Category Archives: Science Fiction/Fantasy

Comics, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[March 14, 1965] The Old Order Changeth!

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by Jason Sacks

Longtime readers of this magazine may remember the hatred I shared a year or two ago for the fledgling super-hero line published by upstart Marvel Comics. At the time I felt the stories published in such comic book series as Fantastic Four, Spider-Man and Tales to Astonish were crude, unsophisticated and just plain bad. This was especially true when those shambolic comics were compared to the smart, sophisticated science-hero comics published by their chief competitor, National Comics.

It’s shocking how much that equation has changed. National Comics like Flash, Green Lantern and Batman definitely outdo their competition in terms of slickness and a firm basis in pseudo-science. But Marvel has come a long way to making themselves into a modern comic book publisher which embraces the unpredictable 1960s.

The latest proof Marvel’s surprising unpredictability can be found in the current issue of The Avengers.

The Avengers are Marvel’s version of National’s Justice League. They’re a team of the company’s finest super-heroes gathered together to fight evil. Just as the JLA stars headliners like Batman, Hawkman, the Atom and Green Lantern, the Avengers have included in their corps such august members as Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, Giant-Man and the Wasp.

Emphasis in my previous sentence should definitely be on the word have, because as this title of Avengers #16 tells us, “the old order changeth!”

Shockingly, writer Stan Lee has decided to shake up what seemed like a winning formula, removing all but one of those headliners from his super-team. Even more surprising, Lee doesn’t replace Thor or Iron Man with the likes of Spider-Man or Daredevil, who likewise star in their own comic books. No, Lee replaced his stars with a trio of former bad guys now reformed and ready to fight for justice. Only Captain America remains from the former team to lead the villains, so now Cap’s kooky quartet is made up of Captain America, Hawkeye, Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch.

I hear you readers saying, who?

Lee is making an odd, audacious decision by adding these third-rate villains-turned-heroes. That change in the status quo is almost shocking in its brazen rejection of super-hero tradition. Very few super-teams have existed, and even fewer have had their entire lineup shaken up in one fell swoop. And even more shocking is the reason the heroes leave. As the Wasp declares in one memorable panel:

National’s Justice League fight for right and never get tired. Marvel’s Avengers get tired of the fighting, need time off and even casually think about disbanding the team! Who does this stuff? And how can they get away with such a revolutionary take on super-heroes?

Even the reasons the new Avengers join is strange. Okay, so Hawkeye basically walks into the Avengers HQ and demands to become a member (who needs building security when you have super powers, I suppose).

But consider how the mutant siblings Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch come to join the team – by seeing a note in a newspaper that makes its way to their isolated Swiss chalet. Seeing a chance to change their lives, the Witch writes a letter to the Avengers requesting membership (!) – and out of a full bag of applications they are chosen! Just like out of a talent search TV program.

An adoring press meets the mutants as they arrive on the New York City docks, and they are quickly pressed to don their uniforms and announce their Avengers membership to the world. Never mind their previous membership in the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants and their former sworn fealty to the evil Magneto. They suddenly are members of the team Thor and Iron Man have left.

Shockingly, there is not even the slightest implication that one or more of these new Avengers may be trojan horses, infiltrating the team in order to defeat them. No, this is all played straight and seriously, and it appears Lee and his artists are committed to this startling change.

What in the world was Stan Lee thinking? Will sales plunge without the stars or will sales surge as Marvel blazes their own trail? This is just one of a number of moves from a company which seems to be pulling out all the stops to be decidedly different.

I know I’m on the edge of my seat trying to figure out what happens next. It’s as if Bonanza added a whole new cast and just kept Hoss. I may not be ready to join the Merry Marvel Marching Society just yet, but I do know I can’t wait to see what other shocking twists Stan Lee and his pals come up with.




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Magazine

[March 12, 1965] Sic Transit (April 1965 Amazing)

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by John Boston

No-Sale, Sale

The big news, previously rumored, is that Amazing and its stablemate Fantastic are to change hands.  The April Science Fiction Times just arrived, with the big headline “ ‘AMAZING STORIES’ AND ‘FANTASTIC’ SOLD TO SOL COHEN.” Cohen is the publisher of Galaxy, If, and Worlds of Tomorrow, but will resign at the end of next month to take up his new occupation. 

Why is this happening?  Probably because circulation, which had been increasing, started to decline again in 1962 (when I started reviewing it!).  The SF Times article adds, tendentiously and questionably, that “the magazine showed what appeared to be a lack of interest by its editors.” Read their further comment and draw your own conclusions on that point.

Whatever the reason, it’s done.  The last Ziff-Davis issues of both magazines will be the June issues.  Whether they will continue monthly is not known, nor is who will edit the magazine—presumably meaning Cele Lalli is not continuing. 

The Issue at Hand


by Paula McLane

The previous two issues were much improved over their predecessors.  Of course the improvement could not be sustained (viz. the current issue), but it has at least reverted to the slightly less mean than on some occasions.

The Shores of Infinity, by Edmond Hamilton


by George Schelling

Who was it who first said “If you like this sort of thing, this is the sort of thing you will like”?  Dorothy Parker?  Mark Twain?  Pliny the Elder?  Anyway, Edmond Hamilton’s latest in his backwards-looking saga of the far future featuring the Star Kings may not even rise to the level of that truism.  The generically titled The Shores of Infinity spends about 10 of its 33 or so pages on background and build-up, and then the generically named John Gordon of ancient (i.e., contemporary) Earth takes off to the capital of the Galaxy to hobnob with the Emperor in the imperial city of Throon. 

There, he learns of more rumors of the previously encountered mind-controlling menace, is sent off on a dangerous secret mission to investigate, is captured, victimized by treachery and benefited by its reversal, and the author seems as bored by the whole perfunctory and hackneyed business as I was.  It’s ostentatiously inconclusive, so we are guaranteed more.  To paraphrase W.C. Fields, second prize would be two more sequels.

A recurring theme here is Gordon’s alienation from the beautiful Princess Lianna.  This seems to be the special Woman Trouble issue of Amazing; see below.  (Note to Betty Friedan: if the viewpoint characters were female, it would of course be the Man Trouble issue.  Tell women more of them should be writing SF.) Also worth mentioning is the cover, by Paula McLane, which portrays a giant space-helmeted visage peering into a room where two small diaphanous figures are trying to close the door against him.  Obviously metaphorical, right?  Actually, it’s a quite literal rendering of a passing scene in the story.

Anyway, this one has little going for it except the usual space-operatic rhetoric (“The vast mass of faintly glowing drift that was known as the Deneb Shoals, they skirted.  They plunged on and now they were passing through the space where, that other time, the space-fleets of the Empire and its allies had fought out their final Armageddon with the League of the Dark Worlds.”) The problem with this decoration is there’s not much here to decorate.  Two stars, probably too generous.

No Vinism Like Chau-Vinism, by John Jakes


by George Schelling

John Jakes’s long novelet No Vinism Like Chau-Vinism [sic], the title obviously a play on the all too familiar song There’s No Business Like Show Business, inhabits the territory demarcated by Pohl and Kornbluth’s The Space Merchants, Ron Goulart on a good day, and the Three Stooges.  In the future, everything is showbiz.  The populace is entertained and distracted by constant scripted and broadcast warfare between commercial forces, in this case the American Margarine Manufacturers Association versus the United Dairy Expedition Force, fighting of course in Wisconsin.

The script is disrupted by the appearance of a real gun in the hands of the rogue margarineer (Jakes calls them margies) Burton Tanzy of the Golden-Glo Margarine Company, who executes a cow on live TV, initiating a slapstick plot in which among other things besides real guns, the fake commercial war turns into a real union dispute.  The protagonist Gregory Rooke of the Dairy forces must try to calm things down and restore order, lest the public get wind of the fraudulence of their world.  His chief antagonist proves to be his ex-wife, who has dumped him to pursue her overweening ambitions, consistently with the Woman Trouble motif, though things work out better for Rooke than for poor forlorn John Gordon.

This story is actually quite amusing; Jakes has a knack for the farcical tall tale.  Unfortunately it goes on too long and palls a bit by the end, keeping the final reckoning down to three stars.

De Ruyter: Dreamer, by Arthur Porges

Arthur Porges contributes Ensign De Ruyter: Dreamer, another in his tiresome series about the space navy guy who triumphs over cartoonishly stupid extraterrestrials through the clever use of basic science—in this case, it’s Fun with Electromagnetism.  These stories barely rise to the level of filler.  One star.

Greendark in the Cairn, by Robert Rohrer

Robert Rohrer continues in his “almost there” vein with Greendark in the Cairn, featuring a space captain who is either going nuts, or is being driven nuts by transmissions from the extraterrestrial enemy, but figures out how to defeat them and prevent himself from giving the game away.  It’s gimmicky and facile but well rendered.  Two stars, but do try again.

Speech Is Silver, by John Brunner

The earnest John Brunner undertakes a satire of American commercialism in Speech Is Silver, in which the protagonist Hankin is selected in the Soundsleep company’s “Great Search” for the man with the perfect voice for a program of sleep counseling—that is, counseling while one sleeps on how to handle the difficulties of the day.  Except of course that’s not really how things work, and his new-found fame destroys his life.  (Also—Woman Trouble again—his wife, who prodded him to enter the Soundsleep competition, leaves him, apparently because he was never ambitious enough, like Rooke’s wife in No Vinism [etc.].) At the point where Soundsleep decides to replace him with a younger near-double, Hankin detonates.

