, that it doesn’t come out in the UK theaters until August) Dr. Who And The Daleks, Milton Subotsky’s adaptation of Terry Nation’s serial, The Daleks. Directed by Gordon Flemyng and starring Peter Cushing, this adaptation manages to be too much like the original and not enough, both to its detriment. How? Well, let me explain.

For anyone who didn’t see the original The Daleks, or missed my review back then, here’s a basic rundown of the plot. If you’re familiar with the original, you can skip this next bit. Aside from the setup, it is almost exactly the same.

Image description: Film poster. Top text: NOW ON THE BIG SCREEN IN COLOUR! Bottom text: DR. WHO & THE DALEKS, TECHNICOLOR TECHNISCOPE, PETER CUSHING, ROY CASTLE, JENNIE LINDEN, ROBERTA TOVEY.

A Quick Recap

Eccentric-but-kindly inventor Dr. Who lives (Peter Cushing) with his two granddaughters, Susan (Roberta Tovey) and Barbara (Jennie Linden). When Barbara’s friend Ian (Roy Castle) comes by the house one day, Dr. Who shows him his new invention, a time-and-space machine called Tardis, which is bigger on the inside. Ian accidentally activates the machine, sending the group to an alien world. They land in a petrified forest destroyed long ago in an atomic war, and spot a city in the distance.

Image description: Wide shot of petrified forest in green lighting. The four main cast stand in centre frame, beside Tardis.

Outside Tardis, Susan gets a fright when a stranger tries to approach her. Shortly after, the group finds a box of medicine left by the door of Tardis. Although the younger members of the group are keen to return home, Dr. Who lies and says there is a problem with a component of his ship, the fluid link, and insists they must go to the city to look for the materials to repair it. Once in the city, the group discover that the surface of this world is awash with radiation, and the symptoms of radiation sickness are beginning to set in. To make matters worse, they get captured by the Daleks, a race of creatures who get around in armoured personal vehicles to protect themselves from the radiation.

Image description: 7 Daleks in the foreground, looking at Dr. Who, Susan and Ian in centre frame. There is a computer bank in the background.
That central part of the computer revolves. It's a rather wonderful set piece.

The Daleks seize TARDIS’ fluid link from Dr. Who, and overhear the group discussing that the drugs they found could be their only hope to survive the radiation sickness. Coveting the drug for themselves, the Daleks order Susan to retrieve the medicine from Tardis, promising that the humans will be allowed to administer the treatment. Upon her arrival at Tardis, Susan meets Alydon (Barrie Ingham), the leader of the Thals, another group of people who live on this world. Unlike the Daleks, the Thals appear human. They went to war with the Daleks a long time ago and both their civilisations were destroyed. The Thals have come to the Dalek city because their crops have failed and they want to trade their medicine for food. Alydon gives Susan an extra box of medicine, and she returns to the city, where the Daleks allow the humans to use the spare box.

Image description: A crowd of Thals look at Alydon, second from right in the front row, as he reads a letter.
Perhaps they should have called this 'Planet of the Bad Haircuts'.

The Daleks get Susan to write a letter to the Thals inviting them to trade, but when she completes the letter the Daleks announce their intentions to betray the Thals and destroy them.

The humans manage to disable a Dalek by cutting off its power supply, and escape to warn the Thals of the ambush. Most manage to flee in time, and the humans regroup with the Thals at their camp, where after some goading from Dr. Who and Ian, the pacifistic Thals agree to strike back at the Daleks. However, the attack fails, and Dr. Who and Susan are recaptured.

Image description: On the left Dr. Who and Susan stand together under a beam of light. On the right is a black Dalek.

Ian, Barbara and Alydon try a different way into the city, travelling through dangerous swampland and over a mountain to infiltrate the city from the rear, following the water pipes. Once inside, they regroup with the rest of the Thals, who launched an attack to rescue Dr. Who and Susan. The Daleks are about to detonate another atomic bomb to make the planet uninhabitable for the Thals, but the humans and Thals manage to stop them in time, with Ian tricking the Daleks into destroying their own machinery. Dr. Who recovers the fluid link, and with Tardis repaired and the Daleks defeated, the humans say their farewells and leave for Earth.

Image description: In the foreground, the four main cast members shake hands with a number of Thals. There are more Thals in the background.

What’s The Difference?

So far so identical. There’s been a bit of a change in the setup, with Susan becoming much younger, and Ian and Barbara are no longer her teachers. I suppose it makes sense, given that otherwise the film would have to devote time to explaining why an old man and a young girl are dragging a couple of teachers around time and space. In addition I would imagine there would be additional legal hoops to jump through in order to adapt that aspect of An Unearthly Child.

Image description: Dr. Who, Barbara, Susan and Ian inside TARDIS. There are many wires hanging down and a lot of scientific equipment.

It makes sense, yes, but do I like it? Not especially. In changing Ian and Barbara’s relationship to the Doctor and Susan, the dynamic of the group changes. There was a palpable divide between the teachers and the strange people with their blue box. It created an interesting internal tension because Ian and Barbara weren’t sure how much they could trust the Doctor, who at that point did not much care for them, either. This tension is absent here, with the gang being chummy from the outset. I think this could have been handled better as it’s far less interesting.

In the grand scheme of things though, it’s not that bad. It’s weaker than the original, but the dynamic still works in the context of its own film. What is bad, however, is what’s been done to the characters. I could have named this section ‘Who are you, and what have you done with Ian Chesterton’. Oh, Ian. Poor, poor Ian. It’s not merely that he is different from his television counterpart. That, I could cope with, if his character wasn’t a paper-thin lacklustre hammily-acted dim-witted sad attempt at comic relief.

Image description: Close-up shot of Roy Castle as Ian Chesterton.
The single dignified shot of him in the whole film.

This is not Ian Chesterton. He has the same name but that is literally all he has in common with his television counterpart. Well, unless you count having his legs paralysed by the Daleks. This Ian is just an absolute buffoon, and he stays that way the whole film, apart from one singular moment at the end when he tricks the Daleks. Even if I were to pretend the original didn’t exist, and judge the film purely on its own merits (which I am trying to do, up to a certain point), he would still be a flat, static character.

Image description: Close-up shot of Jennie Linden as Barbara
I swear her hair gets a little bigger every time she goes off-camera.

So, what of Barbara? Well, Barbara’s just sort of…there. She exists. You could cut her out of the film and I don’t believe anything would change. So that’s two strikes, one for bad adaptation, and another for just a bad character in general.

Image description: Close-up shot of Roberta Tovey as Susan.

Which brings us to Susan. Or as she’s usually called in the film, Susie. Susie is an interesting case. When she was first introduced, I confess that I found her quite annoying, as she sounded like she’d swallowed a thesaurus every time she opened her mouth. However I did warm to her as the film went on, as she adapted to her situation and faced every challenge head-on. Despite being younger, she’s a good deal braver than her television counterpart, and that is a change I welcome.

And now for the biggie. Dr. Who. I’m going to be pedantic for a moment. Well, I’m always pedantic, but I’m going to be extra pedantic. I don’t like calling him Dr. Who. Yes, I know it’s the name of the television programme. Yes, I also know that that is the character’s name in the credits. But I think we can all agree that this man is not literally called Dr. Who. It just sounds wrong. Still, I admit there’s no actual concrete reason I can give to explain my disdain for this choice of nomenclature other than ‘I just don’t like it’.

Image description: Close-up shot of Peter Cushing as Dr. Who.

Dr. Who and the Doctor are two markedly different characters. Even now, at his considerably softened state, Hartnell’s Doctor would look prickly as a porcupine next to Cushing’s Doctor Who. If we compare the version of the Doctor who appeared in The Daleks, it's like night and day.

There’s nothing wrong with Cushing’s performance. In fact, he’s very charming and Dr. Who has a likeable and warm personality which will no doubt be immediately endearing to viewers. In fact, I think that’s likely the reason for the change. The Doctor, in his earliest appearances, was not an easy character to like. Grumpy, often selfish, and just plain difficult all around, the original Doctor would not have translated well into his big-screen counterpart. At least, not without forcing through character development so fast it’d give you whiplash to keep the viewers on-side.

Image description: In the foreground, Dr. Who kneels with Alydon and examines some writing on a stone. In the background Barbara, Ian and Susan sit together. Tardis is visible in the distance.

Not faithful enough, or too faithful?

My answer? It's both. Though there are numerous character changes, as noted above, the plot of the film is identical to the plot of the serial. One the one hand, I do appreciate when a film is faithful to the story of its source material. However, this becomes a problem when the entire plot is lifted beat-for-beat from a serial with a total runtime of about 175 minutes and crushing it down to fit an 81-minute film.

