Category Archives: Science Fiction/Fantasy

[June 24, 1965] Wasps, Warriors and Aldiss (Science Fantasy and New Worlds, July 1965)


by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

Do you remember in my article last month when I summed up by saying that Science Fantasy was all new writers of limited readability and New Worlds relied on its cohort of now fairly well-established writers?

Well, the Editors were clearly listening to me (as if!), as this month they've swapped positions. We have some major changes this month in both magazines.

Let’s start with the issue that arrived first in the post this month: the July issue of Science Fantasy.

Well, it is Summer here and the latest cover by the prolific Keith Roberts reflects that.

I must admit that (for a change) I actually like the painting of this cover, although the subject matter is one I personally dislike – I hate wasps. But it does what the cover is meant to do, which is make you interested in the issue. It also refers to Mr. Roberts’s new novel, the first part of which fills this issue. More later.

Onto the editorial, which continues the discussion Kyril started last issue – which was “The job of a critic consists of knowing when he is being bored, and why", or rather that of the importance of readability when discussing or – heaven forbid! – criticising prose. In this issue we get more to the point, when Kyril suggests for the SF community “our sort of fiction has its roots firmly in the pulp magazines and since these survive by the casual, non-enthusiast readers and not by the relatively few ‘fans’, readability must be a major consideration.” I think he has a point, although the New Worlds way, currently under the guidance of Mike Moorcock seems to want to change that by producing more challenging and less linear prose than that. Some might say less readable.

He then goes on to say that science fiction is shackled by its own conventions in as much of a way as the detective novel is. He finishes with a gloomy prophecy, that “…when I look at the future through the bottom of my ale-glass I can see about as much hope for the future of science fiction as we have known it as there is for the detective-novel unless this insistence on novelty relaxes. It cannot hope to be accepted as part of the mainstream whilst bound by the conventions more rigid than the ones it claims to be destroying.”

So: we must change, or die, move on from the past to form a new future. Yet remain readable. There’s a rallying manifesto for the New Wave if ever I saw one. It’s been said before by both Kyril and Moorcock but this lays itself out clearly, presumably for those new readers.

To the stories themselves.

The Furies (Part 1 of 3), by Keith Roberts

You might have noticed my comments about Roberts in the past few months, whether under his own name or a pseudonym (I’ll come back to this later.) As I’m being favourable it must be said that we’ve seen a variety of stories in terms of style – post-apocalyptic ones, scary ones, humorous ones, and ones of Fantasy, such as the Anita stories, as well as science fiction, all of varying quality and success.

This, however, is Mr. Roberts’ first novel, in the first of three parts. There’s clearly some confidence being shown here, as it takes up nearly 100 pages of the 130-page magazine. As the cover shows us, it is a story of wasps. It begins relatively innocently. Bill Sampson, a cartoonist, has bought a building in the rural village of Brockledean, Wiltshire. He’s very happy working, visiting the local pub and generally getting on with life with his Great Dane Sek.

One day his teenage neighbour Jane Beddoes-Smythe (how British is that name?) wanders in to say “Hello”. They build a platonic relationship whilst Jane is staying in the area for the Summer holidays. During this time there are reports of attacks by wasps, which seem a little far-fetched but really of no consequence. More urgent is the global testing of nuclear weapons currently going on under the seabed.

When our heroes are attacked by a swarm of the afore-mentioned wasps, they soon find that the insects in this case are different to the normal. These are three feet in size, can fly through brick walls and windows, have a sting that can punch through steel plate and mandibles strong enough to decapitate a person. (There are some gruesome descriptions in this story to make that point.)

And if that wasn’t enough, whilst being attacked by the wasps there are earthquakes. The nuclear tests have caused them, destroying Bill’s house. When they eventually escape, they find very few survivors – it seems that whole villages have been destroyed by either the earthquakes or the wasps. Bill and Jane meet an armoured patrol car commanded by Lieutenant Neil Connor, and with Sergeant Ted Willis, the group make a run for the coast. Much of the rest of this part of the story is about their journey towards Weymouth and the challenges they face.

Even if I didn't hate wasps, this story is quite chilling. Whilst my initial impression was that it was going to be in the style of a British Horror B-movie, the story is subtler than that. Roberts sets up a British rural idyll – Sampson living a contented life in the British countryside in a converted public house – and then turns it into something horrendous. Though the added complication of earthquakes happening at the same time as the wasps appearing may be a little too far-fetched, the story is quite shocking in its depiction of the havoc caused by the wasps. Are the wasps a result of the nuclear tests, or are they just taking advantage? It’s not clear (yet.) They are fierce and clever, which leads to some discussion of insect intelligence, which may be as strange as any alien intelligence we ever encounter.

Perhaps the story’s strength is how it visualises the British rural landscape. Roberts has always used descriptions of nature in his work and the Wiltshire setting is nicely done, which makes the impact of this unusual threat all the more jarring. This is a story of 'normal' people trying to survive against adversity.

Despite the appearance of a Granny Thompson-like old lady, in the form of Mrs Sitwell, this is by far Keith Roberts' best work to date. And a great cliffhanger ending. 4 out of 5.

A Distorting Mirror, by R. W. Mackelworth

The second story in two months by Mackelworth, after his story Last Man Home in New Worlds last month. A Distorting Mirror is a story of drug-induced murder in order to climb the occupational career ladder, or at least gain access to housing. The mega-Corporation uses the drugs to determine an employee’s desires, which allows lots of weird-looking goings on and in this case causes the main character to murder his wife when he realises that a) she is competition, and b) he cannot give her what she most desires. All a bit far-fetched for me. 2 out of 5.

The Door, by Alastair Bevan

This one’s a little sneaky, as if you’ve been following closely over the past few months you may have noticed me saying that “Alastair Bevan” is actually…. Keith Roberts!

The ‘Door’ of the title is that which connects the underground Orange City with the world outside. Naylor is attempting to break through it, as it hasn’t been opened for years. A one-point, twist-in-the-tale story about what Naylor discovers once he has broken through. This is a weaker Roberts effort, which makes me think of what an inferior version of The Twilight Zone would be like.
2 out of 5.

The Criminal, by Johnny Byrne

And lastly, a very short story from Mr. Byrne. His return (Johnny was last seen with the very odd Harvest in the January/February 1965 issue) will be greeted with enthusiasm by some readers, although not usually by me, as I find his stories generally too strange for my personal tastes.

However, this very short story is more accessible. A naked man is unceremoniously dumped by a spaceship outside a supermarket. The man explains that this is a punishment because he has been found guilty of a crime. The inevitable twist in the story is who the man says has appeared on Earth as a punishment before him. This short-short story makes its point, then leaves, quickly.  3 out of 5.

Summing up Science Fantasy

And that’s it from Science Fantasy this month – a mere four stories, a bit of a shock after the seven of last month. And two of those are by the same author. But The Furies is shockingly good and may even deserve the generous space given to it this issue.

Let’s go to my second magazine.

The Second Issue At Hand

Look! No squares, blur or abstract shapes! This month’s cover, by artist unknown, has a picture you can actually recognise, and it is connected to one of the stories! It still looks pretty basic, admittedly, (compare it with those US covers you get!) but it shows some idea of y'know, relevance. That can only be a good thing, can’t it?

Having tackled the idea of “What is Science Fiction?” last month, Mike Moorcock continues his rhetoric with a debate about whether SF should be about “Space stories” anymore. It has come up in the Letters pages before. Under the title Does Space Still Come Naturally?, Moorcock uses the editorial pages to say that it has but should also make way for the ‘new’ Science Fiction, that of inner space and changing states. He sums it up thus: “Unless a magazine is to become nothing more than a collection of popular engineering articles thinly described as fiction – as has happened to at least one magazine in recent years – then it must look around for something fresh, must encourage something fresh.” I wonder which magazine he is describing? Hmm.

I’m not a gambling person, but after his comments last month, I’m thinking it must be John W. Campbell’s Analog myself. You can, of course, suggest your own.

Both New Worlds and Science Fantasy seem to be putting forward a united front on this idea of the need for fresh new ideas this month. Clearly both Editors feel the eyes of other Editors on them at the moment, and this is them setting out their respective stalls.

Moorcock takes this one step further:


A Moorcock rallying call – I'm not sure I agree with the bold statement he's making, but it is impressive.

Remember last month when I said that New Worlds seems to be relying on using its well-established repertoire of writers?

Moorcock ends with a not-so-subtle musing: should the magazine expand its size? This is followed by the point that to do so, it would have to raise its price from 2s. 6d to 3s 6d. I await the response in the Letters pages.

To the stories!

Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Lone Zone, by Charles Platt

After Mr Platt’s amusingly grumpy review of Brian Aldiss’s Earthworks last issue, we now have fiction of his own. It’s a story of inertia and decay that verges on the Ballardian. In the future we have had huge Linear Cities built, but not the population to fill them. Large areas of the cities are now Lone Zones, where abandoned people are left to fend for themselves.

The depressing drabness and sense of decay throughout makes it all feel like a city in a Communist state to me, but the Loners scavenging the buildings for food and everything they need seem like young rebellious types. At the other social extreme, we have Civics, living in an ordered world where everything they do is provided for, organised and programmed.

This story is about what happens when Johnson, a Civic, appears in the Lone Zone of Linear City 7, wanting to live like the Loners and learn about how they live. It’s not an easy choice – the last Civic that did that was hanged in a matter of days. Johnson meets Vincent, the leader of a group of Loners, and tries to tag along with the group.

This is treated with some degree of wariness on the group's part, because other Loners may see them as ‘Civic-Lovers’ and mark them as a target for attack. However, most of the story is about what Johnson discovers about how the Loners live and the deserted decrepit city where they live. It doesn’t end well.

It’s not a bad story, that basically compares the generational differences between the lives of young and old. You could see it as a metaphor story of future free-wheeling hippies versus the staid establishment, if you like. But it is all a bit depressing, and the ending reflects that. 3 out of 5

The Leveller, by Langdon Jones


Illustration by Gilmore

And now it is the Assistant Editor’s turn, with another tale of Inner Space. A man wakes up in a hospital room, aware of his surroundings but is unable to communicate with the world around him. Looking around him, he seems to have left his dying physical body. Whilst watching he finds himself talking to a range of odd creatures – a toad, then a swordsman and then to an ex-lover – in some kind of delusional psychedelic experience just before the body seems to die. The twist in the tale is as predictable as it could be. Again, not bad but nothing particularly revelatory. 2 out of 5.

The Silent Ship, by E. C. Williams

This one has a touch of Quatermass about it. A spaceship returning from Ceres crashes on Earth after no contact is able to be made with the pilot, Grasp. A representative of the firm he is working for is sent to investigate. The pilot is alive but babbling and is taken to hospital. When the ship is studied there is nothing else onboard but some silica rocks.

Tests at the hospital show that Grasp is dying and has no white corpuscles left in his body. The last half of the story shows us what has happened to Grasp. Out on Ceres he has found microscopic life in the rocks. After observing them, Godlike for a while, the ‘fleas’ (as he calls them) invade his body. Grasp is driven by the fleas to return to Earth, where the infection dies upon exposure to Earth’s microbes and kills Grasp. Good old H G Wells!

It’s OK, though I thought the idea of micro-civilizations had gone out with Superman’s Kandor. 3 out of 5.

A Funny Thing Happened, by Dikk Richardson

Oh no. Just the title… this is going to be one of those stories that tries to be funny, isn’t it? A one-page shaggy dog story that involves the Easter Island statues. Awful. 1 out of 5.

A Light in the Sky, by Richard A. Gordon

A debut story which, like a few others recently, channels Edgar Rice Burroughs or Robert E. Howard with Arabian panache before revealing something more science-fictional. It’s OK but I saw the end coming a long time before I read it. 3 out of 5.

Supercity, by Brian W. Aldiss

Ah, now that’s more like it! Good old dependable Brian. (Have I said in the last few minutes that he will be Guest of Honour at next month’s Worldcon in London? No? I am slacking!) Ah – hang on. This is a reprint, a story that was first published in 1957. The third word in the story gave it away to me, being part of the title of an early Aldiss story collection. Just to put that in perspective, 1957 was the year of the first Sputnik. (Yes, that long ago!)

This is an Aldiss story that playfully satirizes societies and plays with language. This even happens with the title, because Brian is at pains from the start to point out that Supercity is not what most readers would expect from the word – a story of Trantorian urbanisation (super-city) – but is instead su-per-city – “the art of becoming indispensable through being thoroughly useless”. It is a story of bureaucracy and how ineptitude can sometimes get you to the top of the pile. Its wryly amusing, fast paced and quite irreverent – just what you need in a Worldcon Guest of Honour!

As good as Supercity is, the issue for me here is that this is not a new story. I suspect the main reason Supercity is here is to remind us what a top-class author Brian is. (Have I said in the last few minutes that he will be Guest of Honour at next month’s Worldcon in London? Really?)

Gloriously ridiculous and yet somehow, for all of its silliness, it has a ring of truth about it. Worth a reprint. 4 out of 5.

The Night of the Gyul, by Colin R Fry

A post-apocalyptic story where some sort of devolved human meets a Boi and a Gyul who wish to travel in a Bote to Frahnts, where lies Paradise.

One of those stories that talks a lot and plays with language in a way that Moorcock seems to love, but actually doesn’t have a lot to say. Once you’ve got your head around what the characters are talking about, there’s not a lot of importance there. I lost interest quite quickly. 2 out of 5.

Book Reviews, Articles and Letters

This month there is one film review and a good few Book Reviews. There is no sign of a Science Article, though – perhaps they have died a death…

For films, Al Good examines Roger Corman’s latest take on "Edgar Allen Poe" (as it says on the back cover), The Tomb of Ligeia before looking at Corman’s work in general. Although The Tomb of Ligeia is not Corman’s best, the Corman versions of Poe’s work are better movies than our British Hammer Horror movies because they stay close to the spirit of Edgar’s writing.

George Collyn comments on Brian Aldiss’s Greybeard (not the best Aldiss has ever written), JG Ballard’s The Terminal Beach (an author in danger of disappearing into himself) and Journey Beyond Tomorrow by Robert Sheckley, which he is much more positive about.