Like the Jakes story, this one is an acid satire on contemporary image-mongering American capitalism.  Its problem, aside from being too long (also like Jakes), is that it isn’t crazy enough.  Brunner’s calm and methodical style and storytelling muffle the plot’s antic qualities.  Maybe he should get Jakes to introduce him to the Three Stooges.

Two stars.

Religion in Science Fiction: God, Space, and Faith, by Sam Moskowitz

Sam Moskowitz forges on with Religion in Science Fiction: God, Space, and Faith, rendered on the cover as Science-Fiction Views of God With a Profile of C.S. Lewis.  It’s a rambling description of various SF stories on religious themes, starting reasonably interestingly with several older books that most readers will not have heard of, continuing with the promised account of C.S. Lewis, followed by Stapledon, Heinlein, Wyndham, Simak, Leiber, Keller, Bradbury, Blish, Miller, del Rey, Boucher, and Farmer.

In this recitation Moskowitz manages to miss Arthur C. Clarke’s Hugo-winning The Star and his equally well-known The Nine Billion Names of God; Isaac Asimov’s The Last Question; Leigh Brackett’s tale of a different sort of theocracy, The Long Tomorrow; Harry Harrison’s anti-theological polemic The Streets of Ashkelon; Katherine MacLean’s acerbic Unhuman Sacrifice; and, astonishingly, Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land.  Remarkably, he says, “Heinlein, who introduced [religion] into the science fiction magazines, has long since tired of it as a focal plot device.”

But this (mis-)observation does not deter him from his conclusion: “Neverthess, the decision is made.  The science fiction writer has come to the conclusion that scientific advance will not mean the end of belief.  He feels certain that a truly convincing portrayal of a hypothetical future cannot be made without considering the mystical aspects of man.”

Can we say fallacy of composition?  Two stars: another “almost,” some interesting material, some of it unfamiliar, the whole brought down by Moskowitz’s fatuous generalizations.

Summing Up

So, mostly not too bad (except for the egregious Ensign Ruyter), but mostly not as good as it should and could have been either.  There have been issues that would make one regret that this regime is ending, but this isn’t one of them.




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Magazine

[March 8, 1965] An Alien Perspective (April 1965 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Understanding the Other

Civilization is about building a society out of disparate units.  It has to go beyond the family and clan.  The key to organizing a civilization is empathy, recognizing that we are all different yet we share common values and rights.  Once we understand each other, even if we don't agree on everything, then we can truly create "from many, one."

Science fiction allows the exploration of cutting edge sociological subjects, one of them being the understanding of the "other".  That's because the genre has a ready-made stand-in for the concept: the alien.  Indeed, many science fiction stories are allegorical; they address colonialism, the Cold War, societal taboos, in ways that might currently be too touchy or on-the-nose for conventional fiction.  We can hope that, with the bottle uncorked, less allegorical stories will be required in the future. 

Of all the science fiction magazines that come out every month, I think Fred Pohl's trio of Galaxy, IF, and Worlds of Tomorrow has the strongest tradition of incorporating aliens (Analog also has aliens, but thanks to its editor's sensibilities, they are almost invariably both more evil and inferior to human beings; Campbell likes a certain kind of allegory…)

Meeting the Minds


by George Schelling (it says it illustates War Against the Yukks, but it doesn't)

This month's Galaxy is a case in point, with six of its nine tales involving aliens of one kind or another.  There's some good stuff in here, as well as a number of slog stories.  Let's look, shall we?

Committee of the Whole, by Frank Herbert


by Nodel

Watch your step — there's a rough patch right at the start. 

Whole is a meandering preach piece about an inventor who appears before a Congressional committee with news of a new, revolutionary invention.  I'll just tell you about it because the first two thirds of the story are less suspenseful than obtusely annoying: it's a ray gun.  Its applications are infinite, but the one most of the Congressmen are worried about is that every owner has a weapon more powerful than the atom bomb at their disposal.  And, because of the way the invention has been disseminated, everyone in the world has access to them.

The result, the inventor opines, is going to be a world of true libertarian equality.  "An armed society is a polite society" is how the expression goes.  It's the kind of naive sentiment that would go over well at Analog, but for adults, it's just ridiculous.  In equalizing humanity through armed neutrality, the inventor has made aliens of us all.  I'll wager that Earth's population of humans will be dead inside a week…and probably most of the animals. 

One star, and yet more disdain for the Herbert byline.

Wrong-Way Street, by Larry Niven

Ah, but then our fortunes truly turn around.  Wrong Way Street gives us the unplanned adventure of Mike Capoferri, a scientist stationed on the Moon late this century to investigate an alien base and space ship.  They have lain on the lunar plain for countless millions of years, and their provenance and function are completely unknown.  That is, until Mike unwittingly not only discerns the motive force for the space ship, but also activates it.  Here, understanding the alien way of thinking proved hazardous to Mike's health.  Can he get home?  Will the human race survive his journey?

This is author Niven's third story, and he continues with the same deftness he displayed with his recent short novel, World of Ptavvs.  I guarantee that the ending of Street will stay with you.

Four stars.

Death and Birth of the Angakok, by Hayden Howard


by Jack Gaughan

Peterluk is a young Eskimo out hunting when a horrifying bunch of one-eyed Seal People arrive.  He panics and entreats his powerful Grandfather, holed up in Peterluk's igloo, to aid him with his mystical powers.  But Grandfather is too weak to assist and, in the end, Peterluk is left to defeat one of the aliens with a conventional rifle.

When the Seal People ship surfaces from beneath the ice, much to Peterluk's surprise, it disgorges not aliens but white people in uniform.  And Peterluk begins to doubt the power, and even the human nature, of his strangely humped, ever demanding Grandfather.

Confusing at first, Angakok is actually a pretty neat tale of two types of aliens (human and truly extraterrestrial) as seen from the point of view of one completely naive to other cultures.  While the bones of the plot are fairly conventional, I appreciated the novel viewpoint.

Three stars.

Symbolically Speaking, by Willy Ley

Any meeting of the minds between human and alien will require a common symbology to convey ideas.  A science fiction writer looking for inspiration for such a symbol set could do worse than to read Willy Ley's latest science article for Galaxy, in which he discusses the evolution of symbols for the planets, alchemical substances, numbers, etc.

Fairly dry, but there's interesting information here.  Three stars.

A Wobble in Wockii Futures, by Gordon R. Dickson


by Gray Morrow, channeling Bill Gaines

Tom and Lucy Reasoner are a recurring pair in a series of stories, this being the fourth.  Sort of a "Nick and Nora" meets Retief, the stories of the Reasoners began charmingly enough, with Tom an interstellar diplomat with a mystery to solve, and Lucy his sometimes discerning assistant.

Last time around, Tom had not only gotten inducted into the interstellar assassin's guild, but he'd also catapulted Earth onto the galactic scene, dramatically increasing his home planet's clout.  Now the humans have gotten themselves hip-deep in a planetary investment that made turn out to be completely worthless.  Tom must find out who hoodwinked the Terrans and why before humanity is bankrupted.

This installation has the same problem as the last one — Lucy is sidelined and played for stupid, and the humor of the tale just isn't funny.  Dickson can, and usually does, do better.

Two stars.

Wasted on the Young, by John Brunner

The concept of the "teenager" is a fairly recent one.  It used to be that kids enjoyed a relatively short childhood before transitioning to the labor force and/or marriage.  Now there is an intermediate phase before adulthood during which a youngster can learn the ropes of grown-up society.

Brunner's latest story posits an even longer period of immaturity, one in which kids are given free credit until age thirty to do whatever they want.  The catch: once they reach their fourth decade, they have to pay back what they've spent by being productive members of society.  Thus, the wastrels find themselves indebted indefinitely, while those who lived a spartan life get to be free agents.

Hal Page, age 32, believes he knows a way to cheat the system…but in the end, society has use for people who have spent it all, even their life.

There's a great idea here, but I feel it was somewhat wasted on the gimmick (and not particularly logical) ending.  Still, three stars.

The Decision Makers, by Joseph Green


by Jack Gaughan

Allan Odegaard is a Practical Philosopher, a kind of emissary for humanity to other worlds.  His job is to judge whether a planet is inhabited by intelligent life or not; if so, Terran policy is to keep hands off.  As one would expect, such a determination is often strongly opposed by financial interests.

Capella G Eight is an ocean planet, though during times of Ice Age, three continents emerge from the sea as the water level drops.  Its dominant life form is a seal-like creature.  Though it possesses a relatively tiny brain pan, somehow it lives in a communal society and can use tools.  Is it intelligent?  Does the fact that these creatures live near a rich uranium deposit factor into Odegaard's decision?

We've seen this kind of story before — H. Beam Piper's Fuzzy series is probably the purest example, though J.F. Bone's The Lani People should also be noted.  It's a worthy subject, and Green does a pretty good job, though the ending is abrupt and not quite as momentous as I would have liked.

All in all, it's the best story I've seen from Green in an American publication (he tends to stick to the English side of the Atlantic.) Three stars.

Slow Tuesday Night, by R. A. Lafferty

We're back to Earth for this one.  We all know that the pace of life has only quickened over the generations.  Lafferty, whose middle name would be "whimsy" if the initial were a W. and not an A., writes of a future society in which society is speeded up a hundred-fold compared to now.  Fortunes are made and lost in minutes.  Marriages last an hour on a good night.  And a lifetime can be lived in a week.

It's cute, but the satire wears thin about halfway through.  Also, there are only two female characters, and their sole goal appears to be competing for the earliest wedding of the evening.

A low three, I guess.