There’s no room for the plot to breathe. There’s no room for the thoughtful, meditative conversations on the philosophy of pacifism. The original serial took the time to examine the Thals’ dedication to pacifism, and the process to convince them of the need to challenge the Daleks was long and slow, as you would expect when trying to convince a whole society to cast aside their deepest and most dearly-held belief. Here, the Thals get over the whole pacifism thing in the course of a single scene. It completely flattens them and takes the thoughtfulness out of the conflict, a thoughtfulness which was one of my favourite parts of the original.

In addition, having less time to convey information, this film is heavy on the exposition. Very, very heavy. Daleks have a bad habit of explaining their plans to each other for no reason, but this takes it to a new level. Barely a scene goes by without a character practically grabbing the camera and delivering a lecture on the history of this conflict. It is very tiresome.

Image description: Exterior of the Dalek city. Three Daleks emerge from three doors on a raised platform. Below them, there are bright lights, and four people shield their eyes from them below.

It’s Not All Bad, Though.

No, really. There’s something I can’t complain about and would dearly love to see on television: the production value. The sets for this film don’t require any generous suspension of disbelief to be believable – they just are. Well-designed lighting drenches the petrified forest in an eerie light, giving the area a sickly appearance that makes the Dalek city, by contrast, look warm and welcoming. However, the lighting in the city is stark and harsh, as are the Daleks. The sets are well-made and the colour choices are cohesive and visually pleasing, though I’m not certain that the Daleks would be terribly fond of the colour pink.

The Daleks themselves take full advantage of the upgrade to full-colour, with their shells appearing in a veritable rainbow of hues. Production photos and promotional materials reveal that the original Daleks are surprisingly colourful too, and it would genuinely delight me to see the programme in full colour, should the BBC begin broadcasting in colour within the programme’s lifetime.

Image description: Susan stands under a beam of light midshot, surrounded by 5 Daleks of varying colours. (From left to right: Blue, Red, Black, Blue, Blue.)

I also approve of the much fuller soundtrack of the film, as opposed to the quite sparse use of music in the serials. That said it does veer a little James Bond-ish at times, and I’d rather Dr. Who stayed well away from that sort of thing, thank you very much.

I admire how the serials manage to stretch their budget, but I would love it if the BBC would give the production team more to work with, so that we might bring visual treats like this into our living rooms a bit more often.

It’s not very likely, but a girl can dream.

That said, what on Earth (or Skaro) did they do to the TARDIS?! The interior looks like more of a junkyard than the one from An Unearthly Child. They even did away with the round things on the walls!

Image description: In the foreground there is a lot of scientific equipment and wires dangling from the ceiling. Ian looks into the room through the door of Tardis in the background.
They even got rid of the central console!

Final Thoughts

So, I’ve spent quite a bit of time comparing this film to the serial on which it is based. I had originally told myself, when I set out to write this, that I wouldn’t do that, that I would judge it purely on its own merits. However, having seen how identical it is to the original in many aspects, how could I not put the changes under a magnifying glass?

Adaptation is an inherently transformative process. On that I think we can all agree. The act of transplanting a story from one medium into another is always going to result in changes from the source material. Changes, in and of themselves, are not a bad thing. Take Sherlock Holmes. That’s been adapted to hell and back a thousand times since it was written and will be written to hell and back a thousand times more. Even take the legend of King Arthur. That’s been adapted so many times nobody knows what the original is. The aim with adaptation is not to avoid changes entirely. Changes can be good. They can add complexity to a character, depth to a plot. However, when changes flatten a character, then we have a problem. And additionally a reluctance to change can, as I described earlier, be to the detriment of an adaptation. It’s a delicate matter so perhaps you will forgive me my nitpicking. On the whole, do I think the changes made were justified? No. Dr. Who And The Daleks is a weak, rushed, flat story with flat characters and an abrupt and unsatisfying conclusion.

It might have higher production values and shinier sets, but there is something hollow at the heart of Dr. Who And The Daleks. Something was lost on the way to the big screen, and that’s enough for me to recommend that you steer clear of this film when it premieres. A far better use of your time would be to pick up David Whitaker’s novelisation of The Daleks, which comes out in paperback in October (though there is a hardback version already available, if you can get your hands on it).

As for me, I think I’m getting quite sick of Daleks, and I'm eager to turn my attention back to the Doctor Who we know and love.

1.5 out of 5 stars




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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[July 4, 1965]: Hoode Hoode Hoo (Doctor Bloodmoney by Philip K. Dick)

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By Jason Sacks

With a Bang

Today is Independence Day, traditionally celebrated with a dazzling pyrotechnic display. And so it is appropriate that the book I'm sharing with you today deals with the biggest bang humanity can make: the atomic bomb.

Doctor Bloodmoney by Philip K. Dick is an astonishing book.

I use astonishing in all its meanings: it's surprising, it's impressive, it's full of constant surprises, and Dr. Bloodmoney left me a bit breathless when I finished it.

This is also a weird book. Even for Philip K. Dick, who has written some of the oddest science fiction books in recent years (heck, just look at my review of his Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldrich for one very recent example), this book is… well, very strange indeed.

But that strangeness makes it endearing, and a compulsive page turner, and, oh heck, let's just dive into my uncategorized thoughts.

How We Got Along Before the Bomb

Many of Philip Dick's short stories and novels start after the atom bomb is dropped and mankind is looking to pick up the pieces. For instance, his outstanding Penultimate Truth delivers a post-atomic world of claustrophobic underground  burrows and vast overground demesnes.

Dick takes a different approach with Dr. Bloodmoney, setting up the world before the bomb drops with three chapters depicting what seem to be rather prosaic events. We witness a strange man visit a psychologist, see a vaguely annoyed salesman, watch a phocomelus achieve his dream job of fixing TV sets. All this scene setting feels  normal and yet also weirdly off-kilter, as if the world is about to change and as if all this seeming normalcy is about to get swept away and as if the characters, deep in their beings, need that normalcy to be swept away in a way that it will never be resurrected.

As always with Dick, however, that apparent normalcy is an illusion, a lie people tell themselves to prevent themselves from madness. Dick's characters are almost always miserable and complicated. They are obsessed with existential doubt and a general frustration at their positions in the world. For one relevant instance, the man going to the psychologist is named Bruno Bluthgeld, who has good reason to need help. As his psychologist realizes in a moment of epiphany:

This is Bruno Bluthgeld, the physicist. And he is right; a lot of people both here and in the East would like to get their hands on him because of his miscalculation back in 1972. Because of the terrible fallout from the high-altitude blast, which wasn't supposed to hurt anyone; Bluthgeld's figures proved it in advance.

The salesman, Stuart McConchie by name, is also deeply unhappy for reasons around envy, ambition and stymied luck due to race (McConchie is black, a fact the book dwells on to its detriment). Dr. Bloodmoney opens with McConchie sweeping the sidewalk in front of the shop he works at. All the while he ponders the misery of Bluthgeld and feels vague jealousy for the happiness of the phocomelus.

That Thalidomide baby is named Hoppy Harrington, and we soon find out he's one of the few characters in this novel who's not filled with miserable existential doubts. Hoppy seems to have telekinetic powers like Manfred Steiner in Dick's great Martian Time-Slip, and we see him fix appliances without having to use his cumbersome metal arms.  Hoppy's powers will take on more importance after the inevitable atom bomb drops.

How We Got Along During the Bomb

Dick's depiction of the events while the bombs are dropping is typical for him: weird, astonishing and striking for its subjective way of depicting the nuclear holocaust.

As the bombs are dropping over Dick's beloved Berkeley, we witness each character's reactions to the events. I was especially struck by this interior monologue from the psychologist Doctor Stockstill:

And then, in the middle of his cursing, he had a weird, vivid notion. The war had begun and they were being bombed and would probably die, but it was Washington dropping bombs on them, not the Chinese or the Russians; something had gone wrong with an automatic defense system out in space, and it was acting out its cycle this way — and no one could halt it, either. It was war and death, yes, but it was error; it lacked intent.

Even as people flee the city in terror, have a final, quick, end-of-the world-so-why-not sexual fling in the back of a car, and consider their futures, still it is clear to these characters that this calamity is the result of a simple accident. It seems to be random chance, a bug in the military's ENIAC that triggers the bombs. Considering we all have the near-death experience of the Cuban Missile Crisis in our recent memories, this "friendly fire" experience is even more terrifying.

And yet, this is a Phil Dick novel we're talking about here, so nothing is quite as simple as it seems.

How We Got Along After the Bomb

In the world after the bomb drops, the most astonishing thing is how normal things feel for readers — at least at the beginning of that segment of the story. It is seven years after E Day, as the people call the day of the holocaust, and the world has been changed in innumerable ways.  Rats are smart, cats gather in gangs, dogs can talk, and the people are barely getting by on a subsistence basis.