After praising the work of Cordwainer Smith and Kurt Vonnegut, in Collyn’s opinion, Sheckley is seriously underrated, and his work, as well as that of Smith and Vonnegut, reflects the difference in reading material between UK and US readers at the moment. Like Aldiss and Ballard, they are writers prepared to push the boundaries of what we see as science fiction, unlike the majority published in American magazines. Sheckley’s Journey Beyond Tomorrow is “the most important unnoticed event of 1964 as far as SF is concerned.”

James Colvin (aka Mike Moorcock) hands in a more detailed review of The Best SF Stories of James Blish. Taking each story in turn, he eventually puts forward the idea that Blish as an author may be overrated and that other writers such as Cyril Kornbluth and John Brunner deserve to be published as frequently as Blish.

Speaking of Kornbluth and Brunner, Langdon Jones praises their stories in his review of Spectrum IV, edited by Kingsley Amis and Robert Conquest. The collection is dissected in some detail as a “good buy” collection, whilst Poul Anderson’s Trader to the Stars is dismissed as a Wild West story set in Space and Robert A Heinlein’s Tunnel in the Sky is a juvenile masquerading as an adult novel, and as such is “readable if slight.”

The Letters pages continue to debate the ongoing issue of what is science fiction, and therefore what should or shouldn’t be included in New Worlds. Suggestions this month include dropping the 'SF' on the cover, and sticking to traditional idioms is too limiting. The debate continues.

In terms of Ratings, no great surprises for the Star issue from April, other than it is a reprint that gets top billing. Ballard is lower than I expected, but then I thought myself that this was a lesser work. Bearing in mind what George Collyn has said about JG in his reviews this month, does this suggest that the Ballard bubble has burst?

Summing up New Worlds

Another ‘up and down’ issue, with some good and others not so. Moorcock should be praised to trying to nurture new talent, but the results are variable. I enjoyed most the Aldiss reprint, but the issue also gained my lowest rating so far for a story. It’s a good effort but a C+ overall.

Summing up

This month’s issues are difficult to compare as they are so deliberately different. New Worlds has gone for new talent and a range of stories of variable content, whilst Science Fantasy has gambled on one big story dominating the issue, with lesser efforts from Science Fantasy regulars. In the end, the dominance of The Furies means that this month’s best issue for me is Science Fantasy. It’s not perfect, but I think I’ll remember that story for a long time.

And that’s it for this time. Until the next…


Here's those Beatles chaps, celebrating the arrival of Summer with squinting eyes





[June 22, 1965] Standby for Action! (Gerry Anderson’s Stingray)


by Kaye Dee

“Standby for Action!” is the dramatic opening line of the opening titles for Gerry and Sylvia Anderson’s most recent marionette science fiction series, Stingray, which then go on to promise us “Anything can happen in the next half hour!” And with over 39 episodes of undersea adventure Stingray lives up to that promise.


World Aquanuat Security Patrol Commander Shore warns us that “Anything can happen in the next half hour” in the Stingray opening titles. Note the caption “in Videcolor” in the background, telling even viewers watching in in black and white that the show is made in colour

Stingray completed its first Australian screening run a few weeks ago on June 9, having commenced on the national broadcaster, the Australian Broadcasting Commission (ABC), on September 16, 1964. As I’ve recently discovered from my friend at the ABC, this was, unusually, three weeks before the show commenced screening in Britain: as you might recall from my article about the long-delayed arrival of Doctor Who in Australia, we are more likely to be months, if not years, behind in screening television series from overseas. In fact, the Andersons’ earlier series, Fireball XL5, still hasn’t arrived on our shores, but I’ve heard that it will be shown on one of the commercial television channels later in the year.


The Stingray, series title. I’ve read that Gerry Anderson said an undersea show was the next logical step after the land and space exploits of his earlier series Supercar and Fireball XL5

Although I haven’t yet seen Fireball XL5, I discovered Stingray alongside the Andersons’ first Supermarionation puppet creation Supercar, which has been repeated this year on the ABC after first screening in 1963. While Supercar is good kiddie fun (thanks to my niece and nephew for introducing me to both these shows), Stingray shows an order of magnitude of improvement, technically and in the imaginativeness of its storyline.


Stingray, the most advanced submarine of 2065 and titular star of the show

Stingray is a science fiction undersea adventure series, set in the twenty first century (in 2065, as one episode informs us), following the exploits of the crew of Stingray, the most advanced submarine in the World Aquanaut Security Patrol (better known as WASP), one of the armed services of the World Government, charged with policing and protecting civil activities on and under the world’s oceans. However, in Stingray’s world, there are many peoples and civilisations under the sea and, although they have been largely unknown to the surface world previously, many of them have become angered by the “terrainean” exploitation of the resources of the oceans.


The Stingray crew, Troy Tempest, Phones and Marina, the mysterious woman from the sea.

In the first episode, the crew of Stingray, Captain Troy Tempest and his navigator/hydrophone operator, nicknamed “Phones” (apparently his full name is given in the promotional material for the series, but it never gets mentioned on screen), are captured by Titan, King of undersea city of Titanica. When his god (represented by a giant fish that looks like a cross between a grouper and a coelacanth!) rejects Troy and Phones, Titan condemns them to death, but they escape, aided by Marina, the mute daughter of the ruler of another undersea kingdom, whom Titan has been keeping as his slave. Marina returns with Troy and Phones to the WASP home-base of Marineville and becomes a member of the Stingray crew, using her knowledge of the undersea world to assist in their missions.


Titan, the evil King of Titanica, the arch-enemy of the Stingray crew, and his minions, the Aquaphibians.

This sets the stage for the series, with Titan and his creepy henchmen X-20 and the Aquaphibians, becoming the WASPs’ main undersea adversaries. While many stories involve battles with, or thwarting plots against, the WASP, or the surface world in general, by Titan and his allies, there is plenty of other action for the Stingray crew as well: we see them involved in exploration, participating in marine archaeology, undertaking rescue missions, investigating piracy and terrorism, assisting undersea peoples, becoming embroiled in international diplomacy and even discovering the truth about the Loch Ness Monster! Of course, being a children’s show, some of the stories are silly, and there are too many ‘dream episodes’, where strange things happen, for my taste – but many have a tongue-in-cheek humour that can be appealing to adults, and others touch on grown-up ideas such as whether or not we should exploit the mineral resources of the ocean floor.


Stingray in its pen under Marineville, awaiting the call to “Action Stations”

Unlike many kids’ adventure shows, the storyline is not completely static but has some developments over time, with Marina being initially somewhat under suspicion as a possible agent of Titan, but gradually becoming accepted, especially by Atlanta Shore, who was romantically involved with Tempest before Marina arrived on the scene. Troy finds himself enthralled by Marina but seems unable to make up his mind between the two women. It must be a first for a children’s television show that it not only portrays a ‘love triangle’ but also makes it the focus of its closing credits, which incorporate the love song “Aqua Marina”.


Atlanta Shore, Troy’s original love interest and her father WASP Commander Sam Shore in Marineville Control. A person with paraplegia in a hovering ‘wheelchair’ as a military commander has to be a role model for disabled children: in the future you can do anything!

I also find it interesting that Stingray includes two handicapped characters among its main cast, both of whom are shown to be vital members of the WASP. Marina may be mute – and episodes deal with her crewmates wanting to help her learn to speak, and the problem of Marineville Control communicating with Marina by radio – but she is intelligent and more than capable of rescuing Troy and Phones on more than one occasion. The Commander of the WASP, Sam Shore, is a paraplegic, who gets around using a hover chair – and an entire episode is devoted to the story of how he was crippled on active duty — but he is in overall charge of the organization. These have to be heartening role models for children afflicted by polio and other disabilities. 


Gerry and Sylvia Anderson and some of the Stingray production team with one of the models of Stingray

Stingray is impressive technically. Those dramatic opening statements at the beginning of the title sequence introduce a series of action shots of Stingray, a lot of explosions, Stingray’s home base Marineville going to red alert (which means the entire base sinking underground and ICBM’s being deployed into launch positions), and an amazing scene of Stingray leaping out of the water, chased by one of Titan’s submarines in the shape of a gigantic mechanical fish. And it’s all accompanied by a staccato, jazzy theme that really works with the visuals.


I’d love to know how they created this dramatic scene of Stingray leaping out of the water, chased by one of Titan’s submarines

The models of futuristic submarines, aircraft and other technology of the twenty first century are beautifully detailed, and the finely crafted miniature sets perfectly match the size of the marionettes, which I understand are about 20 inches tall. I’ve read that the AP Films production team moved into a completely new studio to produce Stingray, which included two sound stages, so that they could shoot two episodes at a time, plus a special stage for filming special effects and huge indoor tanks for filming ocean surface scenes. The ‘underwater’ scenes are apparently shot on a dry set, but filmed through a special fish-filled aquarium in front of the camera, to create a forced perspective of an undersea environment: the kids certainly think it has actually been filmed underwater.


The beautifully detailed model of WASP Headquarters Marineville. The sequences of parts of the base sinking underground during an alert are really impressive

I like the Stingray marionettes, too: they are less caricatured than in Supercar, in fact some of them look like they’ve been modelled on real people. The Troy Tempest puppet reminds me of James Garner, and badguy X-20 looks – and sounds – a lot like Peter Lorre! The puppet faces are also given added realism by having glass eyes, unlike the painted eyes of the earlier puppets. Something I find really interesting is that the marionettes can apparently be fitted with different heads, sculpted so that the face is smiling or frowning, which allows them to express emotion in a way that wasn’t possible in the earlier puppets.


Tell me Troy Tempest isn’t modelled on James Garner!

Stingray also has another claim to fame, it seems, as the first television series in the UK to be filmed completely in colour, even though it will be some years yet before Britain gets colour television (and probably a decade yet before we see it in Australia). I understand has been done in order to improve the possibility of sales into the American market, so I hope it works, and the Andersons make enough profit from Stingray to embark upon a new series in the not-too-distant future.

In the meantime, I look forward to belatedly seeing Fireball XL5 and enjoy it as an interim step between Supercar and Stingray!



[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…]




[June 20, 1965] Ace Quadruple (June Galactoscope #1)

[Kris Vyas-Myall and Cora Buhlert team up to cover two of the better Ace Doubles to have come out in a while. Enjoy!]


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

The Ballad of Beta-2, by Samuel R. Delany, and Alpha, Yes! Terra, no!, by Emil Petaja (Ace Double M-121)

I have generally been disappointed by the Ace Doubles so far this year. Those I have read have seemed to me to be quite old fashioned and I had been wondering if they were going to be heading into a more conservative route with them this year. Thankfully, this new Double I have found has been one of their best:

The Ballad of Beta-2 by Samuel R. Delany

Ballad of Beta 2

I have been a fan of all four of Delany’s Ace novels, however I approached this with some excitement but also trepidation. For three of those former works were in the same Toron series and The Jewels of Aptor was also set in a similar post-catastrophe future. So, whilst I know he is an excellent writer I wondered how he would do with a generation starship story. I can definitively say he has not only succeeded but produced his best work to date.

This is an interesting take on the well-worn theme, where the generation starship became obsolete long before the crew reached their destination. The inhabitants found hyperdrive had resulted in the systems already being colonized and they themselves were outdated relics who were simply content to live on their ships. At the same time, it appears some form of reversion has taken place and those on board lack much of the knowledge they would have had at the start of the voyage.

Galactic anthropology student Joneny is forced to do an assignment on these Star Folk’s culture, specifically the titular “Ballad of Beta-2”. Originally Joneny assumes that the ballad is nothing but meaningless “cotton candy effusions”, but as he investigates further, he discovers this may hold the truth of what terrible fate befell the Star Folk on their long voyage.

This story starts off fairly leisurely and I assumed this was going to be a sedate academic kind of novel, travelling around exploring the starships. However, as it goes on you do discover that the terror listed on the front cover is justified, my heart pounding as I read some passages. And it should be said there are multiple unforeseen twists within its pages.

Delany clearly has a gift for poetry, with the ballad itself being a beautiful piece and with a clearer understanding of metre and imagery than may others in the fantasy field. He also uses a number of other clever literary devices which I loved, such as building up a mosaic story from framed narratives.

Throughout this Delany explores numerous interesting ideas. First is the value of the fantastic in storytelling and how easily it is dismissed by literary critics (something I am sure we have all seen).

Second is the problem of unchecked biases in academia. The only first-hand account Joneny can find is the original contact when the Star Folk entered the system and the Ballad was only picked up by sending in a robot to record, which the original anthropologist changed the lyrics he thought were clearly incorrect. It is off the back of this information that the common truth about the nature of the Star Folk is held.

Third is the danger of cultural assumptions. Thinking about who is civilized and what it truly means to be human. Throughout we are called on to challenge what we think we know and reassess that which we hold to be true.

Then this also acts as a reality check on the space romances, that see an ease to zipping around the universe, showing how hard this could really be. But then the story dives further into the dangers of anti-intellectualism and religious fundamentalism.

I could keep on about all the ways this work is fascinating. It should be noted this part of the Double is pretty short, only 96 pages, but within it he crafts a story with more depth than most writers manage in triple that time. And yet I would not say any of the concepts are treated at a surface level, he weaves it all together like a stout rope and you can see more ideas every time you look closer.

Needless to say, I fell in love with this short novel. I would recommend it for everyone, but it is not for the faint of heart or those looking for a light read. It is tough, intellectually challenging and really brutal at times.

Delany has once again proven himself to be one of the most exciting new voices in science fiction. If he is not to be my favourite writer of the year, someone else is going to have to produce something spectacular in the next six months!

Rating: Five Stars

Alpha Yes, Terra No! by Emil Petaja

Alpha Yes, Terra No!

Emil Petaja is an old hand of the genre but has been out of the writing game for almost a decade, only just beginning to sell new short stories and (I believe) this is his first novel. As such I was very curious what it would be like.

Humanity has fully conquered the Solar System and is preparing interstellar ships for further expansion. In Alpha Centauri they had been initially deflecting ships with their barrier, but the tribunal has decided it will be necessary to wipe out humanity completely.

The novel opens with an alien from Alpha Centauri arriving in San Francisco and ending up mingling with the homeless of the city. This person (who is initially called The Tourist but who will have more names as the story unfolds) has psychic powers and uses them to take a look at the differences in humanity and what life is like on Earth. However, his mission is not authorized, and a tracker has been sent to kill him.