Sculptor, by C. C. MacApp

Eight years ago, a disgraced spaceman abandoned his crewmates on an alien world, rushing home with a set of invaluable statues — and a hole in his memory about the affair.  Now he has been shanghaied by a criminal bent on returning to this world and plundering it for more of the exquisite figurines.

What race made these wrought-diamond minatures?  And why does the amnesiac spaceman feel such dread on the planet's surface?

This is another "they looked like us" yarn that has been around since Campbell kick-started the genre with Who Goes There (and Heinlein made it popular with The Puppet Masters).  It's so prevalent, in fact, that there's another example of it in this very issue! (Angakok) Despite not really treading on new ground, it may well be the best work I've seen from C. C. MacApp, a fairly recent author who never fails to never quite succeed.

Three stars.

War Against the Yukks, by Keith Laumer


by Gray Morrow

Six years ago, the Journey had the (dubious) pleasure of reviewing Missile to the Moon.  It was one of a long line of movies involving a man-less society, run by a bunch of sex-starved female beauties just waiting for a hunk to tip the order on its ear.

Laumer's latest is the same old story: this time, the men are an anthropologist and his stereotypically British assistant, who are whisked to Callisto where they encounter the last remnants of an ante-diluvian war between the sexes.  High Jinks ensue(s?)

Only the author's puissance at writing elevates this story above the level of dreck.  Even then, it's a disappointment.  I understand that satirizing a hoary cliche can be fun, but the whole point of Galaxy is that the magazine doesn't even acknowledge the existence of said cliches, much less indulge in them.

It really deserves two stars.  I'll probably give it three anyway.

Summit's End

This month's Galaxy was as alien-heavy as usual, and there was a broad variety of stories.  On the other hand, with the exception of the Niven, there were no stand-outs.  Indeed, the issue read more like an overlong issue of IF (which has also dipped in quality) than Galaxy of old.

Nevertheless, Ad Astra per Aspera.  What goes down must come up again, and when humanity finally does meet the alien denizens of the stars, should they exist, our starship crews will doubtless have been inculcated with the lessons learned in SF, particularly in magazines like Galaxy.




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Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[March 6, 1965] Breaking Up Is Hard To Do (Crack in the World and Other Planet-Destroying Movies)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Start With an Earthquake and Build to a Climax

The above phrase, or some variation on it, has been attributed to Samuel Goldwyn, although this is almost certainly apocryphal. In any case, it represents the interest Hollywood has long had in depicting disasters on the silver screen. Sometimes these have been recreations of historic events, from San Francisco (1936, the 1906 earthquake) to In Old Chicago (1938, the 1871 fire) to A Night to Remember (1958, the sinking of the Titanic.) Watch for these on the Late, Late Show.

Here in the Atomic Age, it seems that fear of the Bomb has replaced some of the fear of Nature. Going back at least as far as Five (1951), films dealing with nuclear disasters have filled the theaters and drives-ins for quite a while now. There are far too many of these to discuss in any detail, from low-budget quickies full of folks in rubber suits pretending to be monsters, to sober and serious dramas. The best of these have been the topics of full articles by Galactic Journeyers, so I direct you to the archives for more information.

Humanity gets wiped out, or at least reduced to very few, in most of these apocalyptic flicks.  But what about those in which the entire planet Earth is threatened with destruction?  I can only think of a few.


Read the book!

Based on the 1933 novel by Philip Wylie and Edwin Balmer, George Pal's 1951 production of When Worlds Collide dealt with a wandering star on its way to crash into Earth, and the effort to build spaceships to carry a few survivors to the star's only planet. (They sure were lucky that it turned out to be habitable.)


See the movie!

It was a handsome production, winning an Oscar for special effects and nominated for cinematography.


Nifty spaceship. Looks like an Astounding cover, doesn't it?


See the movie; there isn't any book.

1961's The Day the Earth Caught Fire was a British production. Filmed in black-and-white on a modest budget, it depicted the effect that simultaneous nuclear bomb tests by the United States and the Soviet Union had on Earth's orbit, tilting it on its axis and sending it spiraling into the Sun.


Some scenes were tinted to suggest the devastating heat.

An unusually realistic portrait of the possible end of the world, with an ambiguous ending, I found it made for compelling viewing.

Will the latest entry in this small group of Earth-In-Peril films prove as exciting as its trailer suggests? Let's find out.

Dig We Must


All this destruction going on, and Dana Andrews is making a phone call.

The plot of the new movie Crack in the World seems to have been inspired by Project Mohole, so a brief review of that troubled effort to reach deep into the Earth is in order.

First proposed in 1957, Phase 1 of this mighty engineering project got started in 1961. Five holes were drilled at the bottom of the sea off the coast of Baja California, the deepest about six hundred feet below the ocean floor. (You have to consider the fact that these holes start about twelve thousand feet below the surface of the water.)


You can see from this diagram why it makes sense to drill from the bottom of the ocean rather than from the land.

The rumor mill has it that there's a lot of controversy over the multiple scientific, political, and economic factors involved in moving on to Phase 2. Eventually, Phase 3 of the project is supposed to achieve the ultimate goal of reaching the Mohorovičić discontinuity, which is the boundary between the Earth's crust and the mantle. (It's named for the Croatian seismologist Andrija Mohorovičić. No wonder most folks call it the Moho layer.) It's too early to tell how low things will go.

The Core of the Problem


The opening title, in cracked letters.

Project Inner Space, our cinematic version of Project Mohole, begins on land rather than at sea. A brief scene of warriors carrying spears and shields establishes the fact that we're in Africa. We'll find out later that the location is Tanganyika. (That former nation only joined with Zanzibar to form Tanzania last year, so I'll cut the filmmakers some slack on the misnomer.)


It's hard to see here, but that scaffolding contains a rocket pointed down into the Earth.

A jeep carrying people of many different ethnicities and accents arrives at the site. They're here to talk to the head of the project, who needs their approval for his ambitious plan.


Dana Andrews as Doctor Stephen Sorenson.

You see, Project Inner Space is a lot more ambitious than Project Moho. Its goal is to reach all the way down to the Earth's core, so that the magma can be used as a virtually limitless supply of energy and raw materials. Since the Moho discontinuity is twenty-odd miles below the surface of the land (something less than five miles if you go under the sea) and the core is about eighteen hundred miles down, you can see that Moho is really small potatoes compared to Inner Space.

Doctor Stephen Sorenson (American actor Dana Andrews, leading man of the 1940's and 1950's, perhaps best known to most moviegoers for The Best Years of Our Lives, but familiar to horror film buffs for Curse of the Demon) wants the committee in charge of the political side of the project to give the OK to shoot an atomic bomb down into the Earth. (He's already got a rocket set up to deliver the thing, so it's obvious he expects to win them over to his side.)


On the right is Kieron Moore as Doctor Ted Rampion.

Stephen has a very strong sense that his notion of using an A-bomb is safe, but he's honest enough to admit that a fellow scientist, Doctor Ted Rampion (Irish actor Kieron Moore, best known to SF fans for appearing in The Day of the Triffids, and familiar to me for having the lead role in Doctor Blood's Coffin) opposes him. Ted thinks the massive explosion might create a crack in the world, leading to massive destruction. Well, given the title of the movie, you can guess who's right.


Janette Scott as Doctor Maggie Sorenson.

Complicating matters is the fact that Doctor Maggie Sorenson (British actress Janette Scott, also in The Day of the Triffids, and known to me from the psychological shocker Paranoiac), Stephen's wife and fellow scientist, was formerly in a relationship with Ted. Adding to this soap opera subplot is the fact that Stephen has a terminal illness that he is hiding from everyone, even his wife.

Stephen gets the go-ahead from his bosses, and the atomic bomb is rocketed deep into the Earth. The resulting explosion destroys the scaffolding and releases a fountain of magma. Everything seems just fine, but since we've still got about an hour of running time left, you know it's not going to be that easy.

Reports of massive earthquakes and tidal waves indicate that, yes, we've got a crack in the world. It's racing across the globe, too, threatening to rip the planet apart. Desperate to save Earth from total destruction, Ted and the other scientists attempt to stop the progress of the crack by dropping another nuclear bomb into the heart of an active volcano on an island.


Inside the volcano

Because the bomb has to be guided into the volcano by hand, requiring two people in spacesuits to descend with it, this is a particularly tense scene. (It's not a big surprise that Ted, our hero, is one of the two.) The device is dropped into the molten lava successfully, and triggered from a safe distance.


A nice little detail is the fact that the scientists carefully record all this.

Unfortunately, this doesn't halt the crack, but only reverses its direction. It looks like it will head back in the general direction of Project Inner Space, threatening to link up with itself and send a chunk of the planet off into space.

Scenes of massive destruction follow, portrayed through stock footage and some really good miniature effects. A railroad disaster, done with models, is particularly convincing.


The crack is approaching the doomed train from behind the bridge.

Will Earth survive? Will any of our three lead actors survive?


This scene may give you a hint.

Worth Digging Up?

The science in this movie may be questionable — there's an amusing moment when Doctor Maggie Sorenson, who should know better, pronounces the word seismograph as SEIZE-mograph — but overall I found it entertaining. The visual effects are quite good, and the story (written by Jon Manchip White and Julian Halevy, directed by Andrew Marton) is never stupid, even if it's implausible and clichéd at times.

I like the fact that Project Inner Space is truly an international effort, and that the scientists generally act like scientists. The sets look like places people could really work.

I also appreciated the fact that Doctor Stephen Sorenson isn't a megalomaniac, but simply a man who makes a terrible mistake, and does everything he can to correct it.

Four stars. I dug it.