This section of the book focuses on a small community in Marin County which includes most of the characters from earlier in the book. McConchie is part of the town, still working as a salesman, and is miserable (we witness a deeply humiliating failure he has trying to buy electronics early in this segment of the story). Dr. Bluthgeld is in the town, under an assumed name, living with his existential misery. The couple who had furtive sex, Bonny Keller and Andrew Gill, also live in the area. Gill has become a kind of cigarette magnate while Keller has become a kind of civic leader. Bonny became pregnant during her tryst with Andrew, and she gave birth to a very strange set of twins who become central to the story's plot.

Hoppy Harrington is also in Marin, working as the town's all-around fix-up man. In a weird way, the Bomb has made Hoppy's disabilities more normal. In a world in which few people escaped deep scarring from the bombs, Harrington is no longer an outcast as a man with no arms or legs. Instead, as a trusted oracular figure, he's able to be content and grow arrogant in his place in the world. It's striking that one of the few characters in this novel – heck, one of the few characters in Dick so far – who is genuinely happy  turns out to be the antagonist of the novel.

Central to the novel is the one character outside of the small Marin County village. Walt Dangerfield had been on his way to Mars when the bombs fell. Trapped orbiting the Earth, his folksy way of speaking ("Hoode Hoode Hoo! Now let me give you a tip on how to store gladiola bulbs all through the winter without fear of annoying pests.") and love of sharing reading to a world desperate for entertainment, Dangerfield unites the world to listen to his voice like FDR used to unite us all with his fireside chats.

It's in this section of the novel that I found myself more and more enraptured in the world Dick creates. In his beautifully flat and unadorned style, Dick is brilliant at conveying character with just a few words. Emotions, motivations, passions and fears seem to radiate off the page from these characters. It feels like Dick wrote in a frenzy, these characters living in three dimensions in his vastly creative mind. Characters grow, change, evolve. McConchie slowly becomes content; Hoppy slowly becomes resentful; the twins grow from being an oddball curiosity to the moral centers of this tale. There's a sense of plot, character and setting oozing out between words, a parallel universe Dick sees through his imagination's gateway. Though this is a short book, it carries the heft of a book twice its length, and in the West Marin township, Dick slowly and shambolically leads to a fascinating conclusion in which Hoppy's ambitions prove to be his tragic fall like a Greek hero too filled with pride.

Some readers may not love the way the main plot of the story mainly wraps up offscreen, but the events leading up to it are rendered so beautifully by Dick that I scarcely cared. There is a scene near the end of this novel, depicted through the eyes of an owl, that was so lyrical that for a moment I thought I was reading Ray Bradbury instead of Philip K. Dick.

In The End

This is the fifth Dick book to be released in the last 18 months. It appears the man's work continues to improve. I was deeply moved and impressed by this novel. The characters are vivid, the events powerful, and Dick's wonderfully subjective way of showing action is unique in my experience. Dr. Bloodmoney is an astonishing achievement.

5 stars, and for me this is the leading candidate for the Hugo Award for Best Novel so far this year.

Above I described Dick's writing as beautifully flat and unadorned, and that's true, but this book also ends on a lovely note which speaks to the curious optimism and faith in the human spirit which runs throughout this book.

The business of the day had begun. All around her the day was awakening, back once more into its normal life.

In the wake of an atom bomb, life slowly returns to its new normal. Humanity will bounce back from even the worst we can imagine. It's hard to get more optimistic than that. In these troubled times, we all need to be reminded to be optimistic.

On the subject of books, please go to this article and give it a read. It's as important now as it was when it was posted — perhaps more. It's been a tough few months.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[July 2, 1965] Gallimaufry (August 1965 IF)

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by David Levinson

A gallimaufry is a kind of stew. Like any stew, it’s composed of a bunch of things thrown together and so has also come to mean any sort of hodge-podge. Since I haven’t been able to come up with some sort of overarching theme this month (and perhaps because, as I write this, I skipped lunch and it’s a couple of hours until dinner), let’s just look at the mish-mash of things that caught my eye (and ear) this month.

The British Invasion continues

On June 12th, the Beatles were named Members of the British Empire. That’s the lowest level of honor granted by the British government, but unsurprisingly a lot of old fuddy-duddies are unhappy with popular musicians being so honored. Member of the Canadian House of Commons Hector Dupuis complained, “British royalty has put me on the same level as a bunch of vulgar numbskulls.” According to my research, apart from seven and a half years in the Canadian Parliament, Mr. Dupuis’ main contribution to society is selling insurance. I’m not sure he’s the one who ought to be complaining about the comparison.


James P. McCartney, George Harrison, John W. Lennon and Richard Starkey showing their medals. You didn’t think his parents named him Ringo, did you?

Sticking with music for the moment, lately I’ve really been enjoying For Your Love by the Yardbirds. It’s a catchy little number that’s been moving up the charts the last few weeks and unusually features a harpsichord. The band took over as the house band at the Crawdaddy Club in Richmond, England when the Rolling Stones went on to bigger things and then acted as the backing band for Sonny Boy Williamson when he toured Great Britain in early 1964. They’ve had a bit of airplay with some old blues numbers, but this is their first real hit. Alas, one man’s meat is another man’s poison. One of their guitarists, a young man by the name of Eric Clapton, has left the band, unhappy with the move to a more commercial sound. He’s since been replaced by Jeff Beck. Let’s hope that Mr. Clapton is content with the relative obscurity of the blues scene.

The Miracles of Technology

On June 14th, a test planned by American and French doctors and communications experts sent an electrocardiogram from a ship at sea to a hospital in France. The ECG was taken from a passenger aboard the SS France in the Atlantic Ocean and transmitted via facsimile machine first to Cornell University hospital, then RCA Communications, Intelsat, D'Liaisons Radiotelephotographiques de France and then to Boucicaut Hospital in Paris. The image that arrived in France was clear enough for doctors to use for diagnosis. Look for this technique to be used in earnest in the future.


Facsimile technology has been used in meteorology for several years. Its use in remote diagnostic medicine shows promise.

Eppur si muove

The British journal Nature dated June 19th included a paper by astronomers Gordon Pettengill and Rolf Dyce titled "A Radar Determination of the Rotation of the Planet Mercury". They have determined that the planet Mercury is not tidally locked to the sun, but rather has a rotation period of approximately 59 days. That means a day on Mercury is about two-thirds as long as its year. Bad news for Larry Niven, whose very first story, “The Coldest Place”, hinged on the planet always showing the same face to the sun, but those are the breaks in the science fiction game.

An IFfy stew

Speaking of science fiction (and the magazine Niven first appeared in) what is Fred Pohl putting on our plate in this month’s IF? Let’s take a look at the ingredients.


Retief makes his way across town. Art by Gaughan

Trick or Treaty, by Keith Laumer

Things are looking grim for the Terran cause on the planet Gaspierre. The planetary parliament is set to decide if they’re going to be neutral, on the side of the Terries, or support the warlike Krultch, and the presence of a Krultch warship heavily outweighs that of the CDT mission under Ambassador Sheepshorn. Anti-Terry riots are blowing up all over, and Krultch soldiers walk the streets with impunity.

We open with Retief using his usual good relations with the locals to get lodgings for a troupe of Terran entertainers (if four people can be said to constitute a troupe). On his way back to the embassy, Retief cripples a couple of Krultch soldiers (they did start it) and learns from the local police that the Terrans are confined to their embassy until the ambassador is due to make his speech to parliament. After a brief consultation with the ambassador, Retief escapes the embassy, makes his way across town and enlists the aid of the entertainers in tossing a monkey wrench in the Krultch plans. Will he succeed in tipping the balance in Earth’s favor? Of course, the only question is how. Will he win the favors of the lovely, red-headed acrobat with the tattoo? Unusually, no, or at least not on the page.


The Krultch captain gets the drop on Retief. Right where Retief wants him. Art by Gaughan

I’m on record as a fan of Retief, but even I have to admit that things are getting a little stale. To carry on with the stew analogy, this is an onion that’s gone a little spongy or a rubbery carrot. The means by which Retief and friends take the wind from the Krultch’s sails are deeply improbable, bordering on the ridiculous. On the plus side, Ambassador Sheepshorn is one of the best names Laumer has come up with in ages. Is that Sheeps-horn or Sheep-shorn? I suspect that the ambassador and the author have very different opinions on that. In any case, long-time readers of the series will likely find this one a bit dull, though newcomers might enjoy it more. However, it’s not the best entry point for the series. A low three stars.

Against the Odds, by John Brunner

On the planet Galrex, an apparent crank is making a scene outside the office of the Superintendent of Galactic Records, warning that the human race is in danger. Superintendent Motice Bain emerges from his office and agrees to listen to the man’s concerns.

Falkirk, as his name proves to be, once planned to make a career in archaeology studying the vanished civilization of the planet Gorgon. The story goes that the natives of Gorgon had learned to manipulate luck and ultimately bored themselves to death. The planet was originally found three or four hundred years earlier by one of the pioneering starscouts, Morgan Wade, who supposedly figured out the lost secret and ultimately became extremely wealthy. Eight or nine years before the time of the story and before Falkirk could go to Gorgon and begin digging, a starship made an emergency landing on the planet. It took several weeks for a needed spare part to arrive, but once the ship was repaired the crew managed to destroy all that was left of the ancient civilization when taking off. Now every member of that crew is the ruler of a planet. Falkirk is convinced that these ten men are going to take over the galaxy.