Trying to summarize beyond this jumping on point seems like a fool’s errand as it become very complex. This story then evolves into a tapestry of life across the solar system, all of it linked together through a range of different characters, touching on ideas of power, mythology, belief and humanity.

Petaja makes a real effort to show what a future of ever-growing space colonization would be like rather than purely projecting the present into the future. This drive is leaving ordinary people’s lives in shambles as everyone has their eyes on space; crime and unemployment are rampant. Drug use is common. The natives of the planets that are being colonized are being exploited but it only manifests as power for a small number and as a means to fuel further expansion.

The author has an easily readable style which is useful as what he is doing could easily collapse under its own weight but somehow, he manages to juggle it. There were times when I would have to backtrack to check I was indeed following everything that was happening, but I never found myself becoming lost. I do think he could possibly have done more if this had been a full-length novel rather than squeezed down into one half of a Double, but he still works admirably with the page count he is given.

I expect this will be compared to Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land (although that itself is an old concept, dating at least as far back as Montaigne’s Of Cannibals) but it is really doing something different. This more a dialogue on humanity’s future weighing up the optimistic and pessimistic views we have emerging in science fiction and considering whether there is something worth saving in us.

So overall, Petaja’s return has proved to be a welcome surprise and I will be interested to see what he comes up with next. He clearly has a great affinity with Finnish myths, so perhaps a book based around that would be welcome?

Rating: Four Stars



by Cora Buhlert

The Rithian Terror and Off Center by Damon Knight (Ace Double M-113)

Summer has come to West Germany, though you wouldn't know it by the wet and miserable weather we've been having.

Nonetheless, there are some good news. My hometown team Werder Bremen has won the West German football (soccer to our American friends) championship for the 1964/65 season.

Werder Bremen 1965 champion
The Werder Bremen team celebrates winning the 1965 West German football championship

The 83rd Kieler Woche, one of the biggest sailing regattas in the world, kicks off today in Kiel-Eckernförde. In addition to the sailing competition, there is also a parade featuring 23 tall ships from all over the world.

Kieler Woche 1965
The West German police boat SCHLESWIG-HOLSTEIN and the French tall ships ETOILE and BELLE POULE, the Swedish tall ships GLADAN and FALKEN and the Chilean tall ship ESMERALDA at the Kieler Woche.
Poster Kieler Woche 1965
This striking minimalist poster, designed by Michael Engelmann, advertises the 1965 Kieler Woche sailing regatta.

On to reading: In the spinner rack of my local import bookstore, I came across yet another Ace Double, No. M-113 to be precise. This one contained a novel as well as a short fiction collection by Damon Knight. In the past, I have enjoyed Damon Knight's works of literary criticism, so how would his fiction stand up?

Monster Hunt

The Rithian Terror and Off Center by Damon Knight

Quite well, it turns out. The novel The Rithian Terror starts out with Security Commissioner Thorne Spangler, currently the most important official in the Earth Empire, on the hunt for a monster. That monster, the titular Rithian terror, is a tentacled horror that can take on the appearance of anybody it wishes. Seven Rithians came to Earth, but only one is still at large.

However, Spangler is certain he has the monster cornered. After all, there are house by house searches and roadblocks on every street, where everybody has to pass through a scanner. This is the one test a Rithian can't pass, for the scanner detects human skeletons and Rithians have none.

Spangler is accompanied by Jawj Pembun, an official from Manhaven, one of Earth's colony worlds, which recently gained its independence. Manhaven has regular contact with the Rithians, so Pumbun was brought in as an expert.

Spangler clearly resents Pembun's involvement in what should be his moment of glory. For starters, Pembun comes from a small backwater planet, one that only gained its independence, because the Earth Empire with its 260 planets let them. Furthermore, Pembun speaks in heavy dialect, while the Empire prizes precise language. Finally, Pembun is a black man, descended from African and Caribbean colonists, and Spangler is the sort of person who is very bothered by this and not shy about expressing it.

I have to admit that after the first fifteen pages or so, I came close to throwing the book against the nearest wall. There are enough racists in the real world, so I really don't need to spend time with racist characters while reading. However, I quickly realised that Knight was a better author than that. For even though Spangler may be the POV character, we're not meant to sympathise with him or his Empire. After all, Spangler and the Empire he serves are rigid, overorganised, xenophobic, have a massive superiority complex and are racist to boot. Spangler is also unpleasant in his personal life, a social climber who only courts his girlfriend Joanna because she is a member of a patrician family and will be useful to him. At one point, he even hits Joanna.

As a result, I quickly found myself sympathising with Pembun and cheered as he deflated Spangler and his smug compatriots. For starters, those scanners at every roadblock that Spangler is so proud of won't work, for while Rithians don't have skeletons, they could just swallow one to pass the test. Also, if the Empire wants to capture a Rithian alive, then maybe shooting six of the seven Rithians who crashlanded on Earth dead is not the best idea. Finally, Pembun casually drops the bombshell that the Rithians have hypnotic abilities as well as a nasty sense of humour.

A Game of Spies

What began as the hunt for an alien spy quickly turns into a game of cat and mouse between Spangler and Pembun. Spangler decides that Pembun must be a traitor and wastes a lots of resources trying to catch him redhanded. But the meeting of supposed offworld insurrectionists Spangler has his forces storm only turns out to be a Christmas party, where Pembun hands out gifts to children while dressed up as a legendary figure called the Grey Parrot.

While Spangler fails at every turn due to his rigid mindset, Pembun's unorthodox methods get results. And so Pembun manages to unmask the Rithian two thirds through the novel, using the Rithian's sense of humour against him. It turns out that the alien is posing as a junior member of the very committee dedicated to hunting him down. However, in the attempt to apprehend the Rithian, the alien is killed and Colonel Cassina, the military official the Rithian had hypnotised into giving him access to the security headquarters, is grievously wounded.

However, the crisis is not yet over. For the Rithians have planted bombs on Earth as leverage against the Empire. The key to the location of the bombs is in Colonel Cassina's head, only Cassina will not talk. And once Spangler's people finally manage to extract the message, destroying the Colonel's mind in the process, it turns out to be useless.

For Pembun points out that even though language has frozen and standardised in the Empire with every word having only a single meaning, it continued to evolve on the colony planets, where the same term can have many different meanings. So the location given in the message could be anywhere on Earth. Spangler and his security forces have no chance of locating the bombs. The Empire is finished, destroyed by its own rigidity, and so is Spangler's career. However, Spangler and Pembun have developed a grudging respect for each other and Pembun offers him a place on his homeworld Manhaven. Spangler's girlfriend Joanna, who up to now had refused to marry him, knowing fully well that Spangler wanted her not for herself, but for her position, agrees to go with him.

A Tale with Multiple Meanings

As a linguist, I enjoyed that the solution to the central mystery of the novel lies in the ambiguity of language. Another thing I liked was that Pembun's native tongue, which he occasionally speaks throughout the novel, is a Creole based on French, Spanish and English. I have no idea if Knight used a real Creole language, but it certainly feels convincing enough.

Just like the solution of the linguistic mystery, The Rithian Terror is a novel with multiple layers and meanings. On the surface, it is a hunt for a literal bug-eyed monster that has infiltrated Earth. However, it is also a John Le Carré like spy novel about two agents, both nominally on the same side, trying to outmanoeuvre each other. Finally, The Rithian Terror is a novel about colonialism and the slow decline and death of empires.

It is this last aspect that is also the most topical, for in the past fifteen years, we have seen the once great colonial empires of Britain and France as well as smaller powers like Belgium, the Netherlands, Spain and Italy slowly fall apart, as more and more nations in Africa, South East Asia and the Caribbean gain independence. And it is certainly no accident that Pembun, the representative of a newly independent world, is also a black man speaking Creole, while his counterpart Spangler is an overly rigid white man with the proverbial stick shoved up his backside. Knight makes it very clear to which of these two very different men the future belongs.

Four stars.

Off Center

Of Immigrants and Dolpins

Off Center, the second half of this Ace Double, is a collection of five pieces of short fiction originally published between 1952 and 1964.

F&SF February 1959The first story "What Rough Beast?" is the story of a young immigrant named Mike Kronski trying to make his way in America. However, Mike is not the simple East European immigrant he appears to be. He comes from far further afield, from an alternate universe. He also has the ability to bend reality to his will and has accidentally changed his world into ours.

Through a series of misadventures, Mike meets a young woman called Anne with burn scars on her body. He uses his ability to heal Anne's scars, which causes Anne's father and a greedy friend to capture Mike to exploit him. Mike tries to run away and is shot. In his terror, he accidentally erases New York from existence. Only Anne remains. Mike takes her to a different version of New York, where she can feel at home, and then departs to a new reality, hoping that this time, he will fit in.

A touching tale about the alienation and profound sense of homesickness many immigrants feel. Knight captures Mike's voice and his imperfect English well. Our editor Gideon Marcus also loved the story.

IF, November 1963"Second Class Citizen" is the story of researcher Charles Craven and the subject of his studies, the dolphin Pete. Craven has taught Pete to understand and speak English, spell simple words and even do chemical experiments. While Craven patronisingly presents Pete to some visitors, we learn from background conversations that there is an international crisis going on. Craven is convinced that this crisis will blow over, like any other crisis before.

However, Craven is wrong, for shortly after the visitors have left, the TV program is interrupted for a special bulletin before dropping out altogether. Craven correctly deduces that war has begun and manages to dive to the underwater station of his research base just before heat bombs fall all around him. Craven survives the attack, but once his food runs out, he will be doomed, unless he manages to catch enough fish to survive. However, Craven has no idea how to catch fish. Then Pete appears, easily catching the fish. The roles are reversed now, the teacher has become the student.

An interesting story about the way humans treat animals, but too short to make much of an impact. Gideon Marcus feels the same in his review of the story.

Of Ghosts, Gods and Martians

Fantastic Universe September 1958The novella "Be My Guest" is the story of Kip Morgan, a young man who finds himself possessed by four bickering ghosts after a poisoning attempt gone wrong. Kip also has another problem, he as well as two women of his acquaintance have become invisible to everybody but each other.

The novella follows Kip through his increasingly desperate attempts to get rid of his unwanted tenants and solve his invisibility problem. Kip finally realises that everybody had multiple ghosts living inside them and that these ghosts influence their decisions. He also realises that his invisibility problem is a form of quarantine to keep Kip from talking about the ghosts. Eventually, he blackmails some very powerful ghosts inhabiting the body of a rich man into lifting the quarantine and make sure that he and the two women are given only beneficial and helpful ghosts. Finally free, Kip also realises that the woman he thought he loved is not the person who's really good for him.

"Be My Guest" is an fascinating attempt at a science fictional ghost story. Knight viscerally conveys Kip's growing desperation. It does feel a little long, though, and would probably have worked better as a novelette or short story.

Rogue, March 1964"God's Nose" is a short vignette that does exactly what it says on the tin. The unnamed narrator and his female friend debate what the nose of God would look like. Eventually, her lover Godfrey arrives. He has a very prominent nose.

Inconsequential without much in the way of plot or point.

 

Galaxy, March 1952The final story "Catch That Martian" feels very much like a mix between The Rithian Terror and "Be My Guest". Once again, we have a dangerous alien, the titular Martian, who can take on the appearance of any human being. And once again, we have people abruptly taken out of the real world and turned into "ghosts". A young police officer is determined to crack the mystery of the ghosts and catch the Martian in the act. He deduces that the ghosts must have annoyed the Martian somehow, mostly via making noise, and that the Martian has a taste for musical theatre. So the narrator traces the Martian to a Broadway theatre, determined to apprehend him. But before he can give chase, he falls into the orchestra pit, straight onto a bass drum.

Well written and Knight once again captures the distinctive voice of his first person narrator perfectly. However, the story is also slight and a little silly, particularly compared to the two similar stories in this Ace Double.

All told, Off Center is a nice collection that showcases Knight's writing skills, even though some of the stories are a little slight.

Three stars.



[Don't miss the next episode of The Journey Show, featuring singer-songwriter Harry Seldon.  He'll be playing a mix of Dylan, Simon, and some unique original compositions!]




[June 18, 1965] Galactic Doppleganger (July 1965 Fantasy and Science Fiction)


by Gideon Marcus

Those of you who have been following the Journey over the past several years know that my appraisal of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has changed a few times.  Back in the days when Anthony Boucher and then Robert Mills were editing F&SF, it was my favorite magazine, a dessert I saved for reviewing last.

Then Avram Davidson took over in 1962, and while there were still standout issues, Davidson's whimsical, somewhat obtuse preferences led to a pretty rough couple of years.  Recently, Joe Ferman, son of the owner of the magazine, took over, and quality has been on a slow but perceptible rise.

One thing about F&SF is that it has always been unique amongst its SFF magazine brethren (which once numbered 40 and now less than ten).  It was the literary sibling, the most highfalutin.  Composed largely of vignettes and short stories, it contrasted sharply with the crunchier digests like Analog.

Which is why the current July 1965 issue is so unusual.  It's not bad; indeed, it's pretty good.  But it reads much like an issue of Galaxy or IF, one of the more mainstream mags.  I'm not disappointed.  It's just odd is all.  Read on and see what I mean.


by Jack Gaughan (he likes dragons — he did the illos for Vance's The Dragon Masters too!

Rogue Dragon, by Avram Davidson

Last year, Davidson left editing to go back to writing full time, and Rogue Dragon is his first major work since his departure from the helm of F&SF.  From the title, I expected a fantasy piece, or perhaps the dragon would even turn out to be metaphorical.  Both suppositions were wrong: Rogue Dragon is pure science fiction set on a far future Earth, one that had been conquered and then abandoned by the merciless insectoid Kar-chee.

Now simply called Prime World, humanity's original home has devolved to a handful of city-states. The planet's economy is based on Hunts, wherein the dragons introduced by the Kar-chee are slain by off-world big game hunters.  These dragons are nigh invulnerable things, their chest armor only pierceable in a weak spot identified with a painted white cross.

Enter Jan-Joras, the Private Man (representative) of the great off-world leader, Por Paulo.  Sent to arrange a vacation for the elected king he serves, Jan-Joras quickly gets caught up in a political struggle between the aristocratic Gentlemen class, who raise the dragons, the base-born (known pejoratively as dogcatchers and potato-growers), and the outlaws, who have hatched a scheme that will strike at the very foundation of the Hunt system.