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Book, Magazine, Serial

[March 4, 1965] OLD WINE IN NEW BOTTLES (April 1965 IF)

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by David Levinson

“Whenever you are asked if you can do a job, tell 'em, 'Certainly I can!' Then get busy and find out how to do it.” – Theodore Roosevelt

When Gideon contacted me about taking on the reviews for IF, I took President Roosevelt’s words to heart and said, “Yes.” It’s tougher than it looks. I’m stretching some mental muscles I haven’t used in some time.

New Beginnings

March is a good time for new beginnings. Spring isn’t quite here yet, but its promise is apparent. Depending on where you live, the crocuses may have started to bloom, or at least the snowdrops. And until Julius Caesar reformed the Roman calendar almost exactly 2,000 years ago, it was the first month of the year (which is why our ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth months are named Seven, Eight, Nine, and Ten). It even stuck around as the first month for some into the Eighteenth century under the Old Style.

So what’s new? Well, we have another new country: The Gambia. This tiny nation on the west coast of Africa was granted independence by Great Britain on February 18th. It closely follows the lower course of the Gambia River to its mouth on the Atlantic and is surrounded on three sides by Senegal. I wouldn’t rush out to buy a new map or globe any time soon. There are still plenty of colonies in Africa and elsewhere around the world seeking their independence.


The Duke of Kent at the official opening of Gambia High School during the independence celebrations

There’s also a new measles vaccine. Unlike the current vaccine, which requires a series of shots, this requires only a single injection. Fewer injections are bound to be a relief to children and their parents.

A little closer to the interests of the Journey, MGM has announced that Stanley Kubrick (Spartacus, Dr. Strangelove) is working on a science fiction film, tentatively to be called Journey Beyond the Stars. There isn’t much information at this time. It will be shot in Cinerama, and Arthur C. Clarke is apparently involved in some fashion. Maybe we can dare hope for more than ray guns and schlocky monsters.


Stanley Kubrick in the Dr. Strangelove trailer

What about IF?


Art by McKenna

Are we getting anything really new this month? Has Fred Pohl started to turn the decline in quality around? The answers are “A little” and “Not really”. As for the first question, five of the six authors in this issue are new enough that the Journey actually covered their first story. (Well, in the case of this month’s first time author you’ll have to wait a few paragraphs for that to be true.) For the second, read on.

The Altar at Asconel (Part 1 of 2), by John Brunner

Brother Spartak, a monk in a scholarly order on Annanworld, is just about to begin writing a history of his homeworld of Asconel, when he is interrupted by the arrival of his brother Vix. It turns out that these two are brothers to Hodath, the Warden of Asconel, who fell victim to a coup staged by the leaders of a cult (one of whom is a telepathic mutant) from the world of Brinze which worships Belizuek. Neither Brinze nor Belizuek is known to the monastery’s encyclopedic computer. The two leave, first to find their remaining brother, Tiorin, and then to make contact with the resistance in the Asconel system. But before leaving, Spartak is reminded by his abbot that he took a vow of non-violence and that committing a single violent act will forever bar him from returning.

Aboard his ship, Vix is attacked by an assassin. Spartak is able to stop the attack by rapidly reversing the ship’s artificial gravity. (Is slamming someone repeatedly into various surfaces not an act of violence, just because you only twisted a dial?) We also meet Vix’s mistress, Vineta, and learn that Vix is hot-headed and occasionally verbally abusive to her.


Art by Gray Morrow

They travel to Delcadore, hoping to get a lead on their brother. There, the ship is impounded by the Imperial bureaucracy and the brothers are dragooned into taking a telepathic mutant to the world of Nylock. They are psychologically conditioned to fulfill their assignment, but are able to delay take-off long enough to make contact with Tiorin and for him to come aboard. The delay is brought about by Spartak pointing a weapon at an administrator and threatening to shoot a bunch of people. (Is that an act of violence if he didn’t actually mean to go through with it?)

The mutant, a teenage girl named Eunora, is brought aboard in an artificially induced catatonic state. Spartak insists on bringing her out of it, and a few days later, she breaks the conditioning of the others. However, she has no interest in going to Asconel and is planning to condition them herself to take them where she wants to go. Once she figures out where that is.

That’s really not a lot of action for 47 pages. The rest is taken up by exposition. Some good, some of the “As you know, Bob” variety. We learn that there is a galaxy-wide human empire, but it is in decline, gradually contracting its borders. A few places that have left the empire, such as Asconel and Annanworld, have retained imperial values and systems, but others have lapsed into piracy and barbarism. The empire is nearly 9,000 years old and the ships are even older, created by an ancient vanished race and found by humans when they first ventured out to the stars.

John Brunner is the grand old man of this issue, having been writing since the early 50s. He has apparently written a couple of things in this setting before. The Brunner I’ve read before has been closer in tone to the newer British style. This is pure space opera. As is typical of space opera, the women characters don’t do too well. Vineta submits weakly to Vix’s abuse, though she may be developing an interest in Spartak, and there are at least some hints at a bit of depth. We don’t see much of Eunora, but she’s not off to a good start. The only other woman is the bureaucrat, described repeatedly as fat and foolish.

Despite the excessive exposition and reliance on coincidence, a tentative three stars for readability and some decent writing in spots.

What T and I Did, by Fred Saberhagen

An amnesiac wakes imprisoned in a Berserker. One eye is bandaged, and he assumes he is horribly disfigured, because the others trapped with him seem to be repelled by him.

It’s difficult to say much more about this without giving the whole thing away. If you read “The Stone Place” last month, the answer to at least some of the mystery will be obvious, but that’s far from the whole story.

This is Saberhagen’s fifth story about the dreaded Berserker killing machines. Clearly he does have more he can say with the Berserker stories, but I would like to see him stretch his legs a little more with something else. A solid, high three stars.

Across the Sea of Stars, by Jeff Renner

This is a poem which uses the title of at least one science fiction work in every line. The meter here (when the author sticks to it) is the sort of sing-song I associate with bad children’s poetry. The only good thing is that the poem is barely longer than the list of authors offered an apology. Renner had another bad poem in F&SF in March of last year. He shouldn’t quit his day job. One star for me, maybe two if you enjoy the game of figuring out how many of the referenced works you’ve read.

Gree’s Hellcats, by C.C. MacApp

Colonel Steve Duke is back. During a boring (for the reader) space battle, he learns that the Gree has a new species working for it. From pictures he took, the bird people figure out that these are “upgraded” animals. Col. Duke is once again sent behind enemy lines to investigate.


Art by Nodel

Once again, he spends some time in the bush. Once again, he waltzes into the enemy base by pretending to be wounded. After crawling around in the ductwork, he eventually locates some electronic devices being implanted in the creatures’ horns. He steals one and has the brilliant (read: blindingly stupid) idea of trying it out on himself. It proves to be some sort of computer-aided thinking device that also punishes thoughts against the Gree. Steve steals a spaceship with the aid of the device. The end.

Why hellcats? A reference to the Grumman F6F? The M18 tank hunter? The 12th Armored Division? Hellcats of the Navy starring Ronald Reagan? Mary Todd Lincoln? Who knows? Or cares? I’m not sure even the author does.

MacApp has written some decent stuff. “A Guest of Ganymede” comes to mind. Even the first of the Gree stories wasn’t bad, but this and the previous installment have been awful. If MacApp must write space opera, might I suggest a sequel to “Under the Gaddyl”? Two stars and no more Gree, please.

Our Martian Neighbors, by John McCallum

An astronaut has crashed in the Martian desert. After days struggling through the heat, he comes upon a glass dome. In it are two children and their mother. He can hear them speaking, but they can’t hear him desperately pleading for water.

McCallum is this month’s new author. He shows some skill, but the story is very unpleasant. Imagine a Mars story written by an evil Ray Bradbury. I’ve no idea why this got the cover. Well written, but only two stars for egregious cruelty and not really having a point.

White Fang Goes Dingo, by Thomas M. Disch

In 1970, the Masters, beings of pure energy, came to Earth. They took over the power grid and made pets of some humans, especially the beautiful and artistic. They use the Leash, some sort of electric stimulation of the pleasure centers of the brain, and the pets are eager and glad for it. It is now a few generations later.

Our protagonist is known at various times in his life as Dennis White, White Fang, and Cuddles. He is the son of Tennyson White, who wrote a very popular book about Masters and pets through the allegory of dogs. A few years after White Fang’s birth, his mother left for another solar system and his father was captured and killed by wild humans, also called Dingoes. White Fang and his brother Pluto live in a poorly run kennel for a few years and are then adopted by a Master after meeting a human girl, Julie, on an abandoned farm. A decade later, White Fang and Julie are let off the leash while visiting Earth, but their Master never returns. Eventually, they are captured by Dingoes and get to see what is left of human civilization.


Art by Gaughan

You might expect this to be a broad comedy from the title. It isn’t. There is humor and satire here, but it’s subtle. The story is up to Disch’s usual standards, but might need more room to really develop. It’s either too long or too short. I can’t quite decide. A very high three stars; it’s missing that certain something to get a fourth.

Wrapping it up

So, are there signs of Pohl righting the ship? Not really. These are hoary old clichés for the most part. Space opera, a hostile but habitable Mars, humanity enslaved by aliens. Only Saberhagen and Disch do something new and different with them. Maybe Brunner will, too, but not this month. Come on, Fred. Don’t make me regret taking this gig.