Using the example of the birthday problem, which shows that it takes a remarkably small number of people to ensure that two members of the group share a birthday, Bain points out to Falkirk that in a galaxy of two trillion people, it isn’t that unlikely for ten of them to become important. After a despondent Falkirk leaves, Bain gets down to business.

There’s a twist at the end of this tale that anybody who has been reading science fiction for more than a handful of years can see coming. It’s a reasonably well told story, but a far cry from the more modern sort of stories that Brunner is capable of writing. Apparently, IF is where he sends his more old-fashioned work. It’s not bad, it’s just not anything special. Three stars.

We Hunters of Men, by Bruce McAllister

Edmond Reud is out hunting scalps when he is attacked by another hunter. He kills the attacker and takes the other man’s scalp. Ignoring the “mind-prickling” that urges him to go toward the Minced Mountain, which touches the ocher-colored sky, he returns to the underground city to exchange his scalps for pellets. Eventually, he reaches the Minced Mountain and meets an old man trapped there by a broken leg. Without pellets, the old man has had his long-term memory return. Together, they solve the mystery of the “mind-prickling”.

Interspersed throughout this are naval communiques between a ship orbiting the planet Tinni and Base Roquefort. It seems that Tinni was one of twelve planets beset by the Judicians, who managed to close the planet in a charge field when they lost the war. The navy believes that the Judicans’ weapons were destroyed, but because they are physically weak they must have found some way to control the human population. They did manage to get a device through the field which will home in on charge field generators and send out cortex wave emissions to get humans to come and tinker with the generators.


The scalper scalped. Art by Giunta

This is McAllister’s second story, and it’s not very good. Clearly the pellets affect memory and are addictive, giving the Judicians a way to get the humans to kill each other, but I fail to see how the system was originally imposed. Further the tonal shift between the two narratives is rather jarring. That on the planet is somewhat grim and rather fitting to the circumstances, while the naval communiques are rather light and a bit jokey. On the other hand, McAllister is only 18 and does show some raw talent. If he spends some time working at his craft and honing his skills he could be a decent writer down the line. But this story? Two stars.

The Crater, by J. M. McFadden

Insurance investigator Johnny Andrews appears to be on vacation in Hawaii. Actually, he’s on the trail of a group that has hijacked two shipments of irillium somewhere between the asteroids (at a guess, it’s never specified) and landing at the docks in North Africa. Waikiki is a good spot to observe the ships entering parking orbit and firing their retrorockets for landing. He figures he’s on the right track, since a couple of suspicious characters have started watching him.

After observing the next hijacking from out beyond the surf line, he manages to get pictures of the two goons, but they grab him before he can contact his home office. He’s bundled into an interisland subway and taken to Wailuku, the main city on the rather rural island of Maui. Johnny escapes and takes refuge in Fenner’s Grill, the best Mexican restaurant in the islands run by a fellow of Chinese extraction who goes by the name Manuel. From Manuel (who is seemingly related to everyone on the island), Johnny learns of the mysterious group which has taken over the ranch in Haleakala crater. With Manuel’s help, he infiltrates the ranch and sets out to thwart the hijackers for good.


Manuel and Johnny discover some really high tech cattle ranching. Art by Nodel

McFadden is this month’s first-time author. According to Fred Pohl, he’s a former naval officer and has already sold another story to IF. Beginning authors are often advised “Write what you know.” I’d bet that McFadden spent a fair amount of time stationed in Hawaii and was likely a radar officer. Anyway, this one was a rather fun adventure tale with a good dose of humor. Maybe a bit of Keith Laumer influence here. Also Manuel is a great sidekick who feels like a real islander without being an offensive stereotype. Three stars.

Patron of the Arts, by Fred Saberhagen

As the Berserker fleet closed in on Sol, the artistic treasures of Earth were loaded aboard the museum ship Franz Hals to be carried to safety at Tau Epsilon. Aboard are a two man crew and famous artist Piers Herron, a man who has lost all interest in living and with it his ability to create. The ship is captured by a Berserker and the crew killed, but Herron is kept alive for observation. He attempts to paint the Berserker and he and the Berserker, using one of its smaller remote units, discuss the meaning of art on the basis of Titian’s Man with a Glove.

Herron tries to capture his captor, while the subject looks on. Art by Gaughan

I mentioned above that Retief is getting stale. Saberhagen has certainly avoided that problem in his Berserker series. Each of the stories has been very different, even when the settings have been similar, such as one or more people being held captive by the great killing machines. That’s most likely because these stories are really about people. In the hands of many other authors, this series would be one massive space battle after another, while with Saberhagen the one story that actually was about a space battle had a tight focus on some of the people involved.

This is an ambitious story, and while that ambition carries it a long way, it doesn’t quite hit the mark. There’s a subplot about a stowaway that really doesn’t work. If Roger Zelazny wrote a Berserker story, this might well be it, and he might have gotten all the way to where Saberhagen was trying to take it. A high three stars, and I mourn what could have given it that fourth.

Skylark DuQuesne (Part 3 of 5), by E. E. Smith

As DuQuesne watches, Dick Seaton launches a brutal counterattack against the mysterious force that struck at the end of the last episode. The Skylark of Valeron, grievously damaged, beats a hasty retreat, and DuQuesne slinks away toward Earth. Seaton has identified their attackers as Chlorans, the bad guys from the last book. Apparently, intelligent life which develops on any Earthlike (or Tellus-type, as Smith would have it) world will be human. They might be green or squat and hairless, but still human. Any intelligent life that develops on a world with a chlorine atmosphere will be Chlorans, and so on. Look, if you shout at every bit of nonsense science in this thing, you’ll lose your voice and probably frighten your neighbors. Just go with it.


The Skylark of Valeron takes a licking and keeps on ticking. Art by Gray Morrow

Seaton hatches a plan to find an enslaved human world in the Chloran controlled galaxy and find or create a resistance. That will give the Skylarkers a base of operations to fight the Chlorans. Naturally, all of the men volunteer to be the one to go down and carry out the plan while all of their wives object. They leave the choice of the best person to the ship’s Brain. It, of course, chooses Seaton. He goes down to the planet chosen by the Brain, meets the resistance, turns them into an effective fighting force and snatches the planet from the clutches of those humans who willingly serve their Chloran masters.

Meanwhile, DuQuesne returns to Earth and looks up Stephanie “Hunkie” de Marigny, brilliant scientist and the one woman who can come close to piercing the armor of cynicism and disdain he’s wrapped himself in. While his agents buy up all the materials he needs to build his own Valeron, Blackie and Hunkie go on a date (Dutch at her insistence). Afterwards, he hotfoots it off to the opposite side of the universe from the Chloran galaxy, finds an uninhabited Earthlike world and, using the plans he got from Seaton, builds his new ship, which he dubs the DQ.


Dick Seaton settles a labor dispute with his foreman. Art by Gray Morrow

Although the “wherefores” continue to fly, this installment is a small step up from last month. In fact, the stuff involving Seaton setting up his resistance movement actually isn’t all that bad. Of course, Smith crams a novel’s worth (or at least a novella’s) of material into 15 or 20 pages. DuQuesne also moves back toward being a slightly more complex villain than he was last time. Two stars.

Summing Up

So, what does the dish that Fred Pohl has given us look like overall? A couple of ingredients that aren’t as fresh as they might be, but are still acceptable; a couple of tasty morsels, not quite gourmet but good; one that’s not very good, but under normal circumstances would be drowned out by the other ingredients; and then there’s the giant lump of meat that’s really gone off at the end. Outside of Skylark, there does seem to be a slight uptick in quality over the way things have been over the last year or so. That or Skylark is making the rest of the stuff look good by comparison.

Every cloud, so they say, has a silver lining. Skylark has been a big black cloud lowering over IF for a while and will continue to do so for a couple of months. The demands it has made on space (originally intended to be just three installments) has made the editorial team take a look at some of their production procedures. Starting next month IF will have 32 more pages in every issue. Fred says that’s enough for two more novelettes, four or five short stories, a complete short novel, or an extra serial installment. Best of all, the price is staying at 50¢. Five months of Doc Smith is a heavy price to pay, and 32 pages isn’t going to make up for Amazing and Fantastic going bimonthly and running more reprints, but it’s a step in the right direction.




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Magazine

[June 30, 1965] Every Day has its Dog (July 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Hail the Sun God

Summer has officially begun.

On June 21, 1965, the northern hemisphere of Earth enjoyed its longest period of daylight (while in Australia, poor fellow traveler, Kaye Dee suffered through the longest night). The Summer Solstice is an event that once had great religious significance, but as the Mosaic religions spread across the globe, celebration of the day waned.