But Rogue Dragon is no political thriller.  Rather, after a slightly difficult to read opening act (Davidson introduces many concepts and an abundance of idiomatic language in a short space), Rogue Dragon is an adventure story filled with derring-do, great escapes, and much traveling across increasingly hot frying pans — and we all know what destination lies at the end of that trail.

I found that I liked the story quite a bit, although it is perhaps less substantial than it might have been.  I waver between giving it three stars (perfectly adequate entertainment) and four stars (there's creative worldbuilding here).

Generosity wins.  Four stars it is, and welcome back to where you belong, Avram.

Computer Diagnosis, by Theodore L. Thomas

For his latest science fact vignette, Thomas discusses computer-assisted medical diagnosis — feed the data in, get a determination of malady and a life expectancy out.  Expanded, this could have made a nice article.  As is…

Three stars for being harmless.

The Expendables, by Miriam Allen deFord

In this odd bird of a story, the first astronauts sent to Mars are senior citizens.  The logic is that the mission is so hazardous, with so remote a chance of returning, that it is kinder to send folks with fewer years remaining in their lives.

It doesn't make a great deal of sense, and the story is hampered by some clunky "as you know" dialogue.  On the other hand, I thought the characters were pretty well drawn, and I appreciated the non-standard protagonists (two men, two women, all over 68).

Three stars.

The Eight Billion, by Richard Wilson

Many have made the dire prediction that Earth is heading toward massive overpopulation.  Indeed, the tremendous-sounding number, "Eight Billion", may well be reached by the end of the century.  Now imagine that crowding was such that eight thousand thousand thousands were crammed just into the island of Manhattan!

Wilson's story is mostly humorous fluff supporting a twist ending, but I enjoyed it.

Three stars.

Becalmed in Hell, by Larry Niven

Niven continues to impress with his fourth tale, sequel to The Coldest Place, which appeared in IF.  In his hard as nails variation on McCaffrey's The Ship who Sang, Howie and Eric-the-cyborg-ship explore the boiling planet of Venus.  There, floating twenty miles above the molten surface, Eric develops a fault and is unable to blast back into orbit.  Is the problem mechanical or psychosomatic?

This is the first story set on post-Mariner 2 Venus, and what a delight it is to see what is probably a much more accurate representation of the Planet of Love.  I do balk at the notion that it would be pitch black under Venus' clouds — it's not under an equivalent pressure of ocean, after all.  On the other hand, perhaps they were exploring the night side.

In any event, it's a neat story (albeit one I might have expected to find in Analog).  Four stars.

Exclamation Point!, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor continues his streak of turning his frivolous meanderings through mathematics into readable but not particularly momentous articles.  In this latest, he expounds on the "Asimov series", a cute way he has developed to approximate the value of the special constant, e.

An enjoyable ride, I suppose.  Three stars.

A Murkle For Jesse, by Gary Jennings

Gary Jennings last appeared in print in this very magazine, some three years ago, with the story Myrrha.  It was nominated for the Hugo, though I didn't think it merited such acclaim.

In any event, I think I liked Murkle better.  It stars an eight-year-old boy, a section of the rural Northeast, a little lost girl, and a 400-year old Irish fairy who is most certainly not lost.

If Clifford Simak and R.A. Lafferty were put in a blender, this piece might pour out.  Three stars.

The Pterodactyl, by Philip José Farmer

The book concludes with a short poem about the wing-fingered flying reptiles of the Mesozoic.  A difficult read, it also seems to suggest that pterodactyls were the evolutionary precursors of birds.

The weakest piece of the issue; two stars.

Wrapping up

And there you have it: a pleasant, above-average issue, but with stories that seem slightly odd fits for F&SF.  I'm not really complaining, though. 

Unless, of course, it means the other mags suffer…



[Don't miss the next episode of The Journey Show, featuring singer-songwriter Harry Seldon.  He'll be playing a mix of Dylan, Simon, and some unique original compositions!]




[June 14, 1965] Our Best Man (the Young Traveler's favorite secret agent)


by Lorelei Marcus

Spy King

A thrilling trend has swept its way across the screen recently. Suddenly everyone is keen on viewing the exhilarating day to day of the best secret agents film and television have to offer. They are dapper, cunning, and they challenge the world's darkest foes with masterful plans and interesting gadgets.

Yet among this sea of shadow-dwelling men there is a spy who stands above the rest as the best secret agent of all time. He's British, attracts women like a magnet, and works for a morally ambiguous organization to bring justice to the world.

I'm of course talking about John Drake.

Secret Agent, or Danger Man as it is called in its original airing in Britain, is the best fictional depiction of special intelligence on television. The sophisticated writing and wonderful performance from Patrick McGoohan has earned the show my weekly attention, as it should yours.

Now some may protest at the boldness of my claim. After all, how can a show almost no one in the States has ever heard of reign champion in the crowded secret agent genre? Especially with opponents such as The Man from U.N.C.L.E. and of course, the James Bond movies. Except, it becomes quite obvious when broken down that Secret Agent contains every possible desired aspect of the secret agent genre and excels where its rivals are lacking.

Exhibit 1: Stakes

Part of the spy appeal is the larger-than-life nature of their profession. Secret agents are frequently thrown into scenarios where their actions can change the face of the modern world. Secret Agent not only captures this drama, but on a level of such elegance and nuance that even the smallest of crises has you on the edge of your seat. John Drake is frequently sent to foreign countries to interfere or investigate governmental affairs; however no two jobs are ever alike. Sometimes he is stuck in the middle of a rebellion. Other times he's hunting down traitorous agents.

No matter the mission, John Drake always executes his work with a level of care, intelligence, and competence equalled by no other hero on television. The diversity and complexity of conflicts grounds the show in a realism akin to our own world. Not to mention the portrayal of other ethnicities and countries is done with unparalleled accuracy and respect. Every episode is exhilarating, mysterious, and well written, and there is yet to be one I didn't like.

To reinforce Secret Agent's excellence I'll compare it to the biggest secret agent film of the season: Goldfinger.

I would summarize the movie's plot, but to be frank it's been a few months and there wasn't much of one to begin with. Goldfinger was less a spy movie and more James Bond failing over and over and then being saved by the more competent people around him.


"I'll be over there, bailing you out…as usual."

Then there's Goldfinger's villain. While John Drake's foes are always complex and rarely monomaniacally evil, the titular villain, Goldfinger, throws subtlety out the window. Now, there's nothing wrong with the booming, big bad villain, but they also have to be cunning to properly challenge the hero. Except Auric Goldfinger's plans make no sense and reach a level of convolution so extreme that the movie must take 15 minutes to explain them to us.


Don't tell your evil plan! James Bond could be hiding under your little Fort Knox!

Sure there are the high-stakes threats of mass genocide and collapse of world economy, but they feel so large that that they are bound to backfire. James Bond has to win because otherwise the whole canonical universe would become unusable. Not that Bond doesn't try everything in his power to screw it up. Even after hearing Goldfinger's entire secret plan, he only barely manages to save the day by convincing Goldfinger's right hand woman to do it for him.


"Oh don't look at me. She's the one who'll be doing all the work."

The differences in quality are so vast that the two almost shouldn't be compared. The Bond Films are idiotic, nonsensical drivel in comparison to the grounded masterpiece that is Secret Agent. However for some reason James Bond is the much more popular and well-known franchise. Perhaps it's the higher budget and flashy special-effects, even though Secret Agent is often better at those, too.

Exhibit 2: Gadgets

All spies have to use fancy tools to save the world — because it's really cool to watch. Who doesn't get excitement from the technologies that make it possible to listen to secret conversations or track down criminals? Though James Bond does get some arguably neat secret weapons and tech, he always manages to lose them or destroy them in some bumbling foolish manner. Also, Bond's inventions are often beyond the realm our modern world, and require a suspension of disbelief.

John Drake instead often uses tools actual spies use such as bugs and microdots. That doesn't mean they aren't fun. The most fascinating part of each episode is witnessing Drake's plans unfold, and how he uses his technological tools is simply a part of that entertaining process. Realism does not inhibit creativity.

Beyond their use, the neat factor of these gadgets comes in how Drake transports them. In one episode, rather than an impossibly small phone in his shoe, Drake must obtain a radio while undercover by intercepting a package of meat that has the transmitter hidden inside. My personal favorite so far is a blowgun in the shape of the fishing rod that shoots listening bugs. The cleverness of the show never ceases to amaze me.

Exhibit 3: Charisma

Simply put, a secret agent has to be likable. Without charm, an agent would be unable to assume alternate identities convincingly– and also not be fun to watch. James Bond does not have the redeeming qualities needed to be a good agent: he is actively bad at his job. Morevoer, he cares more about dating than the fate of the world; in one grotesque scene in Goldfinger he actively forces himself onto a woman for no reason but selfishness.

Once again, the comparison is stark: John Drake is the complete opposite. He is the best at what he does, and because of that he never loses, but it's never a given. It's always his own wit that gets him out of close shaves and tough jobs. He also has an incredibly strong moral compass, always trying to do the right thing.


John Drake, equally at home as the suave man of society and a meek music aficionado.

This makes for incredibly interesting tension with MI9, the organization he works for, because they sometimes send him on missions that aren't necessarily moral. The internal conflict of Drake doing his work because he's the best at it, but sometimes having to do "wrong" things in that line of work creates wonderful character drama.


Drake has no qualms about telling off his bosses. But he does the job anyway.

Exhibit 4: Partners

Secret Agent consistently has some of the best portrayals of female characters on all of television. Many women fall for John Drake due to his innate and thorough confidence, and yet not once does he ever make a move. He is incredibly respectful and human in his treatment of women, as equals rather than objects for physical pleasure. And though many women are attracted to Drake, that does not lessen them as characters. The wealth of interesting and strong female characters on this show is unparalleled in any other broadcast I've ever seen.

In fact, Secret Agent goes out of its way to feature women, agents and otherwise, who are as talented and and resourceful as Drake. There are often several in an episode. Beyond that, the globetrotting Danger Man frequently works with locally based allies. Whether Western European or Eastern, South Asian or African, Caribbean or Middle Eastern, Drake's counterparts are played as competent professionals, and (usually) by actors of the appropriate background (with the occasional, unfortunate example of "brown/black/yellow face").

It's truly both astounding and refreshing to see such wonderful representation, and the willingness to let Drake share the limelight with other strong characters makes each episode almost an ensemble production.

Q.E.D.

It is, thus, irrefutable that Secret Agent is the best spy show ever to be shown on a screen — of any size. It is perfection, with sublime writing, engaging acting, fascinating characters, realism, and a progressiveness desperately needed but rarely seen anywhere else. It is currently midway through its second season in America, and there will hopefully be a third in Britain at the end of summer. Whichever side of the Pond you live on, please make sure to catch Secret Agent. You won't want to miss it.

This is the Young Traveler, signing off.



[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! You can dispute the Young Traveler's presentation. You'll be wrong, of course…]




[June 12, 1965] The Number of the Bests


by John Boston

The Collectors

SF anthologies are not neutral vessels.  They are shaped by editors with agendas.  Sometimes these are as simple as “what can I throw together to make some money,” but usually they advance the editor’s conception of what the field is, or should be. 

The first “best of the year” compilation in SF was the well-received The Best Science Fiction Stories: 1949, edited by Everett F. Bleiler and T.E. Dikty, published by Frederick Fell in 1949 but containing stories from 1948.  The Bleiler-Dikty anthologies spawned a companion series, TheYear’s Best Science Fiction Novels (i.e., novellas), which ran from 1952 through 1954.  Bleiler left the project in 1955, to the detriment of its quality, and the series died with a final single volume from Advent, a small specialty publisher, in 1958.


by Frank McCarthy

There was abortive competition along the way.  Donald A. Wollheim of Ace Books, a long-time anthologist, published Prize Science Fiction (McBride, 1953), containing 1952 stories supposedly comprising the winners and runners-up for that year’s Jules Verne Prize, an award and a book title that were not heard of again.  The next year August Derleth, another veteran anthologist, published Portals of Tomorrow (Rinehart, 1954), collecting stories from 1953 and pointedly subtitled The Best of Science Fiction and Other Fantasy.  The editor described it as “covering the entire genre of the fantastic: not only supernatural and science-fiction tales, but also every kind of whimsy and imaginative concept of life in the future or on other planets,” apparently distinguishing it from the Bleiler-Dikty series without mentioning it.  There was no second volume.

But Judith Merril achieved ignition, and kept it.  Her series of annual anthologies shows no signs of flagging after nine years.  The first, SF: The Year’s Best Science Fiction and Fantasy, appeared in 1956, with 1955 stories, from the SF specialty publisher Gnome Press, in an unusual publishing arrangement: a Dell paperback edition appeared in newsstands, drugstores, etc., more or less simultaneously with the publication of the Gnome hardcover, rather than after the usual year or so interval before paperback publication.  After four volumes, as Gnome tottered towards oblivion, Merril jumped to Simon and Schuster, which published the fifth through ninth books.  We await the tenth, slated for December.


by Ed Emshwiller

Merril’s angle from the first was good SF as good literature, accessible to the non-fanatical reader, with emphasis on character—not necessarily character-driven, but more concerned with the perspective and experience of recognizable human individuals than much SF.  Her taste in cherry-picking the SF magazines was near-impeccable.  She also looked beyond the SF magazines and the writers identified with them.

The latter practice has been both a strength and a weakness, bringing to the SF-reading public many worthy stories that they otherwise would never have heard of, but also including some items that seemed trivial or misplaced but came from a prestigious source or with a prestigious byline.  As a result, the Merril series has become woolier and more diffuse in focus over the years.  Her last volume included stories from Playboy (two), the Saturday Evening Post, the Saturday Review of Literature, the Peninsula Spectator, The Reporter, and the Atlantic Monthly, and such large literary bylines as Bernard Malamud and Andre Maurois, the latter with a novelette that may have been the best of 1930, when it was first published.  Oh, and three cartoons.  Of course it also included, as always, a large and solid selection of indisputable SF and fantasy, both from the genre magazines and from other sources.