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[March 2, 1965] Doctor Who And The B-Movie Rejects (Doctor Who: The Web Planet)

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By Jessica Holmes

Hello, everyone. Today we're going to have a look at The Web Planet, the latest serial on Doctor Who, written by Bill Strutton. Now I don’t want to alarm you all, but we’ve got an infestation, and I think we’re going to need a bigger bottle of ant powder…

THE WEB PLANET

The Web Planet opens on a desolate landscape with some good miniature work by the art department. It’s barren and somewhat lunar, with strange column-like rock formations dotting the landscape. Stretching across the rocks, however, are threads of  a great web. I wouldn’t like to see the spider that made that.

The arrival of the TARDIS breaks the silence for a moment. All is eerily quiet, both outside and inside, as the Doctor worries about what dragged them to the web planet, and why.

We might be about to get a clue.

Behold…the Zarbi.

Are we meant to pretend we can’t see the human legs? Are they meant to match the insect legs? I’d say they look like they came out of a B-Movie but those have higher standards.

But what’s worse than the visuals is the noise these things make. They never. Shut. Up. It's like they're trying to induce a migraine.

I must also apologise for the blurriness of the images in this article. I do my best to get the clearest frame, but somebody seems to have smeared the camera with petroleum jelly, possibly to hide the dodgy effects.

And another thing before I move on. Ants? On the WEB planet? Would a spider costume have been two legs too many, or do we have an arachnophobe in the art department? Not that I'm complaining too much. Spiders have far too many legs for my liking.

The ship lurches about as the din increases, and loses all power. The noise is painful for the whole crew (and me) but it hurts Vicki most, so Barbara takes her to the medbay while Ian and the Doctor decide to go exploring.

And here we have them modelling the TARDIS springwear collection.

In the medbay, the women talk a little about Vicki’s schooling, and she mentions learning medicine as a standard subject, rather a step up from the ‘three Rs’ of Reading, wRiting and 'Rithmetic.

Yes, it is ridiculous. We know.

Anyway, it seems the youth will whine about school until the end of time (gosh, I sound like an old lady), as Vicki laments having to spend a whole hour a week at school.

Poor thing.

Barbara also finally manages to tell Vicki that she and Ian went to Rome, when Vicki takes an interest in the golden bracelet Barbara got from Nero. I’m a little surprised she kept it. Then again, gold is gold.

This scene doesn’t move the plot along, but I still like it as a chance to give the characters breathing room. There’s a tendency in Doctor Who (or indeed any other adventure story) to get so wrapped up in the plot that the characters are little more than narrative chess pieces. A short break now and then does wonders for both the pacing and the character development. Being early in The Web Planet, a quiet scene like this isn’t slamming the brakes on the plot.

Outside, the Doctor makes an attempt to be scientific about examining his surroundings, but when he asks to borrow Ian’s pen, the writing implement has other ideas and flies off. Now, this would probably bother most people, but the Doctor assumes it to be a clever sleight of hand by Ian. When Ian protests that it wasn’t him, does the Doctor take a bit more of an interest? Does he, heck. Ian’s raised voice produces a marvellous echo off the rocks, and all thoughts of scraping up bits of mica are forgotten as the Doctor gleefully amuses himself with the sound of his own voice.


He looks like a child who's just been told he can have whatever he wants at the toy shop.

Back inside the TARDIS, some unknown force starts to pull on Barbara's arm. It lets up after a short while, and she returns to the infirmary, troubled. It’s eerily quiet. It feels like something is about to happen.

Outside, Ian spots a pyramid-like structure. It’s very old. The men approach it, but can’t see what’s at the top.

Ian spots a pool of something he assumes is water, but the Doctor stops him before he touches it, and asks for his tie. Upon dipping it in the liquid, it begins to smoke, and Ian complains that he’s ruined his Coal Hill School tie. Ian, get a little perspective.

As they turn to go, that awful noise starts again.

Barbara can even hear it in the TARDIS, and watches in horror as the console itself begins to spin about (I didn’t even realise it could move) and the doors swing open. Her arm lifts again, and as if in a trance, she walks out onto the surface.

Vicki wakes up to find herself completely alone.

Ian and the Doctor hear the echoes of her cries, but as they run to help Ian gets caught in some sort of web, so the Doctor carries on alone. Meanwhile, Barbara walks ever forwards towards a bubbling pool of acid.

In the TARDIS, the control room starts to lurch around once more, and the familiar wheezing sound of the engine starts up, while Vicki can do nothing to stop it.

By the time the Doctor gets back to where he parked the TARDIS, his ship is long gone.

Whatever’s going on on the web planet, they’re in deep trouble.


'Now, where did I park the car…'

This is a very quiet episode, in more than one sense. Not that much happens, but I don’t think I’d call it boring per se. Honestly, I quite like being able to keep up with my notes for once.

That said, for viewers with a shorter attention span, The Web Planet might be a little too quiet and slow paced.

The mystery of just what the heck is going on is interesting, though. I mean, the answer is going to be ‘a weird space alien thing that we humans don’t know about’ but The Web Planet brings a real sense of scratching the surface of the unknown, the truly alien. This is what science fiction is for, after all.

THE ZARBI

So, TARDIS gone, Ian tied up, Barbara wandering towards a pool of acid. It’s all going a bit pear-shaped around here. This is why you should always remember to leave your handbrake on.

However, just before Barbara reaches the acid pool, one of the Zarbi makes that annoying noise, and she changes direction. It seems that it’s guiding her away from it. That’s interesting.

The Doctor finds Ian free of the webbing but covered in blisters and in a good deal of pain. It seems that the web had some sort of irritant on it. As if Ian wasn’t having a bad enough day, the Doctor informs him of the TARDIS’ disappearance.

Barbara carries on in her trancelike walk, and then an unexpected stranger pops up.


Boo.

I’m sorry, but that’s the funniest costume I’ve ever seen. That is absolutely ridiculous and I love it. It’s so bad it’s brilliant. It’s some sort of insectoid entity, more human-like in appearance than the Zarbi.

Meanwhile, Ian is having an existential crisis and the Doctor might be having a heart attack. So everything’s going well there. The thin atmosphere is starting to have an effect. It’s not deadly, but it’s very uncomfortable.

The Doctor spots some ridges in the sand, and realises that the TARDIS has been dragged away. He looks up and spots some unintentional comedy in the distance as the box scoots across the landscape. I don’t know why it’s funny, it just is.

Elsewhere, the bug man is guiding Barbara along, to join more bug men. I’ll give the costuming department credit, their wings are rather good. They treat her gently, and the one who was leading her removes her bracelet and throws it into an acid pool, snapping her out of the trance.

Ian and the Doctor traipse around trying to track the movements of the TARDIS. They lose the trail, but find a new trail of claw marks.

Ian steps in some sort of shell, which I can’t understand how he didn’t see given the size of it. The Doctor examines it and figures based on the wildlife and the landscape they might be on a planet called Vortis. However, Vortis doesn’t have a moon, and in the sky there are several.

Barbara explains to the insect people what’s been going on and how she came to be wandering the wilderness. They listen quite politely, and I had just written down in my notes ‘they seem friendly enough’ when one of them yelled ‘Kill her!’, so I guess I’m not the best judge of character. Another stops him, though, before he can bash Barbara.


They're also wonderful dancers.

These insect-like people, the Menoptra, greatly fear the Zarbi, and fear that Barbara will betray their location to them, willingly or not. While they talk, Barbara snags a stick with her feet, and manages to trip one of the Menoptra and flee.

Elsewhere, Ian and the Doctor spot lights in the sky, and below them, the home base of the Zarbi. As if on cue, a bunch of Zarbi show up.

Inside the TARDIS, the doors open of their own accord, and Vicki makes the questionable choice to leave, hoping to find the others.

Instead, she finds the Zarbi.

The Zarbi escort Ian and the Doctor to the settlement, which seems to have been grown rather than built. They reunite with Vicki, and the Doctor demands to know what the Zarbi want.

It doesn’t take long for Barbara to run into some Zarbi herself. What is the plural of Zarbi? Zarbis? Zarbii? Zarbodes?

Back in the Menoptras’ hideout, they’re debating whether to break radio silence and attempt contact with the Menoptra Invasion Force. Invasion? Interesting. We’ll put a pin in that.

However, they can’t get a response, and realise the cave is blocking their signal. Before they can go outside and try to get better reception, the Zarbi come along with a hypnotised Barbara, who has led them straight to the B-movie rejects. They smash their communication device and put up a brave fight, but the Zarbi are much bigger than the Menoptra. In the fight, the Zarbi kill one and capture another, but the third manages to flee.

The captured Zarbi removes a sort of metal collar from Barbara’s shoulders, waking her up. It seems the Zarbi need a metal conduit to control people. Specifically, gold. Ah, so that’s why the bracelet affected her!

Barbara asks what’s going to happen now, and the Menoptra informs her the Zarbi will take them to the ‘Crater of Needles’, which sounds delightful.

Back at the Zarbi base, the Doctor tries to communicate through mime, but doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere.

Some sort of alarm goes off, and the Zarbi force the Doctor into a… well, I think he describes it best himself when he calls it a hairdryer. It seems to be some sort of communication device, as once inside, an unknown voice asks the Doctor a question: “Why do you come, now?”

ESCAPE TO DANGER

The Doctor explains to the unseen voice that they come in peace, but the voice asks why they attack. It thinks that the Doctor is with the Menoptra, but won’t let him fully explain that he’s not with them, and moves to demonstrate what the Zarbi will do to the Menoptra, and uses some sort of energy weapon to fire on the TARDIS.

However, rather than destroying the machine, the energy pulse appears to restore power to the TARDIS.


It takes work to maintain that hairdo.

The voice asks the Doctor how his ship’s shielding works, and the Doctor in exchange wants to know how their weapon works. The voice makes him an offer: if they can use his ship’s defences against the invaders, they’ll grant him freedom.