Today, with the rise of neo-druidism (the North American version of it having been related in articles by Erica Frank), the Solstice has once again become a holy day. And 1965's was particularly special: as the Fraternal Order of Druids gathered around Stonehenge, they were treated to the first uncloudy sunrise in 13 years.

With such an auspicious sign, one might expect that June (July cover date) would be a good one for science fiction magazines. Instead, what we got was a dreary muchness that was more akin to the overcast skies of prior Solstices. And no magazine more exemplifies this drabness than this month's Analog:

Noonday Overcast


by John Schoenherr

Trader Team (Part 1 of 2), by Poul Anderson


by John Schoenherr

Poul Anderson is the Cepheid variable of the science fiction genre: he pulses from brilliance to dullness with regularity. In the midpoints, he produces competent but longwinded stuff like the Van Rijn tales, which detail the exploits of a canny Terran trader trying to enhance his fortune in the Galactic "Polesotechnic League."

Trader Team features David Falkayn, a young cadet we last saw in the mediocre Three-Cornerned Wheel. Thanks to the ingenuity he displayed in that story, Falkayn has been tapped to be Van Rijn's apprentice, his first mission to open up trade on the backward planet of Ikrananka.

The story starts crackingly, introducing the four members of the crew of the Muddlin' Through: Falkayn, the young Captain; Chee, a furry, imprecation-throwing female from planet Cynthia; Adzel, the gentle saurian neo-Buddhist from Woden; and "Muddlehead", the ship's computer. The ship has been in virtual quarantine for several weeks as no representative of the planet's local feudal state will approach them.

Then, in the midst of an intense poker game, Falkayn espies a beautiful woman soldier fleeing from a troop of Ikranankan cavalry. He saves her and brings her aboard ship only to discover that he has given aid to a fugitive of the very polity he is trying to establish relations with!

So far so good, but the next thirty pages are a drag. There's some nice scientific worldbuilding, in which we learn Ikrananka is a one-face planet, that Stepha (the saved soldier) is one of the third generation of spacewrecked humans who now, as a race, hire themselves out as mercenaries, and that Ikrananka would make a nice planet for trade if only its disparate fiefdoms could be unified.

But the story itself meanders in that wordy, shaggy dog style that Poul defaults to when he's on autopilot. The scene in which Adzel gets roaringly drunk and then implicated in a human insurrection is played for laughs, but it's just tedious. When Chee is captured, too, the reaction it elicits is a yawn rather than concern.

And if I have to read another line about what Falkayn thinks of Stepha's physical form, I'll throw the book against the wall. It'd also be nice to see more non-romantic female characters in general (though I will concede that Chee being female is a step in the right direction).

A low three stars.

In the Light of Further Data, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

Data is an Anvil story in a Campbell-edited mag, so caveat emptor.

And your caution is justified. Data is a story in newspaper article excerpts of two intersecting threads. The first is the development of a miracle tissue regrowth process that quickly recruits millions of patients seeking replacements for lost teeth. The second is the battle between a professor who asserts that science is the foundation of truth, and the religious community who pushes back on the assertion.

In the end, said professor cheerfully gets a new mouth of choppers, just as it's determined that there is a fatal flaw in the regrowth technique. The punchline is he quits science and becomes a missionary.

The moral, I assume, is that those eggheads don't know everything. It's certainly a philosophy Campbell has flogged to death.

Anyway, it's a dumb story. Two stars.

Hands Full of Space, by Stephen A. Kallis, Jr.

We get a respite of sorts in the nonfiction article. It's about the difficulties of engineering for the intense harshness of space. Kallis tells us what happens to electronic components when exposed to zero pressure — they weld to each other, their surfaces vaporize and then coat other surfaces — and then there's the wear of hellish radiation and the danger from whizzing micrometeoroids.

It's all very informative and accessible, if a bit long and occasionally disjointed. When Analog's science piece is better than Ley's in Galaxy and Asimov's in F&SF, you know the world is truly inconstant!

Four stars.

Soupstone, by Gordon R. Dickson


by John Schoenherr

Here's another ingenue spaceman saves the day story. Soupstone is the sequel to Sleight of Wit, in which a clever human defeats an alien adversary largely by virtue of said alien being implausibly dim.

This time, Major Hank Shallo is sent to Crown World as a special trouble-shooter. The problem he must solve involves a crop of alien oversized grapes that would produce a most exquisite brandy in tremendous quantities if only they could keep them from rotting in the warehouses. It's all a matter of timing in the picking process, you see.

Shallo, an inept buffoon, is unable to solve the problem himself, but he is able to gather all the folks together who can solve the problem, and in doing so, sets them on their way to effecting the solution. And if you know the fable about making soup from a stone (I did) then you get the reference. And if you don't, don't worry — Dickson explains it for you.

Dickson is capable of much better than these "funny" stories, and once again, the ladies are included just for leering.

Two stars.

The Adventure of the Extraterrestrial, by Mack Reynolds


by John Schoenherr

It is rare that the science fiction and mystery genres overlap. Asimov's R. Daneel Olivaw tales and Garrett's Lord Darcy series pretty much round out the list. In Adventure, Reynolds crosses SF with The Detective, the one and only supersleuth of Baker Street (though neither Holmes nor Watson are ever mentioned by name).

An octogenarian Holmes is engaged by the spendthrift son of a rich gentleman. The son is putatively concerned for his father's mental health as he has engaged in a Fortean obsession with aliens, which have taken up residence in London, he maintains.

Reynolds is a good writer, and he executes a fair homage to the Doyle style. But while I enjoyed the story, I found Watson's constant and repetitive harping on Holmes to be offputting. And there are only so many times I need to be reminded of Holmes' age through note of his "senility," "chortling," "blathering," "dribbling," "inanity," etc. etc. Virtually every line includes a reference, and it's overmuch.

Also, and this is a small thing, Holmes' client talks of his father's obsession with "flying saucers." The story is indisputably set in the mid-to-late 1930s. Flying saucers did not become idiomatic vogue until after the war, in astonishing concert with the arrival of jet planes and rocketships. The anachronism vexed.

Still, it's the best story of the issue. A high three stars.

Though a Sparrow Fall, by Scott Nichols

One of those conversation pieces in which the story progresses in party dialogue. Turns out that the human genetic code has been written, or at least tampered with, such that a message has been buried within. By whom, and for whom, it is not known.

There's an interesting germ of a story here, almost something Theodore L. Thomas might address in his little column in F&SF. It doesn't really go anywhere, though.

Three stars.

Delivered with Feeling, by Lawrence A. Perkins


by Kelly Freas

At last, Mr. Perkins offers up another "lone man solves the problems of an alien world" story. This one deals with a planet whose disunion into dozens of profession-castes has made it easy prey for alien raiders. Because the invading planet and Earth are party to a mutual non-aggression pact, our protagonist can provide no material aid. Instead, he simply gives them a rallying slogan, which because of the unique qualities of the subjugated race, proves sufficient to throw off the alien onslaught.

The kicker, of course, is how the protagonist hatched his scheme. It's one of those technical puzzle stories that has been the stale bread and butter of the genre for decades. It's readable and forgettable.

Three stars.

A Dim Augury

Just one magazine cracked the three-star barrier this month: Fantasy and Science Fiction with 3.2 stars. IF and Science Fantasy were inoffensive three-star issues whilst (as Mark and Kris might say) New Worlds stumbled in at just 2.7. As this month's Analog scored a 2.8, it barely misses out on being the worst of the bunch.

And what a meager bunch it is! Without Galaxy and Worlds of Tomorrow (they're bimonthlies) and since the former Goldsmith mags, Amazing and Fantastic were on hiatus this month, there really wasn't much to read. Worse yet, there was just one woman-penned piece out of the 27 fiction stories published this month.

That the magazines were all fairly unremarkable, save perhaps for the unusually decent F&SF, just goes to show that even when the Sun God makes an appearance, it doesn't always herald good fortune.

Ah well. The Sun sets, but it also rises, and each day brings promise anew…


Sunrise, Roy Lichtenstein's latest masterpiece — see, this month wasn't all bad…




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[June 28, 1965] An Hour Of My Life I Will Never Get Back (Doctor Who: The Chase [parts 4-6])

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By Jessica Holmes

The title of this article says it all, really. This serial is… well, it’s really quite something, and I don’t mean that in a good way. So, to recap: the Daleks are chasing the TARDIS through time and space, taking them to exotic places like a desert world beset by monsters, a mysterious ghost ship, and… a New York tourism hot-spot. Let's see where they wind up next.

Image description: In the foreground there is a staircase with smoking braziers. In the midground are Barbara, Ian and Vicki. The Doctor is in the background.

JOURNEY INTO TERROR

Well, here we go, I suppose. The TARDIS makes a landing in a dusty old mansion, and the Doctor drags Ian off to explore while the women make the much more sensible choice to stay near the TARDIS. The mansion is quite thoroughly spooky, infested with bats and goodness knows what else.