Merril’s agenda is clear.  Let her tell you about it.  In her introduction to the last of the Gnome volumes, she wrote:

“The name of this book is SF.
SF is an abbreviation for Science Fiction (or Science Fantasy).  Science Fiction (or Science Fantasy) is really an abbreviation too.  Here are some of the things it stands for. . . .
S is for Science, Space, Satellites, Starships, and Solar exploring; also for Semantics and Sociology, Satire, Spoofing, Suspense, and good old Serendipity. . . .
F is for Fantasy, Fiction and Fable, Folklore, Fairy-tale and Farce; also for Fission and Fusion; for Firmament, Fireball, Future and Forecast; for Fate and Free-will; Figuring, Fact-seeking, and Fancy-free.
“Mix well.  The result is SF, or Speculative Fun.”

English translation, if you need one: What she thinks the SF field is, or should be is . . . not really a field.  That is, not categorically distinguishable in any clear-cut way from the general body of literature, though having a somewhat different set of preoccupations than the typical contemporary novel or short story.

You can debate her argument, but I’m not inclined to.  I think if Merril did not exist it would be necessary to invent her, or someone similar, to help rescue the field (that word again!) from excessive insularity.  I am also glad to have her book to read each year, exasperating as some of its contents may be. 

Yin and Yang

But not everyone feels that way, and it is not surprising that there is once again some competition.  Donald Wollheim is back for a second try, with co-editor Terry Carr, a long-time SF fan and shorter-time author now working at Ace Books, with that publisher’s World’s Best Science Fiction: 1965, a chunky original paperback with a distinct “back to basics” air about it, though there’s no comment at all about Merril’s book and nothing that can be read as a disguised dig at it.

So what’s the more overt angle, besides “here are some stories we think are good”?  First, the title does not include “Fantasy,” a word which for Merril covers a multitude of exogamies.  And the “World’s Best” in the title is not ceremonial; the editors make much of having scoured the world, and not just the US, for stories.  The back cover says “Selected from the pages of every magazine regularly publishing science-fiction and fantasy stories in the United States, Canada, Great Britain, Australia, and the rest of the world. . . .” The yield: five non-US stories, of seventeen in the book.  Two of these are from the British New Worlds, which is not exactly news, but the others are from less familiar sources, though they are closer to the Anglo-American genre core than some of Merril’s catches.

First of these three is Vampires Ltd., by Josef Nesvadba, a Czech psychiatrist and well-known SF writer, the title story of his recent collection, about the current preoccupation with fast automobiles; the protagonist accidentally gets his hands on an especially fine one, and per the title, finds out that it doesn’t really run on gasoline.  We reach that denouement by way of a surreal and hectic series of events which makes little pretense to plausibility.  But that is beside the author’s point, which is satire.  It’s an interesting look at a different notion of storytelling than you will find in the US SF magazines.  The Weather in the Underground, by Colin Free, best known for his work for the Australian Broadcasting Commission, from the Australian magazine Squire, is more consistent with US conventions.  It takes place in an underground habitat where part of humanity has fled for safety, leaving the rest to freeze in a new ice age.  This life is made tolerable by constantly renewed psychological conditioning, but our protagonist’s conditioning never quite took hold, so he’s miserable and maladjusted, leading to banishment and a sorry end.  It’s a strikingly vehement story, very tightly written and forceful, and one of the best in the book.

The third non-US/UK offering is What Happened to Sergeant Masuro?, by Harry Mulisch, from The Busy Bee Review: New Writing from the Netherlands.  Mulisch is apparently a notable Dutch literary figure, with eight books published.  Sergeant Masuro was a soldier in a Dutch patrol in Papua New Guinea; one of the other soldiers raped a native girl, or tried to; the headman was later seen skulking around; and Sergeant Masuro began to undergo a terrible transformation.  The story is the report to headquarters by the patrol’s superior officer, who recounts both the events and his own anguish at some length.  Amusingly, the plot—white men go into the jungle, transgress against the natives, and are cursed—is a long-familiar pulp plot of which dozens of examples could no doubt be exhumed from Weird Tales, Jungle Stories, and the like.  The literary gloss doesn’t add much to it.

Aside from these foreign trophies, the book is a stiff gust of de gustibus.  Of the five stories which one of us at Galactic Journey thought worthy of five stars (excluding several outright fantasies from Fantastic), none are included.  Nor are any included from our longer end-of-the-year Galactic Stars list.  Of the stories that are in the book, only two were awarded four stars, and one—Leiber’s When the Change-Winds Blow—fled the wrath of Gideon with only one star.

And much of what is here is remarkably pedestrian or worse.  The editors seem determined to reproduce the genre’s weaknesses as well as its strengths.  Starting the book is Tom Purdom’s Greenplace, which features such lively matters as a psychedelic drug and a man in a wheelchair being beaten by a mob, but is essentially an extremely contrived and implausible warning about a genuine problem: how democracy can survive, or not, as psychological manipulation becomes more sophisticated.  Next, and proceeding downhill, Ben Bova and Myron R. Lewis’s Men of Good Will is an equally implausible, but more trivial, story built around a scientific gimmick that’s not even entirely original (remember Jerome Bixby’s The Holes Around Mars?). 

This is followed by Bill for Delivery, by that faithful purveyor of contrived yard goods Christopher Anvil, about the problems some salt-of-the-earth spacemen have carrying a cargo of unruly and dangerous birds from one star system to another.  At this point, a reader who bought the book thinking it was time to check out this “science fiction” stuff people are talking about would probably start to think “How can anybody possibly be interested in this?” and toss it or leave it on the bus.

There’s more of this ilk later on: C.C. MacApp’s weak and gimmicky For Every Action, and Robert Lory’s The Star Party, an annoyingly slick rendition of an original but silly idea.  And Leiber’s When the Change-Winds Blow answers the question that hardly anyone is asking: “What does a talented author do when he can’t think of anything of substance to write?”

But that’s the bad news.  The good news is a number of worthwhile stories.  Four Brands of Impossible by new writer Norman Kagan is at once an amusing picture of aspiring math and science brains in their element, and a chilling one of the uses to which their talents may be put, wrapped around an interesting mathematical idea.  William F. Temple’s A Niche in Time is a smart time travel story that goes off in an unexpected direction.  John Brunner’s The Last Lonely Man (one of the New Worlds items) develops a clever piece of psychological technology in the author’s earnest and methodical way.  Edward Jesby, another new writer, contributes the stylish and incisive Sea Wrack, which starts out as a tale of the idle and decadent rich in a far future where some humans have been modified to live undersea, and and turns into a story of class struggle, no less. 

Philip K. Dick’s Oh, To Be a Blobel! is a sort of slapstick black comedy updating Kafka’s The Metamorphosis.  Thomas M. Disch’s Now Is Forever is a sharp if overlong piece of sociologizing about the effects of wide availability of matter duplicators, which kick the props from under everyone’s getting-and-spending way of life.  New writer Jack B. Lawson’s The Competitors is a breezy rearrangement of stock SF elements that reads to me like a facile parody of the genre, probably done with A.E. van Vogt in mind.

To my taste the most striking item here is Edward Mackin’s New Worlds story The Unremembered, a sort of religious fantasy framed in SF terms.  In the automated and urbanized future, lives have been extended for hundreds of years, but the show seems to be closing from sheer ennui: the birth rate is falling and the youth suicide rate is rising, and older people are queueing up at the euthanasia clinics.  Apparitions of people are appearing and disappearing seemingly randomly, because (it is hinted) the human span has become divorced from its natural length.  The elderly protagonist becomes one of the apparitions, and his consciousness takes a Stapledonian journey through the cosmos before arriving at the final revelation.  C.S. Lewis would appreciate this one if he were still around.  It is quite different from anything I’ve seen from Mackin before, or from anybody else for that matter.

But that’s the only really strikingly memorable story here; closest runners-up are the Colin Free and Edward Jesby stories, based mainly on their intensity in presenting relatively familiar sorts of material.  The writers who are pushing the SF envelope in notable ways are not here—no Lafferty, no Zelazny, no Ellison, no Cordwainer Smith.  And there is too much overt dross.

So, the bottom line: a pretty decent book with much solid material, but it mostly fails the “Surprise me!” test.  Maybe the next one will be more startling.  Meanwhile, Merril will be back to argue with in a few more months.



[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…]




[June 6, 1965] The Dawdle, More Like (Doctor Who: The Chase [Parts 1-3])


By Jessica Holmes

Well, it had to happen eventually. It’s impossible for a writer to knock it out of the park every time, and Terry Nation has batted his first foul ball. I think that’s the metaphor, anyway. But yes, his streak is over, giving us a rather tiresome story, The Chase, that I now bear the burden of talking about for a couple thousand words.

Let’s get on with it, shall we?

THE EXECUTIONERS

I was very excited going into this serial, as of course the Dalek stories we’ve had so far have also brought with them some societal commentary, and I am a big fan of that sort of thing. A bit of running around and zapping things is fun, but if you can give me food for thought at the same time I’ll fall madly in love.

This is not one of those stories.

The first half of the first episode is more or less dedicated to watching the companions watching television IN SPACE. Remember the Time And Space Visualiser the Doctor picked up from the museum? Yes, he gets it fixed so they all gather round to watch historical events across time and space. Because surely that’s much more fun than just using your time machine to visit these places in person. They snoop on the court of Queen Elizabeth I, watch Abraham Lincoln deliver the Gettysburg Address, and at Vicki’s request, they tune in to Top Of The Pops to watch The Beatles. Don’t get me wrong, I like the lads from Liverpool, but this is just pure filler. It serves no purpose whatsoever and honestly it’s quite boring.


Didn't your mothers ever warn you not to sit so close to the telly?

So after all that, the plot finally starts to move, as the TARDIS lands on a desert planet, sand dunes stretching far as the eye can see. The Doctor and Barbara stay by the TARDIS to catch some sun, while Ian and Vicki go exploring. Vicki finds some strange, bad smelling substance on the ground, and she and Ian follow the trail, not knowing that there’s something alive in the sand.

Back at the TARDIS, Barbara hears an awful noise. No, it’s not the Doctor’s singing. The Time And Space Visualiser (gosh, that’s a mouthful, isn’t it? Let’s just call it a Space Telly) has picked up the Daleks in pursuit.

Cue a rather awkward scene in which the Dalek explain their plans for assassinating the TARDIS crew to one another, for nobody’s benefit but the audience. It’s a terribly clumsy way to deliver exposition, and the scene doesn’t get any better as we watch them silently file into their time capsule one by one. There are loads of them and I aged five years in the time it took.

So now that I’m pushing thirty and the Daleks have finally got into their time capsule, the Doctor and Barbara realise it’s time to get going, and fast. However, Ian and Vicki have wandered far away by now.

Vicki finds the end of the trail, and though at first glance nothing seems to be there, Ian finds some sort of ring in the sand, not unlike a door handle. After some deliberation over whether it’s a good idea to be pulling on things without knowing what they are, Ian goes ahead and tugs it, yanking the ring out of the ground, and opening up a hidden passageway.


There's a monster in the shot, honest.

Ever the responsible adult, Ian lets Vicki go in first, and they almost immediately run into a big ugly monster. I give it five minutes before Vicki gives it a name and tries to adopt it as a pet.

Meanwhile, the Doctor and Barbara struggle through a sandstorm in a fruitless attempt to find the two, and once the storm has cleared, they realise to their horror that the landscape has changed entirely, and they can no longer find their way back to the TARDIS.

Worse, however, is the familiar shape rising from the sand…

Eh. It was a lot cooler when they had Daleks coming out of the Thames. So yes, that was a sequence of events. Calling it the beginning of a story feels a bit too generous. I call it a big load of nothing.

Let’s see where The Chase goes from here.

THE DEATH OF TIME

The music accompanying the episode titles in this serial is so ill-fitting it makes me cross. It’s just this weird jazzy sounding thing. I have no idea what tone it’s trying to set, but whatever it is it’s failing abysmally.

Spotting additional Daleks approaching over the dunes, the Doctor and Barbara flee, only to run into a bunch of humanoid fish people, because who else would you be expecting to find in a desert?

Ian and Vicki run away from the monster in the tunnels. I’m not sure it was really making much of an effort to get them.

The Daleks start murdering any local unfortunate enough to wander within shooting range, and identify the planet as Aridia (because it’s arid, get it?).

The Aridians, or fish people as I called them, seem to be a friendly sort (or at the very least not actively hostile), and they give the Doctor and Barbara the standard speech they get from just about every alien culture they come across. Or at least, that’s how it feels. You know the one, it’s about the world once being all lovely then something bad happened and now it’s rubbish so gee, it sure would be nice if someone were to drop in and help us right about now.

Also, they can’t act for toffee. You can’t argue that it’s some sort of artistic choice, like you could with the bee people who communicated through a mixture of weird sing-song voices and interpretive dance.

The Aridians are not like that. They are just plain bad. I’m talking drama-club-at-the-village-hall bad.

Through this haze of weird line delivery and overwrought emoting, the Aridians explain that this was once a watery world where they lived in cities beneath the sea, but the suns moved closer (oh, there are two suns) and the seas dried up, killing everything except the Aridians and the dreaded Mire Beasts.

The Aridians realise that Ian and Vicki must have found their way into one of the old airlocks leading to the city, which is very bad news as they’re about to blow up the tunnels to trap the Mire Beasts.

The group rushes to try to find them, but they’re too late. As a Mire Beast attacks Vicki, the charges go off, sending rubble crashing onto the Mire Beast, killing it stone dead, and knocking Ian unconscious. Vicki runs to look for help, as meanwhile the others arrive to the gates of the city. Though the Doctor is hesitant to involve the Aridians in his troubles with the Daleks, the friendly fish people assure him that they just want to help.


Daleks are keen detectorists.

Elsewhere, the Daleks find where the TARDIS is buried and continue to narrate their own actions. With this much padding, I have to ask if Nation originally wrote a three-or-four-episode serial and was asked by the BBC to stretch it out to six. It’s completely sucking all the tension out of the story.

In the city of the Aridians, the Doctor and Barbara get their first hot meal in a while, though Barbara is too anxious about the others to eat, and the Doctor notes that the food has an odd taste. Now, ordinarily I would take this as a hint that they’ve been given something horrific to eat and that the Aridians have some dark secret behind the friendly facade, but it appears to be a red herring, as nothing comes of it.

Still, I have to wonder what exactly the Aridians are eating if there’s no land suitable for farming and all the animals have died, and they said themselves that they can’t kill the Mire-Beasts, so they can’t be hunting them. So that just leaves…. Well, I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions.