The Doctor asks where Barbara is, and the voice tells him she’s at the Crater of Needles. He can get her back, but first the voice wants to know where the Menoptra forces are massing. The Doctor agrees to find out, and the Zarbi allow him to take Ian into the TARDIS to retrieve some equipment, but they keep Vicki as a hostage.

In the TARDIS, the Doctor practices medicine for once and gives Ian some ointment. He states the bleeding obvious that the Zarbi are ants, and Ian asks how they can be so big.

Answer: THEY CAN’T. It's just physics. They literally cannot get the oxygen required to sustain such a huge size. Ants this big would suffocate. Oh, and that's assuming an Earth atmosphere. I doubt the atmosphere on Vortis could sustain any arthropods much bigger than a centipede.

With Ian on the mend, the Doctor tells him to try and track Barbara down while he works.

They lug a device out of the TARDIS, and the Doctor tells the voice that something is interfering with his instruments, probably to do with the nearby Zarbi. The voice is reluctant to stand down the local Zarbi, but agrees when faced with the prospect of not getting help at all.

The nearby Zarbi become docile and stop making noise, their minds apparently going dormant, and Ian is able to slip away.

He promptly runs into a Zarbi. He tries to sneak past, but it stops him and he has to wrestle it in a deeply ridiculous manner. Ian wins, but then goes and gets himself trapped. That went well. The Zarbi forces come for him, but they’re such lumbering clumsy human-ant abominations that it’s not exactly difficult for him to give them the slip.

The voice accuses the Doctor of trying to escape, and demands to know why. He refuses to answer the question, and is completely fearless. If the Zarbi kill them all, his knowledge dies with him. Could he be lying? Sure. But the Zarbi can’t know either way.

The Doctor then asks Vicki to run into the TARDIS and grab a little red box. She brings it, and he insists he said a white box, as this is one of his specimen boxes. However, the Zarbi on guard seems to be very frightened of it. But what is it? It's a dead spider. I wouldn't be at all happy to find it in my bathtub, but it's a tiny thing compared to the Zarbi.


Well, I think it's a spider. Not sure where most of the legs are. Maybe it had an accident.

Outside, Ian meets up with the lone Menoptra, who is called Vrestin. She tells him the Zarbi have enslaved many of her friends at the Crater of Needles, where they tear off the Menoptra’s wings so they can’t fly away. Ian asks what else they expect when they invade a planet, but Vrestin insists that Vortis is their planet, and they’re reclaiming it.

She tells him that the Zarbi are an unintelligent species who used to live with the Menoptra, in peace, until they were made militant by a dark power, the Animus, which is the voice the Doctor’s been talking to. Nice to put a name to it. The structure inhabited by the Zarbi colony and the Animus grew at that time, and Vrestin calls it the Carcinome. At least I think she does. The Menoptra have a very strange (and annoying) speech pattern placing the emPHAs-is on thE wrong sy-LAb-LE, so I might have misheard.

The Menoptra had no weapons, and by the time they sensed the danger, the Zarbi were too strong to overcome, so they had to flee the planet. At that time, the strange moons appeared in the sky. One became their home, but it’s not a good place to live, so they must try to reclaim Vortis.

The Menoptra sent Vrestin to the surface along with two others to prepare the way for the invasion force. The Zarbi killed one, and the other is at the Crater with Barbara.

She teams up with Ian to go to the rescue, but of course Ian can’t fly, so it’ll take two hours to reach the Crater. The Zarbi soon catch up, so the pair run to hide, and their situation goes from bad to worse as the ground beneath their feet gives way. Well, I guess they’ll be very well hidden under a few tonnes of rock and dust.

Final Thoughts

Being quite a straightforward story so far, I’m not sure what else there is to add about The Web Planet. It’s a pleasantly strange trip out into the unknown. I like the decision to include non-humanoid aliens, even if the execution leaves something to be desired.

I've also enjoyed the sweet little bits of interaction between the Doctor and Vicki. It seems our Doctor has turned into a right softie, offering Vicki sweets to cheer her up when things get tough. Perhaps he's trying to make up for not doting on Susan as much as he perhaps should have.

I'll be back again later this month with a write-up on the second half of The Web Planet (and a big can of bug spray), so goodbye for now, and don't let the big bugs bite.



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Magazine, Serial

[February 28, 1965] Tragedy and Triumph (March 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Casualty of War

Malcolm X was shot on my birthday.

While I was celebrating with friends on February 21, 1965, enjoying cake and camaraderie at a small Los Angeles fan convention, Malcolm X, one of the highest profile fighters for civil rights in America, was gunned down.  At a meeting of the Organization of Afro-American Unity (OAAU), a group X founded, three shooters attacked the 39-year-old father of four (soon to be five), wounding him sixteen times.  He did not survive the trip to the hospital.

Two of the assailants were captured, but their motive is still unclear.  All fingers point to the Black Muslims, however.  After his disillusionment with and fraught departure from the group, X had cause to worry that they intended to rub out a man they thought of as a traitor.  Indeed, X had received a number of death threats prior to the OAAU meeting. 

Elijah Muhammad, leader of the Black Muslims, had to arrive at a rally at New York's Coliseum on February 26 flanked by police protection.  Addressing the large audience, he made clear that he'd come to savage X, not to praise or bury him. 

Malcolm X was a controversial figure.  Whereas Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s non-violent methods have earned him almost universal admiration from America (those who fight the old order, anyway), X was a militant Afro-American.  It was only recently that his attitude toward Whites began to soften, the result of a pilgrimage to Mecca, which he shared with many light-skinned Muslims.  Nevertheless, there is no question that the war for civil rights has claimed one of its most important generals. 

As Black Americans prepare for a freedom march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, the cynic in me wonders who will be next.

Cheering News

In recent months, that kind of a downer headline would segue easily, if dishearteningly, into a piece on how the latest Analog was a disappointment.  Thankfully, the magazine is on an upswing, and the March 1965 Analog, last of the "bedsheet" sized isues, is one of the best in a long while.


by John Schoenherr

The Twenty Lost Years of Solid-State Physics, by Theodore L. Thomas

Theodore L. Thomas takes a break from his rather lousy F&SF science vignettes to talk about the patenting of the first transistor.  Apparently, a fellow named Lilienfeld worked out the theory long before Shockley et. al., filing a patent as early as 1930!  Yet, Lilienfeld never tried to build the thing, and the invention had no effect on the world save for complicating the filing of later patents by others.  Sad, to be sure, although Lilienfeld had a prolific career otherwise, and I'm given to understand that materials technology was not sufficiently advanced to make the device back then anyway.

Still, it makes you wonder what other inventions lie buried at the patent office, lacking a vital something to bring them into common use.

Four stars.

The Case of the Paradoxical Invention, by Richard P. McKenna

Speaking of inventions that haven't found their era, McKenna offers up a motor powered by the stream of radioactive particles from a decaying source.  The problem is, it appears to be both physically possible and impossible simultaneously.

The math is over my head, and probably over the head of most of Analog's readers, too.

Two stars.

The Iceman Goeth, by J. T. McIntosh


by Leo Summers

Andrew Coe is an iceman.  Years ago, he had his emotions wiped clean, both punishment and societal protection, for Coe had murdered an ex-lover for unfaithfulness.  Now he makes a living with a clairvoyant and telepathy act — except it's no act.  He's the real deal. 

It appears nothing will change the colorless unending cycle of work and sleep, but outside Coe's harshly circumscribed life, the city he resides in is slowly going mad.  Psychotic breaks followed by motive-less murders and suicides have been steadily on the rise.  The police are at wits end as to their cause until a scientists pinpoints their origin to an unexploded dementia bomb, dropped in a war 50 years before. 

To find the thing, Coe will have to have to use his full mental powers, only accessible if he gets back his emotions.

There is a five star story here, one where the drama resides in the decision to restore Coe to his former self.  Coe is a killer; is it worth it unleash one madman on the world to stop a hundred?

The problem is, that's not how McIntosh plays it.  Instead, Coe simply finds the bomb, receives a pardon, gets a new girl, and everyone lives happily ever after.  No mention is made of his past crimes.  We never learn about the woman he killed.  If anything, McIntosh almost seems to excuse Coe's act as forgivable given the circumstances.

Deeply dissatisfying, but God, what potential.  Three stars.

(Have we seen this concept of the iceman before?  It seems awfully familiar.)

Balanced Ecology, by James H. Schmitz


by Dean West

The McIntosh is followed by a tale as delightful as the prior story was disappointing.  On the planet Wrake, the ecosystem is uniquely interdependent.  Among the groves of diamondwood trees reside the skulking slurps, whose primary prey are the ambulatory tumbleweeds, whose seeds are tilled by the subterranean and invisible "clean-up squad".  Other denizens are the monkey-like humbugs, with an annoying tendency to mockingbird human expressions, and the giant tortoise-like mossbacks, who sleep for years at a time in the center of the forests.

Ilf and Auris Cholm are pre-teen owners of one of these woods, heir to a modest fortune thanks to their well-moderated timbering operation.  When greedy off-worlders want to effect a hostile takeover for a clearcutting scheme, do a pair of kids stand a chance?  Not without a little help, as it turns out…

I really really liked this story, almost an ecological fable.  The only bumpy spot, I felt, was the part where the villain revealed his evil scheme in a bit too much of a stereotypical, if metaphorical, cackle.

Four stars.