It doesn’t take long for things to take a creepy turn, as skeletons drop from the ceiling and ghosts rudely barge through people.

And then Frankenstein’s Monster shows up.

No, really.

Image description: In the foreground, Frankenstein's Monster is sitting up, partially covered by the sheet. In the background, Ian and the Doctor regard him with apprehension.

The Doctor and Ian find a laboratory upstairs, and within, a familiar scene: the strange machinery, the lumpy shape under the tarp. And then the monster rises, giving the pair quite the fright.

Meanwhile, downstairs…

I cannot believe I’m typing this.

Downstairs, Barbara and Vicki meet Count Dracula.

Image description: Image is of a pale man with fangs (Count Dracula)

He doesn’t do much other than introduce himself and then leave. In the time Barbara takes to see where he went, Vicki manages to disappear, and a woman appears on the balcony above to scream something unintelligible. Nope, I have no idea what her problem is.

Anyway.

Barbara leans into a moving wall because no haunted house is complete without a few secret passageways.

Upstairs, the men note that something feels strangely familiar about the house. Oh, like the numerous public domain characters running about the place?

I’ll bet you Walt Disney had something to do with this.

The Doctor comes up with a theory on this house being some sort of physical manifestation of the collective fears of humanity. I don’t know what the physical manifestation of existential dread would be, but perhaps that’s a bit too heavy for teatime telly.

If his theory is true, the Daleks shouldn’t be able to land here, seeing as it's all just a figment of the imagination.

Image description: Image is of an entrance hall. In the midground are two Daleks and their time machine.

And a couple of minutes after making his case, the Daleks land. So much for that, then.

Ian and the Doctor can't find the women downstairs, and beginning to worry they reluctantly venture back into the laboratory, where a Dalek politely asks Ian where the time travellers are.

Let’s just take a moment to process this. You mean to tell me that the Daleks have been chasing these humans across time and space for three and a half episodes, and don’t even know what they look like?

Image description: Frankenstein's Monster stands in the centre of the frame, arms outstretched.

Ian and the Doctor scarper as Frankenstein’s Monster rises to do battle with the Dalek. Now, there’s a sentence I never imagined writing. Time to place your bets, folks. Who would win, the Monster or the Dalek?

You might be surprised.

The men make it back downstairs, where they manage to meet with the women again.  Where did they go and how did they get back? Pssh, who cares? It’s time for the Hammer Horror showdown.

A Dalek arrives on scene to accost the gang, but before it gets the chance to blast them to kingdom come, Count Dracula pops out. The group make a run for it while the Dalek is distracted, Vicki stopping to warn the Count of the grave danger he’s in. Bless.

Image description: In the foreground with their backs to the camera are Vicki, Ian and Barbara, with the Doctor partially visible. In the background are Dracula and a Dalek.

However, she needn’t worry, as the Dalek’s blast does nothing at all to him. Well, I say she needn't worry, but that's not quite true. The Count's fine, but the Doctor's neglected to do a headcount and the TARDIS just left without her.

Then things really descend into madness.

As the Count repeatedly informs the Daleks ‘III AAAM COOOUNT DRAAACULA’, Frankenstein’s Monster tosses the plunger-toting menace about like dustbins, and the woman on the balcony incessantly screams gibberish. Amidst the chaos, Vicki sneaks aboard the Dalek capsule.

Image description: A man lifts a Dalek over his head.

The Daleks, realising they’re beaten, beat a hasty machine into their own capsule. So, that wild fever dream is over. What was really going on, though?

The Doctor stands by his theory, but Ian thinks a simpler explantation is more likely. Sure enough, he’s right, though he'll never know it.

The cameraman lets us in on the secret by panning the camera down to the the ticket stand for ‘Frankenstein’s House Of Horrors’, $10 entry, which further signs indicate was the highlight of the "1996 Festival of Ghana." Well, it would have been if the event hadn’t been "cancelled by Peking."

Text reads: Frankensteins (sic) House Of Horrors, Price $10

I only have more questions now.

So, anyway, aboard the TARDIS the adults eventually realise they’ve left their ward behind. Mr Chesterton and Miss Wright, I am very disappointed in you. You’re meant to be the responsible ones.

Aboard the Dalek ship, they’re in hot pursuit, and about to deploy their secret weapon: a ‘perfect’ robot copy of the Doctor.

I will get to this in a moment.

Vicki attempts to contact the TARDIS to no avail. The rest of her team are feeling tremendously guilty as well they should. However, they apparently can’t go back for her for important time-travel reasons, but if they could capture the Dalek ship, they could get her in that.

Let’s just go with it.

On the Dalek ship, the roboDoctor is almost ready. Or perhaps I should call him Roboctor? Let’s have a look at him.

Image description: A man resembling the Doctor but with different facial features stands in a dark box

A perfect copy, the Daleks insist. Sure, apart from the face, the height, the build, the general bearing, and, well, everything about him. Hartnell voices him in a very dodgy dub. I don't know why he couldn't just play the doppleganger fully.

You know what? I’m going to call it Doctor What.

The final shot rolls in as Doctor What affirms his orders to infiltrate and destroy and this time… he is played by Hartnell. I despair. Why? I just do not understand. It’s so jarring.

Stick around, we’re not done yet.

Image description: Barbara, The Doctor and Ian stand amongst giant mushrooms

THE DEATH OF DOCTOR WHO

It might well be if things carry on like this.

The TARDIS lands in a swamp populated by walking mushrooms that are scared of bright lights. That’s neat, I suppose.

There’s a trail of lights overhead, which the companions decide to follow, reasoning that this might be a decent place to fight the Daleks. The Daleks arrive soon after and decide they should kill anything that moves, because of course they do.

Vicki creeps out from hiding and flees into the swamp, promptly running into a walking mushroom. It doesn’t kill her because ‘killed by a giant mushroom’ is too embarrassing a fate to foist upon any character. The universe won't abide it.

Image description: Ian and Barbara look at the Doctor as he shows them a lit wand.

The rest of the group find a cave at the end of the trail of lights, and in it they find a sort of glowing wand which they can use to ward off the mushrooms. It’s more of a glorified torch than a weapon, but that doesn’t stop Barbara waving it about and making adorable shooty sounds.

Ian’s been toting the Doctor's device around since they left the TARDIS, but the Doctor warns everybody that they can't use it in an enclosed space. Honestly I’m not convinced that it isn’t just a transistor radio. You could do some damage if you threw it hard enough at someone’s head, I suppose.

Image description: Ian looks off into the distance, holding a box similar in appearance to a homemade transistor radio.

Vicki manages to fight off the giant mushroom because, well. It’s a mushroom. She finds the TARDIS, but it’s locked, and the mushroom is still following her. Maybe it just wants to be her friend? Consider the mushroom’s feelings, Vicki.

Having tried absolutely nothing to get out of her situation such as, I don’t know, running away and looking for the others, Vicki is all out of ideas. And as you do when you run out of ideas, she starts screaming her head off.

Though they’re probably miles away, the rest of the gang hear her, and the men run out to see what’s making that dreadful racket. With them gone, Doctor What slips into the cave.

The Doctor and Ian find Vicki unconscious with a mushroom standing over her. Now, this looks bad for the mushroom, but I have to reiterate that it’s a mushroom and probably can’t hurt anyone, unless Vicki tried eating it, I suppose. I bet she just fainted.

Doctor What continues to frustrate me as the episode keeps flipping between having him played by Hartnell and Hartnell's double. It’s just so visually confusing.

Doctor What tells Barbara that Ian’s dead, and she could try acting a little sadder if you ask me. He lures her out of the cave to look for his body, and the real Doctor and Ian come back to find her gone. While Ian goes to look for her, the Doctor stays to look after Vicki.

Image description: Vicki lies on the floor while the doctor crouches over her, feeling her forehead.

However, upon awakening to find the Doctor leaning over her, Vicki panics and hits him, thinking that he’s Doctor What. It’s then that Ian returns, and they work out what must have happened to Barbara.

Ian manages to have an appropriately horrified reaction to Barbara being in mortal danger, and runs out to look for her.

Hearing Ian calling out for her, Barbara is overjoyed to realise he’s alive, but her joy turns to horror as Doctor What attacks her. Luckily Ian’s soon on the scene and Doctor What beats a hasty retreat.

Image description: In the foreground is the Doctor with his back to the camera. Vicki, Ian and Barbara are in the midground. There is another Doctor in the background facing the first Doctor.

They return to the cave, but the gang seems to have acquired an extra Doctor.

One tries to attack the other, but Ian intervenes, to which this Doctor threatens him too. Well, that was a clever idea, wasn’t it? The very-obviously-not-Hartnell Doctor watches from the sidelines, urging Ian to destroy the ‘fake’ Doctor with a rock.

However, before Ian gets the chance (he didn’t even pause to think!), Barbara realises the deception and stops him.