However, the Daleks learn that the Aridians are sheltering the Doctor, and issue an ultimatum: either they hand over the Doctor, or the Daleks will destroy the city. The Aridians have no choice but to hold the Doctor and Barbara as prisoners while they decide what to do.

Vicki manages to find her way back to the TARDIS, discovering that the Daleks have dug it out of the sand with the unwilling help of some Aridians, who they promptly murder once the work is finished. I’ve heard of bad bosses, but that takes the cake.

The Daleks start bombarding the TARDIS, but to their frustration the little wooden box is impervious to their weapons. Appearances, after all, can be deceiving.

The Aridians come to the decision that they have to hand the Doctor and Barbara over, even though I wouldn’t trust a Dalek as far as I could throw one.

Ian wakes up from his little nap (being unconscious for that long, that man needs his head checking out) and gets up to search for Vicki, who has just been snatched in the tunnels by an Aridian.

In the city, Barbara notices dust coming from a bricked-up doorway. It’s apparently blocking off a section of the city that was lost to the Mire Beasts. It’s rather shoddy work considering it’s meant to keep literal monsters at bay. The Aridians drag Vicki in, and she tells them what she saw. However, before they can discuss plans of escape any further, the Aridians come to collect them for the handover to the Daleks.

It’s at this point the Aridians’ shoddy brickwork comes back to bite them. A tentacle bursts through the wall, ensnaring Barbara. In the ensuing struggle, she manages to break free. The companions flee the scene, leaving the Aridians to their fate at the tentacles of the Mire Beast. See, this is why you check reviews before hiring your builder.


Hm, maybe it should have stayed in the shadows.

The Daleks issue the Aridians a further ultimatum upon learning of the companions’ escape. They have one hour to recapture them, or the Daleks will destroy the city. For a Dalek, that’s a surprising display of patience.

The Doctor, Barbara and Vicki run into Ian in the tunnels. Ian comes up with a plan to evade the Daleks and get back into the TARDIS. He asks for Barbara’s cardigan (nicely, this time) and the Doctor’s coat, and uses them to construct a simple pitfall trap.

While the women wait for their chance to make a break for it, the Doctor and Ian catch the attention of the Dalek on guard. The stupid thing blunders into the trap, and the companions make a break for it, their ship dematerialising as the Daleks open fire.

This is actually a decent and fun scene. I have to call attention to it, because those are so very rare in this serial.

Other than that, all I can really say about this episode is…nothing, really. Not particularly bad, not particularly good, mostly dull with a good bit or two. It garners a shrug and a ‘eh’. It exists.

FLIGHT THROUGH ETERNITY

The TARDIS flees through time and space, while the Daleks waste a lot of time talking about their plans to follow them at once rather than just doing it. It’s an absolute tension killer.

Inside the TARDIS, the companions’ celebration of their escape gets cut short when the Space Telly detects another time machine pursuing them again.

Also, there’s a really obvious cardboard cutout on the Dalek ship. Look, I don’t mind being creative to stay in budget, but if you’re going to use a cardboard cutout, stick it in the background of a shot.

The TARDIS needs to land for…some reason, and the Doctor plonks it in the land of stock footage. Gee, I wonder which city this is?

Oh, of course, it’s New Amsterdam.

Silly me.

To the people of the United States of America: I apologise for the travesty that is to follow. I’m talking about the accents. Oh, boy. The accents. They are absolutely atrocious.

Well, at least we’re now even for Mary Poppins.

There’s yet! More! Padding! As a tour guide shows a bunch of tourists the famous New York landmarks from the top of the Empire State Building, which is where the TARDIS has just materialised.


'Maybe if we ignore him long enough, he'll go away.'

Upon emerging from their ship, they meet a man from Alabama who embodies just about every stereotype about American southerners you can imagine. It’s honestly embarrassing. He’s a friendly enough chap though, telling Barbara that the current year is 1966. He's very curious about how they appeared seemingly from nowhere. The companions manage to brush him off and depart, but the Daleks arrive moments later, demanding to know where they went.

In the greatest display of patience I have ever seen, the Daleks don’t just shoot him for being annoying. He thinks this is all some Hollywood lark.


That's not a microphone, buddy.

Back in the TARDIS, the companions learn the Daleks are still hot on their heels. They need to find a way to fight back.

The next landing spot is a nineteenth-century sailing ship somewhere off the Azores, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Barbara can’t resist having a look around, leading her into trouble when an officer accosts her. Luckily for Barbara, Vicki soon comes to give the officer a good whack on the head. Hearing someone else coming, Barbara tells Vicki to hide. Vicki gives the newcomer a good whack, before realising it was just Ian. Poor Ian. It’s a wonder he has any functioning brain cells left.

The women manhandle a dazed Ian back onto the TARDIS, which vanishes as the officer wakes up. He informs the captain of what he found, and the captain rallies the crew to search the ship. However, it’s not long before the Daleks show up, terrifying the sailors so much that they leap overboard, which strikes me as a bit of a silly thing to do.

The Daleks search the now-abandoned ship, finding no sign of the TARDIS, and continue the chase. We then have a long, long series of shots of the abandoned ship. It's the Mary Celeste.

The TARDIS whizzes off into time and space, but they’re losing their lead on the Daleks. They’d better hope that the Doctor manages to finish his secret weapon before the Daleks catch up.

Final Thoughts

Here we are. That was the first half of The Chase. Suffice to say, I am underwhelmed. There’s no interesting philosophical or social angle. It’s not even an exciting prolonged chase sequence. There are far too many lulls in the action and too much obvious padding.

The Daleks feel completely ineffective. They spend too much time dithering to seem like an unstoppable force of death.

The Aridians were just rubbish. Although we haven’t seen any real conclusion of what happens to them, frankly I just don’t care.

Even as an adventure, a romp, this serial doesn’t work. Let’s compare it to The Keys Of Marinus, for example. Both serials involve the companions travelling in rapid succession from one place to another. However, The Chase is more of a whistle-stop tour than a real adventure. In The Keys Of Marinus, the companions had some sort of obstacle to overcome at each destination. After Aridia, they bounced from one location to the next. There’s no real reason for them to have got out of the TARDIS at all in New York or on the ship, other than to trot out a few new sets and some dodgy accents. Then they just get back in again and leave. That’s not an adventure, that’s tourism.

I do hope that the serial improves from here. However, past experience would indicate that a serial which starts poorly ends poorly. I wouldn’t hold my breath.






[June 2, 1965] Heck in a Handbasket (July 1965 IF)

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by David Levinson

May has been a chaotic month. War – and not just in the places you might be aware of – unrest, political ups and downs. I’ve frequently found myself thinking of the opening stanza of W. B. Yeats’s marvelous The Second Coming. Hopefully, no rough beasts are slouching anywhere.

Signs of War

The month got off to a bad start in the wee hours of the first when Communist and Nationalist Chinese naval forces clashed off the coast of Tungyin Island. The next day, President Johnson went on television to explain the American invasion of the Dominican Republic. There, at least, American troops have since begun to be replaced by OAS forces.

Less well-known to American readers, though perhaps known to our British audience and certainly to those in Australia, is the ongoing conflict on the island of Borneo. For the last couple of years as part of granting former colonies their independence, the United Kingdom has been working to establish the nation of Malaysia on the Malay Peninsula and nearby islands which have been under British control. Some of those areas are in northern Borneo, and President Sukarno of Indonesia would prefer that all of Borneo, at the very least, go to his country. There have been several skirmishes between British and Malaysian forces on the one side and the Indonesian army on the other. Australian forces have borne the brunt of much of the fighting. Just last week, units of the 3rd Battalion of the Royal Australian Regiment crossed into Indonesian territory and clashed with Indonesian troops along the Sungei Koemba river. This looks to be the first move in a larger effort, and we can expect further fighting through the summer.


Private Neville Ferguson of the 3RAR patrols near the Sarawak-Kalimantan border

Signs of Unrest

On May 5th, several hundred people carried a black coffin to the draft board in Berkeley, California in a protest march against U.S. involvement in the Dominican Republic. Once there, 40 young men, mostly students at the university, burned their draft cards. On May 22nd, another protest march descended on the Berkeley draft board. This time, 19 men burned their draft cards, and LBJ was hanged in effigy. This second march was likely protesting American involvement in Viet Nam.

Another form of protest has been sweeping American university campuses: the teach-in. Back in March, some 50 professors at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor planned a one day strike to protest the war in Viet Nam. Facing opposition from Governor George Romney and the legislature, they turned it into an all-night event featuring debates, lectures, films and music. It was dubbed a “teach-in,” the name being modeled on the sit-ins of the civil rights movement.

Several more of these events have taken place on college campuses around the country since then. A teach-in at the University of California at Berkeley on May 21st-22nd drew a crowd estimated at 30,000 people. (Honestly, if they’re not careful, that town’s going to get a reputation.) Speakers included Dr. Benjamin Spock, Norman Mailer, comedian Dick Gregory, several members of the California Assembly, journalist I. F. Stone, Mario Saavio of the Free Speech Movement (as you might expect), and many others. Expect to see more of these when people go back to university in the fall.


Folk singer Phil Ochs performs at the Berkeley teach-in

Signs of Peace?

Paraphrasing Winston Churchill, Harold Macmillan once said, “Jaw, jaw is better than war, war.” As ineffective as the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne might be, even Retief would probably agree with the sentiment. There has been good and bad news on the diplomatic front in the last month. West Germany formally established diplomatic relations with Israel on May 12th. Of course, Saudi Arabia, Syria, and Iraq promptly broke off relations with West Germany in retaliation. Cambodia also broke off diplomatic relations with the United States on May 3rd. Detractors say it was because Newsweek ran an article accusing Prince Sihanouk’s mother of engaging in various money-making schemes. It probably had more to do with American bombing raids on North Vietnamese supply lines running through Cambodian territory. Hmmm, I guess that’s mostly bad news.

Signs of Improvement

And in the realm of science fiction, particularly my little corner of the Journey, I have good news: while the quality of IF had shown a noticeable decline of late, there’s quite an uptick with this month's issue.


Abe Lincoln goes spearfishing in “The Last Earthman”. Art by McKenna

Research Alpha, by A. E. van Vogt and James H. Schmitz

Barbara Ellington is a typist at Research Alpha, a private research and development firm. She works directly for the number two man at the company, John Hammond, as an assistant to his secretary Helen Wendell. While she is getting some water from a drinking fountain, Dr. Henry Gloge, head of the biology division, secretly injects her with his current project, the Omega serum. Gloge also injects her boyfriend, Vince Strather, a hot-headed young man who is pressuring her towards “premarital intimacy”.

Through a meeting between Hammond and Gloge, we learn that the Omega Point Stimulation project is intended to push an organism through a million years of evolution over a course of four injections. Thus far, none of the test subjects – all giant salamanders known as hellbenders – has survived the third injection, and very few have survived even the second. Gloge is convinced that he would have more success with higher order animals. That is the reason he has abandoned proper research protocols and injected Barbara and Vince, both of whom he is ready to kill if either of them reacts badly.

Barbara responds well, while Vince does not. Hammond and Wendell begin to notice strange readings on a scale the reader is not privy to. There is clearly more to these two than meets the eye, and they appear to have connections around the world. Meanwhile, Barbara figures out what’s going on and begins to take control of her fate.


Does anyone else expect to see James Bond walk into that circle, turn and shoot? Art by Gaughan

The blurb on the cover claims this story is written by “[t]wo of science fiction’s greatest writers”. That’s overstating the case to the point of outright falsehood. Van Vogt is a fairly polarizing writer. Some writers (Phil Dick and Harlan Ellison come to mind) and a segment of the fan community love his work, others hate it. Damon Knight, for example, absolutely savaged him back in 1945 in a review of The World of Null-A. His plots are flimsy and his characters paper thin. On top of that, he spent the better part of a decade selling Dianetics to gullible Angelenos, rather than writing. He kept his name in front of the fans through reprints and fix-ups and has only recently started writing again. Schmitz, on the other hand, is a sound writer who does very good characters and isn’t afraid to put women front and center. But somehow he doesn’t seem to stay on anyone’s radar between stories.

So, I came to this rather long piece with a great deal of trepidation. But I liked it a lot. At a guess, I’d say the basic plot is van Vogt’s and most of the writing is Schmitz’s. Sure, evolution absolutely doesn’t work that way, but this sort of thing has been a part of science fiction since at least Edmond Hamilton’s “The Man Who Evolved,” and we saw it not too long ago on The Outer Limits. Barbara could easily have been a victim who eventually drops the unworthy Vince for the handsome and charismatic John Hammond, the man who actually solves the problem. But she isn’t and she doesn’t. She takes charge, out-thinks the superman and wraps things up the way she wants. I wavered between giving this a high 3 or a low 4. After thinking about it, I decided that Barbara’s characterization is enough to put the story over the top. Four stars.

The Last Earthman, by Lester del Rey

A thousand years after the discovery of faster-than-light travel, the Earth is relegated to a myth, its name largely forgotten. That is because, soon after the human Diaspora into the galaxy, a war was fought on Earth that devastated the environment, leaving behind a few tens of thousands of survivors, whose fertility has gradually decayed.

Twenty years before the start of the story, Egon from the planet Dale crashed on Earth, finding a mere handful of survivors, though the planet itself is again bountiful. While traveling with them to the Ember Stake for one of their rituals, he fixed an ancient mechanism and awoke Herndon, a man who had been placed in suspended animation during the war. He was supposed to have awakened after a time to help put civilization back together, but something went wrong. Now, Egon, Herndon, and Cala, a sterile young woman, are the only ones left. They are returning to the Ember Stake so that Herndon can be placed back in suspended animation when he dies. As they approach, a ship appears in the sky.

This is a melancholy piece, but one tinged with hope. It’s also a reminder that del Rey can really write when he puts his mind to it. It’s hard to say more without giving the whole story away. A solid three stars.

The Fur People, by D. M. Melton

On Mars, there is enough air in the deep canyons and ancient seabeds to support life. The most important life form is a lichen from which it is possible to derive an anti-aging drug. This has brought the moss hunters. As in any gold rush, some men make their fortune, some manage to make enough to get by, while others barely scrape by and still others disappear entirely. The other life form of note is the rock puppies, cute and sociable little creatures that some find endearing and share food and water with, and others find annoying and use for target practice.