The Wrong House, by Max Gunther


by Adolph Brotman

Out in the suburbs, they're building giant subdivisions with rows of handsome houses on gently curving lanes.  Many find them charming, but others find them unsettling — like the young woman who confesses (in The Wrong House) to her engineer husband that her home seems somehow "unfriendly."  To his credit, the man takes his spouse seriously and determines to understand why the air duct pipe is warm instead of cool, and just what all those strange electronics installed in their attic might be…

Another good story, maybe a little too pat, but well executed.  Four stars.

The Prophet of Dune (Part 3 of 5), by Frank Herbert


by John Schoenherr

Now we come to the centerpiece of the issue, the sweeping serial scheduled across the first five months of 1965.  In this latest installment, Paul Atreides and his mother, the Bene Gesserit Lady Jessica, fulfill prophecy and become spiritual leaders of the Fremen, the indigenes of the desert planet Arrakis.  Meanwhile, Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, usurper of the Atreides fiefdom on Arrakis, schemes to parlay his control of the geriatric spice melange into rulership of the entire galactic Empire.

There were times when the immense scope and obvious attention to detail threatened to elevate Dune into four star, even classic territory.  And then Frank Herbert's fat fingers got in their own way and gave us such classic passages as this:

Paul heard hushed voices come down the line: "It's true then–Liet is dead."
Liet, Paul thought.  Then: Chani, daughter of Liet.  The pieces fell together in his mind.  Liet was the Fremen name of the Planetologist, Kynes.

Paul looked at Farok, asked: "Is it the Liet known as Kynes?"

"There is only one Liet," Farok said.

Paul turned, stared at the robed back of a Fremen in front of him.  Then Liet-Kynes is dead, he thought.

I guess Kynes is dead.  He's also called Liet.  I thought.

How about this one:

"This" — [Baron Harkonnen] gestured at the evidence of the struggle in the bed-chamber–"was foolishness.  I do not reward foolishness."

Get to the point, you old fool! Feyd-Ruatha thought.

"You think of me as an old fool," the Baron said.  "I must dissuade you of that."

Fool me thrice, shame on Herbert.  The third-person omniscient/everywhere/everyone vantage is clumsy; a better writer could go without such exposition and switching of viewpoints, instead saving it, perhaps, for the times when Paul goes into one of his prescient fugues.

But I do want to keep reading, if for nothing else than to know what happens.

Three stars.

Desiderata, by Max Ehrmann

For some reason, Analog's editor, John W. Campbell Jr., decided to include a set of homilies from the inside of Old Saint Paul's Church in Baltimore, dated 1692.  At first, my atheistic side bridled, but I ultimately found the platitudes refreshing and timeless.

No stars for this entry, for it's not really a tale nor an article.

The Legend of Ernie Deacon, by William F. Temple


by Dean West

Last up, we follow the exploits of Arthur, captain of a two-place merchant ship plying the lanes between Earth and Alpha Centauri.  It's a twelve year trip, reduced to a subjective 18 months thanks to time dilation.  It's still a long time, but Art finds it lucrative and satisfying, trading full-sense movies called "Teo's" for the life-saving medicine, varos.  Legend is a philosophical piece, discussing the morality of preferring a vicarious life to a "real" one (and of facilitating the addiction thereto), and also evaluating the reality of fictional creations whose existence comes to shadow that of their creators (e.g. Holmes over Doyle).

Good, thoughtful stuff, with an ending that can be viewed as mystical or simply sentimental.

Four stars.

Summing Up

The counter to tragedy is hope, and the latest Analog gives me a lot of hope — that the magazine that ushered in the Golden Age of science fiction will rise to former glory (some may argue that the magazine never fell; it has maintained the highest SF circulation rates for decades.) In fact, Analog is the month's highest-rated mag, at 3.3 stars, for the first time in years.

Fantastic followed closely at 3.2; all the rest of the mags were under water:

Amazing and New Worlds both merited 2.9 stars (but the former made John Boston smile, so that's something).  Science-Fantasy scored a sad 2.6.  Fantasy and Science Fiction was a lousy 2.3.  IF, at 2 stars, was so bad that I'm not sorry to stop reviewing it; that harsh task now falls on the shoulders of one David Levinson, whom we shall meet next month.

And February does end with one more bit of tragedy: out of 45 fictional pieces published in magazines this month, only one was written by a woman.

Here's hoping March offers better news on that front, and others.




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[February 26, 1965] Dare to be Mediocre (February Galactoscope #2)

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This second Galactoscope for February involves entries from both sides of the Atlantic.  It also introduces our newest writer, a most interesting Briton who we are most grateful to have; there's so much going on in the UK these days!

Dare by Philip Jose Farmer


By Jason Sacks

I’ve become a big fan of Philip Jose Famer over the years. Which is why I’m frustrated I didn’t enjoy his newest book, Dare, as much as I wanted to.

Like most of you, I became familiar with Farmer when I first read his famous short story “The Lovers.” I was captivated by Famer’s smart prose, his intriguing depiction of love between a human and alien, and most of all by his focus on human emotions while exploring thoroughly unique alien worlds.

Farmer has continued to build that reputation over the last decade, culminating in (at least to me) his imaginative world building with his outstanding 1964 novella “The Day of the Great Shout”,  which was set in his fantastical and intriguing Riverworld. With that story, it began to feel like Farmer was on the verge of taking his next leap forward as a writer, fulfilling the promise he showed during his first fecund period, during the 1950s, when he was nominated as Most Promising New Talent.

Unfortunately, Dare doesn’t quite demonstrate the virtuosity one expects from our current group of budding science fiction masters.

Oh, Dare has elements of uniqueness and sparks of something special. The world Farmer creates is broad and diverse, with clues dropped of the same sorts of cosmic chessmasters who might have created the Riverworld.

The planet Dare is a fantastical place, part utopia and part dystopia, inhabited by a heady and fascinating mix of humans and fantasy-like creatures.

In one of the most interesting twists (which doesn’t pay off in the book) the humans on this planet are the members of the original Jamestown settlement on Earth, who landed in Virginia at the dawn of the era of colonization and then disappeared before the next boatload of Brits landed in America. Farmer answers the lingering mystery of their disappearance in the most science-fiction way possible: these settlers have been kidnapped to that aforementioned alien world, in which they find themselves attempting to survive and continue the way of life for which they left England in the first place.

As happens with every generation, where parents set rules, the children will defy the rules. Love will find its way, even if the love is between two different species.

The other inhabitants of the planet are a curious mix of creatures which seem to emerge from Terran mythology. There are mandrakes and talking dragons and annoying unicorns – a clever running gag of the book paints unicorns as stupid, emotional animals and far from childrens’ fantasies – and a group of satyr type creatures. Naturally the satyrs cavort about in the nude and naturally the human boy falls in love with a female of the species named R’li.

A triple novel?

Dare really reads like three books – or maybe three short stories – under one cover.

The first third of the book dwells mainly on the romance between Jack and R’li. This section is sweet and a bit sexy and reminds me of a variant on “The Lovers”. Much of the middle third of the book shows the humans’ fury at the boy’s indiscretion, and is full of action and intrigue. However, the charm of the first third is tossed away for more of a violent, action-adventure story, and the transition between those two sections happens awkwardly, making the book feel like it’s arguing with itself. In the last third, Farmer takes the plot into more of a science fiction battle territory as a ship arrives and changes everything on the planet.

None of these storylines cohere well with the others. There’s a feeling that Farmer wrote three short stories set in this world and then just grafted them together, never mind that the tone shifts wildly and the book doesn't effectively build to a satisfying conclusion. A reader finishes this book a bit stunned, unsure what to make of the mysterious mélange Farmer has delivered.

More than that, there’s just so much here that feels underdeveloped. I wanted to learn more about the dislocation the Virginians felt, to understand more about the alien society, and to understand what force brought all these creatures to the planet. Unusually for Farmer, this book felt more about the surface and less about the depth, making for a jarring and ultimately frustrating read.

I still hope for good things from Farmer, but Dare represents a step backwards on the road to mastery.

Rating: 2 stars

New Writings in SF 3


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

If you've been a science fiction fan in Britain anytime in the last decade you likely know John Carnell. He was an editor on Britain’s first fanzine, New Worlds, before the war and revived it as a professional fiction venue in the '40s. He then further expanded to Science Fantasy and Science Fiction Adventures, becoming rather like Britain’s version of Frederik Pohl.

However, with the latter shutting down last year and declining sales on the other two titles, Carnell decided to take another leaf from Pohl’s book to move away from publishing magazines and become a literary agent, and to try his hand at publishing original anthologies.

His stated aims in the first publication were as follows:

  • Only publish either original stories or those not likely seen by the vast majority of readers
  • Introduce new short fiction to the general public rather than just science fiction afficionados
  • Introduce new styles, ideas and writers to the genre

I can definitely say he has been successful in the first one and probably in the second, but I am not so sure on the final point.

Firstly, most of the writers had already been writing for New Worlds; the only truly new ones so far have been John Rankine & G. L. Lack. And I would not say this work is that experimental — rather it has been solid in established fields. Ironically these aims seem like they might be being better achieved by Moorcock and Bonfiglioli in their new management of Carnell's old magazines.

What we have had in the previous two issues of New Writings are solid stories of the type we would expect from these writers, even those like Brian Aldiss (whose work I always love). I would never place these works among their top range, but even the lower tier authors brought over from Carnell’s last years on New Worlds are still producing readable work for the first two volumes as well as #3, which I shall now discuss:

The Subways of Tazoo, by Colin Kapp

In our first story we follow an archeological dig as they attempt to uncover an extinct civilization on a hostile world. The story is largely told through rather unnatural conversation, but the way it unfolds and gives us more information about the Tazoon is rather interesting. A low three stars.