Now comes the one point in the serial where there’s any point to using the double: a Doctor fight!

Image description: The two Doctors duel with their canes. The real Doctor is on the left.

Ah, but which Doctor won? Now, that would have been fun to play with, but nothing comes of it, so I’ll chalk this up as a missed opportunity.

The Daleks find the TARDIS, but come under attack by a mushroom and decide to call it a night. Meanwhile, the companions get some rest. Their presence hasn’t gone unnoticed, however. As they sleep, a camera descends from the ceiling and observes them.

Upon awakening, the companions spot a city suspended high above the canopy. It’s a nice design, very organic, so a thumbs up from me to the art department.

Image description: A cardboard miniature of a city built on large, tree-like stilts.

However, they might pay more attention to the sights at ground level, as the Daleks have found their cave.

Ian comes up with the bright idea for the Doctor to pretend to be the robot, and as the group argues over whether that’s a good idea (and decides that it’s not), the Doctor, listening in the background, heads outside to give it a go. I’m proud of him. He’d never have taken a risk like that back when he first met the Daleks, now here he goes putting himself in danger to help his friends.

Still, the companions weren’t wrong when they decided it was a bad idea, as it only takes a Dalek about ten seconds to realise that the Doctor isn’t a robot, and the Doctor flees back into the cave as the Dalek shoots at him, shaken up but unharmed. Ah, well. It was worth a try.

Image description: Ian, Barbara and Vicki support the Doctor

He’s about to use his device as a last resort when the rear wall of the cave opens up to reveal a massive Christmas tree ornament. This thing is called a Mechanoid, and it sounds like a Dalek that’s lost its voice from all the screaming. With no better options, the gang decide to follow it.

There’s one good thing I can say about this point of the serial: one more episode and it’s over!

Image description: A machine shaped like a geodesic sphere sits in a lit doorway.

THE PLANET OF DECISION

The group follow the Mechanoid into a lift, and it’s just as awkward as any time one shares a lift (or ‘elevator’ for the Americans) with a perfect stranger, with the Mechanoid ignoring any and all attempts at small talk.

The Daleks are momentarily confused to find the cave empty, but soon realise that the group must have escaped through a wall somehow.

The lift arrives at its destination on the elevated walkway, and the group begin to make their way to the city. The Mechanoid meets another Mechanoid and they perform a strange gesture which could be a greeting, but could just be a result of them being too bulbous to move past one another.

Image description: Two Mechanoids.

The Mechanoid takes them to a building and ushers them inside, where they find a bed, some scaffolding, and a man by the name of Steven Taylor. You might find him a little familiar, as his actor, Peter Purves, appeared a few episodes ago as the man from Alabama at the top of the Empire State Building.

Honestly, Steven might be the one new character in this whole serial I don’t loathe. In fact, I’d go so far as to say I really rather like him. He’s a little odd, as anyone would be after two years of isolation, but he’s a nice bloke and good-humoured.

Image description: A young man with a hopeful expression.

Steven explains that Earth decided to colonise this world about fifty years ago and sent the Mechanoids on ahead to get started on the building, but then humanity got itself involved in another war and all plans for colonisation fell by the wayside. Cool, but I have to ask how do the Mechanoids build anything? Look at them! They’re less dextrous than Daleks, and that’s saying something.

He’s been their prisoner since he crash-landed two years ago, and it looks like the companions are the new exhibits in the Mechanoids’ human zoo. Why are the Mechanoids keeping people like zoo animals? Honestly no idea.

Image description: One Dalek in the foreground facing away from the camera. Another Dalek in the background facing towards the camera, standing in a lit doorway.

The Daleks manage to get at the lift shaft and head in, despite reservations about the potential firepower of the Mechanoids. I think the Daleks might have been humbled a little by their string of misadventures.

It turns out that the scaffolding in the human pen leads up to the roof, which is unguarded. That’s all well and good, but it’s 1500 feet up. Bit of a big jump.

The Doctor finally thinks to mention that he has a functioning spaceship, giving Steven hope that they might finally escape. Ian finds a coil of cable, and while he unravels it, the Doctor reports to the girls the plan to climb down. They aren’t terribly keen, to say the least.

Image description: Barbara, Ian, the Doctor and Steven hold onto a rope that is tied around Vicki's waist. Vicki is blindfolded.

However, they don’t get chance to protest too much, as the Daleks arrive at the city for a showdown with the Mechanoids. Everyone rushes onto the roof and prepares to get going, as the Doctor primes his device, leaving a little something for the Daleks to remember him by.

They have to blindfold Vicki and tie the cable around her waist to get her down, but otherwise that part of the plan goes without a hitch as the Doctor’s device explodes and incapacitates exactly one Dalek. However, Steven realises he left his lucky stuffed panda mascot behind and rushes back into the burning building to look for it.

Oh, and the Daleks and Mechanoids fight. Being as awkward and unwieldy as the pair are, it’s about as thrilling as you’d expect. The Mechanoids do have flamethrowers though, which I suppose is neat. Honestly I’m rooting for the Daleks in this fight,  because I find the Mechanoids’ voices that annoying.

Image description: Three Mechanoids surround a Dalek.

The companions make it down to the forest floor sans Steven, and moments later the city collapses in flames.

The group make it to the Dalek time capsule, and find it empty. They’ve won.

So, what do you do with a spare time-and-space-ship? You go home in it, that’s what.

Though it seems the programme forgot about it long ago, Ian and Barbara have been trying to get back home since they first came aboard the TARDIS, hindered by circumstance and the Doctor’s dodgy piloting skills. Here’s their chance to get home, and they’re going to take it.

I am deeply, deeply annoyed that this couldn’t have come at the end of a better serial.

At least Steven turns out to be alive after all.

The Doctor is apoplectic at the suggestion of the teachers piloting the Dalek ship home, citing the immense risks involved. And, well, I think he got rather used to having them around.

It gets quite heated as Ian complains that he’s tired of all this aimless drifting through space, which is basically the Doctor’s entire way of life. The Doctor insists he’s been trying to get them home all this time, seeing as he never wanted them aboard to begin with.

Image description: In the foreground, Barbara talks to the Doctor. Both appear angry. Ian glares at the Doctor from the background.

It’s only when Vicki intervenes and reassures the Doctor that she won’t leave him alone that he finally relents and shows the teachers how to work the machine.

The Doctor and Vicki leave them to it, the Doctor saying that it’s fifty-fifty whether they make it or not. The Dalek machine dematerialises. Did they make it?

Welcome to London, 1965. Newest arrivals: Ian Chesterton and Barbara Wright.

Image description: Ian with his arm around Barbara in front of a 'No Parking' sign. Both appear very happy.

Ian sets the machine to self-destruct and then the pair run off into a photo montage in which they’re attacked by pigeons, make silly faces and just generally lark about London like a couple of drunken students. It’s sweet seeing them being so overjoyed to get back home, and when they eventually flop onto a bus seat and ask for the wrong fare, Ian has the perfect answer when the conductor asks him if he’s been living on the moon: “No, but you’re getting warm.”

The Doctor and Vicki survey them on the Space Telly, and though Vicki is thrilled to see they made it safely, the Doctor is thoroughly down in the dumps. Tearfully he admits that he shall miss Ian and Barbara, and I think my heart just broke a little bit.

Image description: Vicki and the Doctor stand in front of the Time And Space Visualiser. Vicki is smiling, but the Doctor appears morose.

Final Thoughts

I think we can all agree that that ending deserved a better serial than The Chase. Ian and Barbara deserved a better final story than The Chase. William Russell and Jacqueline Hill certainly deserved a better serial to end on.

I think I’ve gone on for long enough about this serial’s many failings: the meandering plot, the frequent slow moments, the way it renders the Daleks as more of a joke than a menace, and that’s without mentioning the Dracula in the room. Oh, and the humour's pretty weak, too.

So, that said, let’s give Ian and Barbara some love. I noted earlier that I don’t think the Doctor would have pulled his stunt with the Dalek had this situation come up back when he first met them. What changed his character for the better? Ian and Barbara. Back in The Daleks, they’d barely met him, yet they’d already stopped him from acting on his worst impulses in the previous serial, steering him away from homicide. From the start they’ve been the moral backbone of the show, supporting the Doctor as he developed one of his own. The character we see in this serial is almost an entirely different person from the selfish, grouchy man in the junkyard.

For much of the show’s run, I’ve seen Ian and Barbara as the only real adults in the group. While they were introduced to the show to give it an educational component, I think we can agree the scholarly side of that has fallen by the wayside. What didn’t, however, was the moral education they gave both the audience and the other characters. They constantly challenged the Doctor and the people they met to rise to a better standard. And although we can’t say for certain the impact they left on all the people they left behind, the result with the Doctor speaks for itself.