Moss hunter Bart “Lucky” Hansen, traveling with an orphaned rock puppy, is contemplating his route when he decides on a whim to take a risky shortcut across a high plateau. On the way, he encounters a young woman, clearly fresh from Earth, staggering across the desert. He rescues her and gets her to safety in a deep canyon. After explaining that she was attacked by a group of moss hunters, she hijacks Hansen’s sand car and heads for the nearest dome. Hansen is picked up by the group chasing her and travels with them until they catch up with the woman. Hansen then manages to get to her side, and the two of them try to figure out a way to escape.


The girl and Hansen meet again. Art by Giunta

Melton is this month’s first time author. It shows. The title, along with Hansen wondering why fur people are always nicer than skin people, really gives the game away. There’s also the fact that the young woman at the heart of this story never gets a name and is always referred to as “the girl”. (From this, I infer that the D in the author’s name is more likely to stand for Daniel than Dorothy.) Still, it’s not a bad first effort, and I wouldn’t mind seeing more from this author. A low three stars.

In Our Block, by R. A. Lafferty

Intrigued by the shanties that have sprung up on a dead-end block and the fact that a shack seven feet on a side put out enough 8” x 8” x 3’ cartons to fill a 40 foot trailer in one morning, Art Slick and Jim Boomer take a walk around the block. On the way, they meet several odd people.

That’s it. That’s the whole story. But it’s quintessential Lafferty. If you like Lafferty, you’ll like this story; if you don’t, you won’t. Three stars.

Wow, this is turning out to be a pretty good issue. What could possibly spoil it?

Skylark DuQuesne (Part 2 of 5), by E. E. Smith

Oh. Right. Sigh.

Seaton and Crane have commandeered the output of hundreds of planets and set up a production area covering ten thousand square miles to create defenses. Against one man. Seaton then interacts with several characters I presume are from the earlier novels. No point to it, just old familiar faces for the fans. Following all that, Seaton receives the message sent out by DuQuesne at the end of the last installment. After being filled in on DuQuesne’s encounter with the Llurdi, Seaton invites him to the Skylark of Valeron for further consultation.

Cut to the Jelmi, still fleeing the Llurdi. On the way, their senior scientist just happens to invent teleportation (as you do). Now they need to find a solar system emanating enough sixth-order energy to screen them from their enemies. After nearly a month of searching, the finally find the Earth’s solar system. Finding the Moon uninhabited, with only a couple of abandoned American and Russian outposts, they deem it suitable for their purposes, land in secret, and begin building a superdreadnaught (sic) to be called the Mallidaxian.

Then they kidnap an exotic dancer and a man she keeps running into by accident from a Florida beach. Why? Because they’re puzzled by her job and the Earth concept of shame. Then the Jelmi pat the couple on the heads, promise them a couple of quarts of diamonds as compensation, and send them home. After going on a bender, the two of them decide to contact a Norlaminian Observer, who kicks the problem upstairs until it reaches Dick Seaton. Now he knows about the Jelmi.

DuQuesne arrives at the Skylark of Valeron and is stunned by its size. Overcome with jealousy, he plans once again to destroy the Skylarkers and set himself up as emperor of a galaxy. Seaton hands over plans of his ship so that DuQuesne can build his own. Then DuQuesne uses a bit of subterfuge to send Seaton and company off to Galaxy DW-427-LU, which the Llurdi are worried about, while he runs off to make contact with the Jelmi.

Having done so, DuQuesne cons the Jelmi, who blithely hand over their plans for the teleporter and ask him to contribute to their genetic diversity (the old-fashioned way). Then it’s back to Earth where he hires half a dozen assassins. Finally, he catches up with the Skylark of Valeron and teleports his killers aboard. Fortunately for the good guys, the gravity aboard is set low for the comfort of some visitors. The killers are killed, and Seaton dives for a control helmet, suspecting rightly that DuQuesne is behind the attack. But at that moment a klaxon sounds. The Skylark of Valeron is under an attack so massive that its defensive screens will surely fail in a matter of seconds. To be continued.


Probably the Mallidaxian, but it could be DuQuesne’s Capital D. Art by Morrow

Last month, I said there was some decent line-by-line writing. Not this time. It’s full of lengthy and pointless digressions. That whole episode with the dancer goes on forever and is only there so that Seaton and DuQuesne can find out about the Jelmi without Seaton actually contacting them. Worse still, Marc DuQuesne goes from a marginally complex figure to an absolute mustache-twirling villain motivated entirely by jealousy and megalomania. But the thing that annoyed me most was the excessive use of the word “wherefore”. It crops up at least half a dozen times in the sense of “as a result” or “knowing that” and it limps badly. I stumbled over it every time. I think it’s a bit of antiquated slang usage and it’s bad. I still haven’t thrown the magazine across the room, so I guess this gets a very, very low two stars.

Summing Up

Other than the toxic exercise in nostalgia that pollutes the end, this is a pretty good issue. If we’re lucky, it’s an indication that IF is coming out of the doldrums. If we aren’t, it’s an indication that Fred Pohl knows how bad Skylark DuQuesne is and that a lot of readers aren’t going to be happy with the pages it’s taking up, wherefore and as a result he’s pulling out all the stops and running the very best stuff he has in the barrel as compensation. That could mean once this is over, he’ll have a lot of mediocrity that needs to run.






[May 28, 1965] Heavyweight's Burden (June 1965 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

How the Mighty have Fallen

Since 1953, Sonny Liston has been a big name in boxing.  Liston's spectacular career, marred by a prison hitch and rumored connections with organized crime, reached its pinnacle when he defeated Floyd Patterson in 1962 to become the world heavyweight champ.

He kept the title for two years, losing it in an upset to newcomer Cassius Clay.  In last week's rematch, Clay, now named Muhammad Ali, beat Liston even more handily.  Ali looks like he'll be keeping his title for a long time.

John W. Campbell Jr.'s Astounding was the heavyweight champion of science fiction magazines in the late 1930s, standing head and shoulders above its pulp competition.  It retained this title all through the Golden Age of SF, which lasted through the 1940s.

For the last fifteen years, Astounding (now called Analog) has maintained the highest circulation numbers, by far, of the science fiction digests.  It survived the mass extinctions of the late 1950s.  Campbell is still at the tiller.

But there are signs that the old champion could become easy pickings for a scrappy newcomer.  A recent flirtation with the "slick" format and dimensions was a dismal failure. The contents of the once-proud magazine have been staid for a long time.  Then, of course, there's Campbell's personal weirdness, his obsession with fringe sciences, his odious opinions on race relations.

That's not to say Analog is an unworthy magazine, but it's got its problems.  Exhibit A of Analog's vulnerability: the latest issue.

Handicapping the Reigning Champion


Did Campbell forget his is a science fiction magazine?

If I were a gambling house, I'd want to give my champion a thorough vetting, analyzing all of its strengths and weaknesses, and coming up with odds of victory accordingly.  Let's imagine the June 1965 issue as a kind of exhibition bout and see how it does.

The Muddle of the Woad, by Randall Garrett


by John Schoenherr

The bell rings, and our champion is looking good.  Randall Garrett is back with his third Lord Darcy story, a magical mystery series set in an alternate 20th Century in which England and France are united, Poland is the big adversary, and sorcery exists alongside technology.  The Lord Detective, along with his tubby Irish spell-casting sidekick, Sean, solve the murders of the Empire's most prestigious citizens.

In the deliciously pun-titled case, Lord Camberton of Kent is found dead in a coffin intended for someone else, his body dyed blue with woad.  Suspicion immediately falls on the Albion Society, a group of druids who reject Christianity.  But is this a red herring?  As with any good mystery, the cast of suspects is limited, and the ending involves the classic summoning of all to a room for a final deduction of the culprit.

Good stuff, as always.  A fine story and a rich universe.  Four stars.

Glimpses of the Moon, by Wallace West


by John Schoenherr

Oh, but now the champion is faltering.  Wallace West, who wrote the rather delightful River of Time offers up a clunker of a tale.  It is the late 1960s, and a three-way race to the Moon between American, the Soviet Union, and Great Britain has ended in something of a tie.  While the representative of the U.S.A. clearly landed first, the Soviets claim that the Moon is the property of whichever country whose skies it happens to be in at any given time.  Thus, ownership cycles with every day.  In the end, it turns out that a fourth power has a much earlier claim on the body.

It's all very silly, but not in a particularly fun way.  Two stars.

Hydrogen Fusion Reactor, by Edward C. Walterscheid

Last month, there was an article on magnetohydrodynamics — the use of magnetic bottles to contain thermonuclear reactions.  This month, the science fact article is exclusively on nuclear fusion.  Indeed, so proud is Campbell of this piece that he gave it the cover.

I was eager to learn about the state of development of this promising power source. Sadly, Walterscheid has not yet learned how to subdivide his points. Or write interesting prose. The result is an impenetrable wall.

Hmmm.  Perhaps the article could be repurposed to line the walls of tomorrow's fusion reactor…

Two stars.  Folks, the champion is staggering!

The GM Effect, by Frank Herbert


by Robert Swanson

Oh boy. Dune author Frank Herbert is back, and with another talking head story.  Unlike his last one, which involved a congressional hearing on a widely distributed superweapon, The GM Effect is about a drug that allows takes to experience former lives.  When it is discovered that this reveals all sorts of unsavory and forgotten tidbits of history (including that a Southern senator is one-quarter black), the drug's developers decide to cancel production.  Then the military comes in, shoots the drug creators, and appropriates their creation.

Not only is the story rather pointless, it's distasteful.  Herbert seems to be gleeful that Lincoln was personally no great lover of black Americans, and when the murdering general describes the erstwhile scientists as "N*gg*r lovers," I get less the sense that the utterer is supposed to be the bad guy and more that the author was delighted to be able to squeeze the word into a story.

One star…and our champion is down, folks!  He's down!

Duel to the Death, by Christopher Anvil


by John Schoenherr

Nearly 30 years ago, Analog's editor wrote Who Goes There.  One of the genre's seminal stories, it details the infiltration of an Antarctic base by a body-snatching alien, one that spreads via touch.  The result is that one cannot tell friend from foe anymore.  It's a chilling premise that has since been used to great effect, for instance by Robert Heinlein in The Puppet Masters..

Duel is a fairly straight entry in the genre.  A spacer on a new planet has his suit punctured by some sort of dart, and he quickly succumbs to alien control.  The purloined body becomes Ground Zero of an alien invasion that quickly takes over a nearby space fleet.  Thus ensues a race against time: can the Terran Navy defeat this scourge before it absorbs the whole of humanity?

Most of this story is quite good, with some very interesting story-telling, often from the point of view of inanimate objects: the space suit of the first victim, the ship's sensors of the investigating fleet, the communications devices employed by the humans.

But, to distinguish Duel from its predecessors, the author ends the piece with a twist that doesn't quite work.  I understand it, I think, but I don't quite buy it.

Three stars — good enough to bring our champion back to his feet, but flawed enough that he leaves the ring dazed.

Summing Up

Running our champion's performance through the Star-O-Vac, we come up with a rating of just 2.5.  That's pretty bad.  In a head-to-head against the other magazines of this month (and there was a bumper crop), how would Analog have fared?

Not well, it turns out.  Partly, it's because the competition was quite strong: Fantasy and Science Fiction ended up on top with an impressive 3.5 rating.  Worlds of Tomorrow garnered 3.2 stars and Galaxy got 3.1.  Both Amazing and New Worlds got three stars, while Fantastic and Science Fantasy finished at a sub-par 2.8.

Only If ranked lower than Analog, meriting just 2.2 stars (sorry David!)

So, a disappointing performance by Campbell's mag augurs poorly for it. Will there be a Muhammad Ali of science fiction publications?

(P.S. Women wrote six of the 55 fiction pieces this month; none appeared in Analog — connection?)






[May 26th 1965] Mind Control, Aldiss and Time Travel (New Worlds and Science Fantasy, June 1965)


by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

After the hoo-ha of celebrating New Worlds’s 150th issue last month, we’re back to some sort of normality. But if you thought things were getting boring – think again! We are all counting down to the much-expected Worldcon in the Summer, only a couple of months away from the time I’m writing. This includes the magazines themselves.

But first, let’s get to the issue that arrived first in the post this month: the June issue of Science Fantasy.

We have another painting on the cover by the prolific Keith Roberts. I almost like this one, although your guess as to what it shows is as good as anyone else’s.

Interestingly, a glance at the front and back covers shows us (once again) names mentioned that are not in this issue. This includes the aforementioned Keith Roberts, with stories clearly held over for some reason. And whither, Philip Wordley?

On a more positive note, I do like Kyril’s Editorials, perhaps more than Mike Moorcock’s in New Worlds. Mike’s prose always comes across as a lecture, whilst Kyril’s is more chatty. This may be relevant this month, as Kyril uses an Aldiss quote at a starting point,"The job of a critic consists of knowing when he is being bored, and why", and then takes to task the term ‘well-written’, a phrase I have been guilty of using often in these here articles. He makes the point that well-written can mean that the prose is florid – “it exhibits bursts of purple mandarin-fiction” or is ‘easy to read’ and therefore less boring.

And using that analogy I might be as bold as to say that Moorcock’s New Worlds editorials are erudite, whilst Kyril’s are less boring. His use of a James Bond book to explain this is inspired, although the topic is left with a promise to come back to it at a later date.

To the stories themselves.

The Impossible Smile (part 2 of 2), by Jael Cracken

The second part of this serial by Brian Aldiss under a different name is not the only time we will come across Brian this month. The Impossible Smile begins where we pretty much left off – in a future dystopian state telepath Conrad Wyvern has been captured and taken to the Moon where the artificial intelligence ‘Big Bert’ is waiting. The government through their lunar representative Colonel H hope to link Wyvern to Bert the Brain and so read the minds of the whole population. For Wyvern, the risk is that the process will kill him, as it it did previous test subjects.

So: a fast-paced tale with lots of action and running about. Much of this second part is about what happens when Wyvern & Big Bert are connected, and Wyvern’s subsequent escape from the hospital he is imprisoned in. (I know – he’s on the Moon! Where would he escape to?) There’s some typical inner mind psychedelia and out of body experiences (walls of eyeballs!) which seem rather de rigueur at the moment. All hail the telepathic New Order!