It would have been easy for Ian and Barbara to have become irritating and sanctimonious, but they managed to remain thoroughly likable throughout their travels. Part of that must surely go to the talent and charm of Russell and Hill, who I’m sure have long, successful careers ahead of them. They made a fantastic pair. Though I’m sad to see them both go, I must admit that it makes sense, as having one without the other wouldn’t be the same.

So, thank you, Ian and Barbara. Thank you William and Jacqueline. And thank you all for your continued interest in all things Doctor Who.

2 out of 5 stars



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[June 26, 1965] Disappointing Duo (June Galactoscope #2)

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by Rosemary Benton

Modern Man, Primitive Man (Robert Nathan's The Mallot Diaries)

The Mallot Diaries is a new science fiction drama from novelist Robert Nathan. The author, best known for his 1940 fantasy mystery novel Portrait of Jennie, is a highly prolific individual whose style primarily balances satirical allegories with poetic waxing on the transient nature of the world.  

Given that he has some stories which have been categorized as supernatural/horror and generally fantastical, I was eager to pick up what I thought would be a merger of high literary talent exploring themes commonly found in popular literature. A story about modern man interacting with a species lost out of time? Now that’s a fruitful area for an author such as Nathan! What The Mallot Diaries turned out to be was far more unsettling.

 

First Contact

The book takes place in the present day within the remote regions of Arizona. It is written from the titular firsthand accounts of an Associate of Anthropology at Meriden College named Professor Mallot. He, along with his fellow academic Professor Osgood, Curator of the Archaeological Wing of the Museum of Natural History in Yuma, set out to look into rumors of an elusive tribe of indigenous peoples who have resisted contact with the outside world. Their inquiries with a local Apache man quickly lead them to the very people they seek. Having made contact with the tribe, they soon deduce that the people are actually the remnants of a Neanderthal group who are part of the Bear worshipers that Mallot is studying.  

The elected leader of the tribe welcomes them after they provide reassurances that the purpose of their visit is neither to kill his people or "take away their god".  This tribal leader, or "Jefe", declares that the two men may stay with them in order to act as historians who will document the history and culture of the People of the Bear. Things quickly get messy, however, when the internal power struggles of the tribe begin to draw the outside observers in – both due to their desire to document the People of the Bear, and because of their own weaknesses of the flesh.  

The World Before Recorded History

The modern-day discovery of a lost tribe of Neanderthals is a solid enough base for a good story. Nathan does an admittedly decent job of working in the wonder and respect that his main characters feel as they begin to understand the world of their hosts. It’s refreshing to read a story in which the modern world explorers would be able to appreciate that the only real differences which separate modern humans from their primitive roots are as superficial as looks or clothing choices.  

It’s pessimistic, but Nathan writes on page 73, "I often think of Professor Osgood's remark, that man has not changed in a hundred thousand years. He is still a scoundrel". To this point he again and again drives home the facts that things such as wealth, status, lust and ambition are as alive and well in the predecessors of homo sapiens as they are in modern man himself. At times these parallels come off as a little too trite, however.  

The Youth Revolution

Perfect examples of this are the implications within the buildup to the children's revolution at the climax of the book. This plot thread is clearly a thinly veiled satire of today's youth culture. Under the current leadership of the tribe, children (meaning anyone under the age of 21) are not subjected to any forms of rules or consequences for their bad behavior.

The Jefe indulgently dismisses rude or violent acts as just youthful arrogance. Ultimately this lack of discipline for any crimes, from adultery to assault, results in the 109 children of the tribe taking up spears and killing the elders.  

Heavy handed satire aside, by far the worst flaw of Nathan's book is the sensuality with which young girls are described and the societal sexualization of the youths in the tribe, some of whom are as young as eight years old.

As the story progresses and the anthropologists learn more about the internal politics and social structure of the tribe, both of Nathan's protagonists develop very disturbing feelings for two of the young girls, one of whom is twelve and the other is between the ages of fourteen and sixteen.  

Highly Disturbing

This attraction is in part explained as being an effect of the two professors integrating into the tribe. Thirteen is the current age of consent amongst the Neanderthals and young girls and boys are not strictly forbidden from sexual exchanges, but it’s still a very disquieting turn in the story that comes into play over and over again.

The touting of pedophilia as romantic, cute and "basic human nature" frankly ruins the experience of reading The Mallot Diaries, and because of it I can’t recommend this book at all. 

If Nathan was trying to write the next Lolita he has not succeeded. I have to give this book only a half star. Even with the pointed realizations about humanity which Nathan occasionally drops during the plot, the fetishization of young girls as well as the repeated attempts to write blatant pedophilia off as star crossed love makes The Mallot Diaries a book that is best avoided at all costs.  


By Jason Sacks

On a much lighter note…

Sometimes it's exhilarating to read a book that seems to be positively overflowing with ideas, a book where the author seems thrilled to share a whole universe of concepts and drag an empathetic reader along in a journey that feels complex and rich, even if the book is short.

And sometimes it's just exhausting to read a book like that.

The Martian Sphinx, by Keith Woodcott

The Martian Sphinx, by journeyman science fiction author Keith Woodcott, is an exhausting book.  It's full of clever moments, great excitement, and some intriguing alien races. Sadly,  in this case, the whole of this brief 160-page Ace novel is not greater than the sum of its parts.

The Cork Floats to the Top

The protagonist of this novel is a graduate student named Jason Lombard, who is attending the finest college in Africa but who is ostracized due to his European birthplace. Lombard may be part of a miserable minority, but his brilliance wins the day. Despite his neurotic worries, Lombard is a genius level scientist who has thought through the deeply troubling problem of the Earth's decaying orbit around the sun.

Lombard comes across as a compelling character in the early chapters of this book, albeit in the Philip K. Dick tradition. Jason is a worrier, an outsider, a man who feels deeply ostracized from the university he's attending. It's hard not to see in Lombard echoes of the children integrating Southern elementary schools and college these days, though filtered through a different sort of personality.

I would happily have read a whole book exploring Lombard's world, with its overpopulated Europe and the advancement of the Red Chinese to the top of the world's most advanced societies. Sadly, Woodcott wanders elsewhere before exploring that theme enough to satisfy the reader's curiosity. I wish he had taken a stand to explore the problems of overpopulation, as that problem seems richly deserving of exploration in sci-fi.

The Power of Gravi

A second intriguing theme in The Martian Sphinx depicts how the world has moved beyond its dependence on fossil fuels and has learned to use a safe and endless source of power which is all around us. Gravipower sends a spaceship into space, provides all the energy the world needs, and essentially acts as a magic handwaving plot device to move the story along.

Again, the development of gravipower would alone have been enough for an entertaining book, because its effects on the book's characters is intriguing. But, again, we just don't get to spend much time considering what is essentially only a plot device.

First Contact

Instead, the heart of the book is a trip Lombard and a team of astronauts take to Mars to investigate a strange alien contraption dubbed "The Martian Sphinx." I'll get to the "Sphinx" in a paragraph or two, but first I should mention the aliens who are also questing after the object.

Two races swiftly land on Mars when the Terrans land there, and both alien races are bizarre, unique and totally fascinating in their vast differences from mankind. One race attacks the other, and the effects of the battle make up some of the most passionately written sections of the novel. Though these creatures are as different from people as insects are from us, readers are still made to feel the aliens' pain and fear. I was legitimately moved by a scene in which a number of the beings slowly die due to the battle.

In a way, their very alienness added to the pathos of those those scenes. Readers feel themselves in the boots of Lombard and his companions, struggling to make sense of the cryptic, unexplained war that lands on humanity's doorstep and the terrible toll that war takes on everyone involved. Again, this section alone might make for an intriguing novel of its own, maybe as a parable for our deepening conflict in Vietnam.

Not this Sphinx…

The Sphinx

Lastly, at the heart of the book but far from the center of its action is the "martian sphinx" of the book's title. An alien obelisk on our nearest planetary companion, the sphinx is a perplexing object which bespeaks of a long-lost alien civilization and seems to promise a fascinating future for humanity.

Woodcott makes the sphinx intriguing but it ultimately delivers mostly riddles rather than answers. Though that makes its name appropriate, the sphinx also deserves more than the space it receives here to begin to reveal its secrets. It's a rich enough idea for a whole series of novels, and I hope Woodcott can write those novels.

One of Mr. Woodcott's previous novels

Few Riddles Answered

The Martian Sphinx is Woodcott's fourth published novel and it overflows with ideas. Sadly, perhaps due to the brevity of this book, none of those ideas pay off in fulfilling ways. It's easy to ponder how a writer like Philip K. Dick or John Brunner might explore these ideas which read similar to some of their best work. Sadly Woodcott is no Brunner and this novel just doesn't fulfill its considerable potential.

3 stars.

[I am looking forward to the interesting mail we receive in regard to Jason's last statement. I suppose Woodcott is no Brunner much like Winston P. Sanders is no Poul Anderson and Cordwainer Bird is definitely no Harlan Ellison…]



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