Aldiss continues to tell an entertaining yarn which is great fun, if ultimately rather superficial. Not his best, but still readable. 3 out of 5.

Great and Small, by G. L. Lack

Not a name I immediately know, although he/she was in the New Writings in SF 2 story collection that I couldn’t finish. This is his/her first time in Science Fantasy. Great and Small is a strange little story about a man and his ongoing conversation with a fly, that often seen but generally unnoticeable insect. The man wakes up in a hospital to find a fly buzzing around – but wait! All flies are extinct, thanks to yet another apocalyptic event. The man feeds the fly some jam and then it buzzes off to meet another fly, presumably to dominate the new global ecosystem. As I said, odd and although it is interesting, not really worth much attention. 2 out of 5.

Ploop, by Ron Pritchett

Names are important, aren’t they? I must admit that the childish part of my brain struggled to cope with a character named ‘Ploop’.

Ploop is an alien and this minor story is about its first meeting with another alien race. Unsurprisingly, the aliens are humans and although Ploop looks like a dog it is in fact something else much more dangerous.

Ron is a new author and whilst this is a valiant effort, it shows. I suspect we may not see much more of him. A placeholder using a tired idea. 2 out of 5.

Peace on Earth, by Paul Jents

Paul was last seen with the very odd Unto All Generations in the July/August 1964 issue. This is one of those stories with a twist in the tail, the story of the Earth’s first landing on the Moon with a horrible discovery at the end. Suffice it to say that the Moon is not made of green cheese but has something much worse. Another tired old cliché. 2 out of 5.

Deterrent, by Alastair Bevan

The return of someone who has become a recent regular, that of Keith Roberts by another name. Unsurprisingly, the topline describes Mr Bevan as “one of our best finds”. Deterrent is a story of seemingly primitive cave-people living a tribal existence until they discover what appears to be a nuclear weapon, the unsurprising post-apocalyptic twist in the tale. Not really anything to shout about, as something that has been done before and often. Must admit, though, that it is the first time I’ve ever read of Gods having a “xylophone presence.” 3 out of 5.

A Pleasure Shared, by Brian W. Aldiss

A name that needs no explanation from me – have I reminded you this month yet that he is to be a Guest of Honour at the London Worldcon in August? His prolific nature is noticeable at the moment. Last month he had published two very different stories in the two magazines – this month he has two in the same issue. A Pleasure Shared is however a reprint, first published in the USA in December 1962. The banner heading is very careful to point out that it is not science fiction in the accepted sense of the word, but “a triumph of empathetic fiction” – whatever that means.

What A Pleasure Shared actually is is a contemporary horror story, written from the perspective of a killer. Outwardly Mr Cream seems nice, polite and pleasant, but as we read his internalised monologue here it is clear that he is really not well. He has murdered, more than once. We know this from the beginning, because the woman he killed last night is still in his bedsit room. This would be bad enough but an accident to his widowed neighbour means that things take an unexpected turn at the end. This is really one in the style and tone of William Powell’s film Peeping Tom from a couple of years ago or Robert Bloch’s Psycho. It is shocking and memorable. Is it science fiction? No. But it is a very, very good story. I can see why Kyril has wanted to publish it. The best of the issue for me, and certainly the most memorable. Who would have thought that that nice Mr. Aldiss could come up with something so depraved? Shame its taken so long to appear here in Britain, though. 4 out of 5.

Prisoner, by Patricia Hocknell

Back to something a little more mundane, now. Another story from Patricia, last seen in the January/February 1965 issue with Only the Best. It begins as if the narrator is a convict with no knowledge of where they are or how they got there. All is revealed at the end with another twist in the tale. Again, OK, but nothing really new. 3 out of 5.

In Reason’s Ear, by Pippin Graham

Another new name to me. In this story, John Wetherall is a man recently returned to London after working in West Africa for the UKESCM (the United Kingdom Educational, Scientific and Cultural Mission) who seem to be a branch of the Foreign Office. John finds himself in trouble when after helping an old friend he discovers that the friend is supposedly dead, killed on an expedition to the Moon a few months ago.

I quite liked this one, although it is remarkably mannered. The US Intelligence Service at one point knock on a door to be told “Go away, I don’t answer my door at night”, which they do! This is in marked contrast to some other elements of the story which show a world out of control. Wetherall is shocked to find that London is prone to rampaging teenagers with little police support available to tackle them, and Graham does well to describe what he sees as he goes about the city. There are regular gatherings of these dancing, marijuana-smoking, knife-wielding, riotous young tearaways and they seem to put the rest of the general public in a state of fear – as if the general story of the Moon being dangerous wasn’t enough.

Whilst I see the story as a prime example of paranoiac adults being fearful for their future, I liked some of the ideas shown here. The story fizzles out with a now-traditional enigmatic ending, but overall it kept me reading. Whilst not superlative, and some definite flaws, it is one of this month’s better offerings for me. 3 out of 5.

Xenophilia, by Thom Keyes

A name we’ve come across before, in New Worlds in January 1965. His last story (Election Campaign) was underwhelming. Xenophilia is a story of alien love that begins like Casino Royale in Space before delving into the realms of alien sex. Short, it reads like a more explicit version of the old Bug-Eyed-Monster stories of yesteryear. I suspect that it is meant to shock. However, whilst it is still weird, I found the short story more palatable than his last. 3 out of 5.

Summing up Science Fantasy

Let’s start with a good point. Despite Brian Aldiss appearing twice, there is a greater range of stories this month, and I’m pleased to see that there are both more new writers and even a woman writer in this issue. This can only be good for the field, but only if the material published is good enough to stand merit – in other words, (with apologies to Kyril and Brian Aldiss, paraphrasing the Editorial) it is well-written. And that’s my problem with this issue.

It is clear that there’s been some last-minute changes made to what is included here, and although there’s nothing really bad in this issue, much of it isn’t that good either. The Pippin Graham story was odd yet memorable, whilst the standout by far was the second Aldiss story. Normally this would be a cause for celebration, but it is a reprint. This is not the first time in Science Fantasy or New Worlds in recent months where the best material is old material – a worrying trend. Overall, an oddly underwhelming issue. Not bad but not great.

Let’s go to my second magazine.

The Second Issue At Hand

After last month’s focus on stories, we’re back to normal with Issue 151. There’s book reviews, science articles, letters – and some fiction.

 

The cover shows a change though. The un-credited image shows that we have (finally!) moved away from the circle covers to something less circular and more abstract. It is certainly colourful and grabs your attention, but is it science fiction?

The Editorial also raises the ongoing discussion of what is Science Fiction, a debate that has been going on for months, if not years. Moorcock tries to examine this further but spends much of his time eliminating what Science Fiction is not. The title, ‘Process of Elimination’ explains why. And its findings in the end? Not a lot, other than the definition should be broad rather than narrow. It then looks at how the American magazines have evolved to illustrate this, citing The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction as the best example of how to move on from Campbell’s rather restrictive definition in magazines like Analog. This seems to be a determined attempt to broaden the template of New Worlds, something which Moorcock has been determined to do since he took over as Editor.

 

The Ship of Disaster, by B. J. Bayley

Elen-Gereth – the elf who wants to be Elric.  Art by James Cawthorn.

When this one begins it feels like Bayley has been reading a lot of Moorcock’s Elric stories – the vessel named The Ship of Disaster is a ship captained by Elen-Gereth, an elf, who takes great delight in sinking a human trading vessel and taking hostage its captain, a human named Kelgynn. All of this wouldn’t be amiss in the seas around Elric’s Melnibone, though this lacks the panache of Moorcock’s version. Elen-Gereth is appropriately brooding and complex. However, a story that reads like it should be in Science Fantasy rather than New Worlds has the twist that makes it more science-fictional, although its connection to SF is relatively slight. 3 out of 5.

Apartness, by Vernor Vinge

This is the first story I’ve read from a relatively new American writer. Apartness is a post-apocalyptic tale, with the Earth’s Northern hemisphere destroyed two hundred years ago in the North World War. The regions of the South exist as disparate groups by using a strange combination of science and mysticism – astrologers make decisions based on scientific evidence, for example.

The story is essentially a conflict between two groups in the Antarctic. One of them is a group from the Southern countries and the other a new tribe found on a general observational recce. The twist in the story is that the new group is the offspring of two refugee ships, luxury cruise liners fleeing the conflict. There is talk about what to do with them – should they continue to be observed but undisturbed, or should they be decimated as the descendants of white oppressors?

I enjoyed it a lot and expect to read more of his writing in the future, although it does feel more like something for Analog and The Magazine of Fantasy and SF than New Worlds. But a promising start – I suspect we’ll see more from this talented new writer in the future. 3 out of 5.

Convolutions, by George Collyn

Appropriately dark art for a dark story.  Art by Douthwaite.

George Collyn returns with a story that is quite different to his last, which was In One Sad Day in the April 1965 issue. It is a story of the awakening of an alien that feeds on fear and finds Earth an suitable place for colonisation. One of those very common stories that begins with “Who am I?” and then “Where am I?” (See also Patricia Hocknell’s Prisoner in Science Fantasy this month.) 3 out of 5.

Last Man Home, by R. W. Mackelworth

R W Mackelworth has a tendency of writing strange tales with varying degrees of success. His last was the attempt to be humorous story, The Changing Shape of Charlie Snuff in the April 1965 issue. It didn’t work for me, but this story is less funny and more to my tastes. Even if it is yet another post-apocalyptic story. Here we have bowler-hatted Jennings, a wandering tinker who relates his experiences to us by describing what he has seen and who he has met on his travels in the post-nuclear wilderness. On his arrival in the city-state of Gat we find Jennings and his donkey companion Jess arrive to tell the city elders that there is life in the Wastelands and then returns there. There are positive signs of life, leaving a certain degree of optimism in the end. The emphasis is on what is around Jennings rather than Jennings himself. It’s fine, if too long, but I’ve read it all before – notable for its un-remarkableness. 3 out of 5.

The Life Buyer (Part 3 of 3), by E.C. Tubb

The Sand Pit of Terror! (Actually, Moondust – but you get the idea).  Art by aTom.

We begin the last part of this entertaining three-part serial by following Ransom, the suspect our two detectives Dale Markham and Steve Delmonte have been monitoring. Ransom is looking for Joe Langdy, a search that will take him to the Moon. The first few chapters of this part we spend following Ransom in his search, which is pretty pointless. The end of this revenge story is where the two detectives explain their solution as to who wants to kill millionaire Marcus King. It wraps everything up pretty quickly in the end. It’s a solid enough tale, with the moral that money can’t quite buy you everything. 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews, Articles and Letters

I’m really pleased to see the return of Book Reviews, Science Articles and Letters this month. I missed them last issue.

The Book Reviews seem to want to make up for their absence of last month by taking up what seems like more space than usual this time around. Assistant Editor Langdon Jones deals with the longer, more-in-depth reviews this month of A Man of Double Deed by Leonard Daventry, which is readable, and Sundog by B N Ball, which wasn’t. John Brunner’s Telepathist was surprisingly new and interesting, and seen by Langdon Jones as one of Brunner’s best, before ending with the cryptic comment that it “….will probably be the last really good novel of science fiction that we will see from British writers.”

There are minor reviews for Ray Bradbury’s ‘tremendous’ Something Wicked This Way Comes and Of Demons and Darkness by John Collier, which is ‘repetitive’. John Carnell’s story collection New Writings in SF 2 is given a one-sentence review of “not very interesting”. (And having tried to read it myself, I can only agree.)

Charles Platt gives us one in-depth review this month, under the title of Diary of a Schizoid Hypochondriac. He reviews Brian Aldiss’s Earthworks, which he describes as “a monotonous diary of a schizoid hypochondriac of dubious intelligence who is pushed around throughout the book, including an irrelevant three-chapter flashback, by Higher Powers, until finally discovering an Answer which was obvious to the reader two chapters previously.” Hmm – not a fan then, Mr. Platt?

Editor Mike Moorcock as James Colvin offers us seven ’Quick Reviews’ of After Doomsday and Shield by Poul Anderson, The Martian Way by Isaac Asimov, The Drowned World by J G Ballard, New Writings in SF 3 and Lambda 1 and Others both edited by John Carnell and The Seventh Galaxy Reader edited by Frederik Pohl.

As you might expect from Colvin/Moorcock, he is effusive about the Ballard and the Carnell collections, and more scathing of the American imports. He defends his opinion of Poul Anderson’s work (like Mr Platt earlier, he’s not a fan either), preferring Asimov’s The Martian Way because Asimov is better on the science and more tightly controlled in his writing.

He also makes the claim that although he thought The Magazine of Fantasy and SF was his favourite American magazine, reading The Seventh Galaxy Reader has made him change his mind. (Pause here whilst our reviewer of Galaxy here at Galactic Journey picks himself off the floor…)

One oddity: We have James Colvin, who remember is really Mike Moorcock, reviewing Warriors of Mars by Edward P Bradbury, who is really Mike Moorcock. Confused? An Edgar Rice Burroughs influenced story, it is unsurprisingly “as good as anything by the Old Master”. Hmm.

The article is Gas Lenses Developed for Communications by Laser, a title which describes the article admirably.

The Letters pages continue to debate the ongoing issue of what is science fiction, and therefore what should or shouldn’t be included in New Worlds.


Ratings this month for issue 149 (the April 1965 issue). Life Buyer (part 1) doing well. Lots of joint runners up, which suggests to me either few reader responses or an issue that divides readers.

Summing up New Worlds

This is a good solid issue, though rarely outstanding. I enjoyed it more than the ‘Star Issue’ last month, if I’m honest. The title story I’m not sure that I totally got, but the Tubb serial was nicely done, if a little drawn out. Vernor Vinge is a name to watch out for in the future, I think.

 

Summing up overall

Both issues this month are solid, yet rather mundane. Science Fantasy seems to have gone for more stories and a greater variety, New Worlds has fewer stories but is mostly based on work by more New Worlds regulars. Like last month, the most memorable story (Aldiss’s A Pleasure Shared) is in Science Fantasy, but New Worlds is better overall. It is a lot closer than last month, but in the end this month’s best issue for me is Science Fantasy.

And that’s it for this time. Until the next…