The Fiend, by Frederik Pohl

Speaking of Pohl, his influence appears again with this reprint from Playboy (described wonderfully by Carnell as “an American magazine devoted to the broadest of broad policies of masculine appeal”). Here Pohl attempts a dark tale of an interstellar voyage captain’s obsession with a frozen passenger, but comes across as creepy in the wrong way. Two stars for me but one that may appeal to other new wavers.

Manipulation, by John Kingston

The first of two stories by regular Science Fantasy contributor Keith Roberts (under, what I believe is, a new pseudonym) where he gives us a stylish and evocative tale of a man dealing with having psychic powers. This fresh take, whilst not as highly experimental as is being published by Moorcock, represents the closest to the fulfillment of Carnell’s stated aims. Four stars.

Testament, by John Baxter

The return of another New Worlds regular with this vignette on survival in a dying world. These kinds of apocalypses are very much in vogue right now but Baxter manages a deft and memorable work. Four stars.

Night Watch, by James Inglis

A second very short piece in a row. This one treads over some well-worn ground but does it well. A solid three stars.

Boulter's Canaries, by Keith Roberts

In his second story for the anthology Roberts asks, is there a scientific explanation for ghosts? The resulting answer is less satisfactory than other recent attempts. Two stars.

Emreth, by Dan Morgan

This is a story from an old hand returning to SF writing after a four-year hiatus. It has incredibly strong and memorable moments but doesn't tie well enough together for me to get beyond three stars.

Space Master, by James H. Schmitz

Schmitz, as a longstanding and prolific American author, seems like an odd fit to finish out this collection. If you like the kind of work he does you may enjoy this story, I personally do not. Two stars.

In Conclusion

So overall this is pretty much down the middle. None of the stories within seem destined to be all-time classics but none are truly awful; even those I disliked I can see they may well appeal to others. Solid and competent work.

By all accounts these collections have been pretty well received by the science fiction buying public over here, and along with increasing sales on New Worlds and Science Fantasy, it seems like British Science Fiction is in safe hands.

Like Watching a Movie


by Gideon Marcus

Another month, another Ace Double.  This one is designated M-111, and like most of the rest of the books in the series, it offers two mildly interesting adventure stories.  In this case, I felt the writing exceptionally vivid; both books would make good film adaptations, I think.

Fugitive of the Stars, by Edmond Hamilton


by Jack Gaughan

Horne, 1st Navigator on the Vega Queen, makes landfall on the Fringe planet of Skereth.  Skereth is on the verge of accepting an invitation to join the galactic Federation of planets, and they are sending the envoy, Morivenn, to effect the union.  In a back alley on Skereth's capital, Horne and his 2nd Navigator are beset by hoodlums, and the latter crewman is rendered unable to work.  Luckily, an eager-beaver Skerethian named Ardric is a qualified 2nd Navigator.

He's also an anti-Federation agent, and he manages to destroy the Vega Queen, killing most of its passengers and crew before getting away.  Horne is courtmartialed for negligence, but he flees justice before he can be sentenced.  Now on the hunt for Ardric, his goal is to clear his name — and discover what secret makes Skereth is so hell-bent on staying out of the Federation.

If this plot sounds familiar, it may be because you read the novella on which it's based (basically the latter two thirds of the book) came out as Fugitive of the Stars in one of the last issues of Imagination more than seven years ago. 


by Malcolm Smith

Thus, there's no way the title is meant to evoke the current TV show staring David Janssen (The Fugitive, natch).  In any event, Edmond Hamilton (Mr. Leigh Brackett) does a fine job with this riproaring space opera, and the expansion into a full-length novel only improves the story.  The best exchange in the book is this one, while Horne and Morivenn's daughter, Yso, are dogfighting Ardris' goons in hover cones:

Yso: "What's the matter?  Haven't you ever seen a woman fight before?"

Horne: "When I was in the Navy, some of my best men were women.  Are you Navy?"

Yso: "Skereth Planetary."

Three and a half stars.

Land Beyond the Map, by Kenneth Bulmer


by Jerome Podwil

Rollie Crane, a listless dilettante millionaire, had a traumatic experience as a child.  On a road trip through Ireland, his father, using a strange half-map, drove his family's car into a strange alternate dimension.  Therein, the ground heaved with chaos, clanking treaded things chased them, and strange towers bisected the horizon.  All of this lay half-forgotten until the stormy night that Polly Gould arrived at Crane's mansion with stories about a similar map, which had swallowed her former boyfriend and his new love many years prior.

The two decide to return to Ireland and search every antique bookshop until they find the map.  But what will they find when they reach the uncharted zone?  And who is this sinister McArdle character who shows up to warn them off their task?  Worst yet, what are these floating baleful eyes that burn with golden fire and vaporize at a glance?

I have to say that prolific British author Kenneth Bulmer had never really impressed me to date.  Land, on the other hand, is a fun romp.  In many ways, it feels like an Edgar Rice Burroughs story, with little reliance on technology, captivating scenery, and two strong characters who clearly fancy each other but can't confess their feelings until the very end.

Where the tale falls down is the conclusion, in which Crane has no real role.  He watches lots of exciting things happen, but he affects them not at all.  It's a shame and something of a cheat; surely Bulmer could have given Crane and/or Gould something to do at the climax.

So, three and a half stars for a pleasant time whose imagery will stay with you even if the plot doesn't.

(by the way, I've now learned that this story is also a reprint of sorts, an expansion of Map Country from the February 1961 Science-Fantasy.  It seems largely the same — just fuller.)


by Brian Lewis

That's it for February!  March promises to be a light month for books — good thing since we've been flooded with magazines!  Stay tuned…




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[February 24, 1965] Doctors, Hunchbacks and Dunes … New Worlds and Science Fantasy, February/March 1965

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

As I briefly mentioned last time, much of this month has been about the country dealing with the death and subsequent state funeral of Sir Winston Churchill. It has felt like the passing of an era – the old guard, admittedly, but an end, nevertheless. It seems to have cast a cloud over everything.

I turned to the two magazines to try and cheer me up.

The First Issue At Hand

So: which magazine arrived first? The winner was (again)… Science Fantasy.


[Impressive cover this month. Remember the bad old days covers of the Carnell New Worlds era?]

Looking beyond the arty cover by Agosta Morol, I see that the magazine, like New Worlds, now has an Associate Editor. In this case its J. Parkhill-Rathbone (no first name given.) This is, no doubt, to cope with the extra volume created by the magazine going monthly.

Not that that is shown particularly by the Editorial, which even admits that there’s little to say this month and then fills the space by mentioning up-coming works of interest. There’s also an intriguing glimpse into the life of an editor, which involves Kyril, Jim Ballard, Brian Aldiss and some Liebfraumilch.

To the stories themselves.

The Outcast, by Harry Harrison

We start with a big name, the usually wonderful Harry Harrison. He has been here before but in his many guises as short story author, editor and collaborator. It is great to read a longer story. This is one of those “spaceships as cruise liner” type of tales, with a notorious passenger causing unrest amongst the passengers. I guess that it must be akin to being on a holiday with someone like Josef Mengele!

It’s told with the usual Harrison skill, with the occasional plot-point to keep the reader guessing. The protagonist is given a surprisingly nuanced character and is not the monster some would suggest, and by the end the story becomes one of redemption. Solidly thought-provoking, if unremarkable. It’s a good start to the issue. 3 out of 5.

Song of the Syren, by Robert Wells

A story about singing alien plants and the development of bad worker relationships, but also about the trouble women cause in space when surrounded by men. As bad as it sounds, this attempts to tell a mystery plot with misogynistic clichés that I thought went out with the pulps of the 1940’s. For example, “She was a sixth year student, one of the brightest in the unit’s botanical section, but it was an open secret that she would resign when her seven years tour of duty was complete and opt for a mating and reproductive role back in Solar.” Not one of the magazine’s brightest moments. 2 out of 5.

Moriarty, by Philip Wordley

A crime story about the protagonist’s relationship with a female telepathic cop in L.A. The twist here is that the policewoman wants the burglar to hold off from robbing a bank so that she can get a bigger catch, a big-time mobster planning to rob the same bank in a few days’ time. Another predictable story that doesn’t upset things too much. 2 out of 5.

Bring Back A Life, by John Rackham

Peter Raynor is a biochemist who finds himself abducted by a group of VIPs for a secret mission – the Prime Minister has been struck down with Ringer’s Parethis – a brain disease which has only been cured before by accident – before a major political conference in three weeks’ time. Raynor is asked to try and come up with a cure for the PM. The solution appears to be one in the past, so Raynor travels to get it. An adventure story, admittedly fast-paced, that seems rather contrived when you stop to think about it. 2 out of 5.

[Image by the writer]

The Jennifer, by Keith Roberts

What? Another month, another Keith Roberts story? This is the latest from a magazine favourite, an Anita story that was delayed from last month’s issue. If you like the continuing stories of this young teenage witch, described as “shameless” in the banner, I can’t see why you wouldn’t like this one – even with the still-present annoying Granny. This time Anita and Granny Thompson are on holiday at the seaside when Anita meets a mermaid, much to Granny’s disgust. Anita catches a Serpent ride into the sea… and then the story abruptly stops, as if the writer had run out of time and space. I would have liked more, which is the sign of a good story, although I’m going to dock a point for its abrupt end, which makes it feel like more of a story extract than a story. However, like most of these Anita stories, The Jennifer is light and fun, even if Granny still irks me. 3 out of 5.

A Cave in the Hills, by R. W. Mackelworth

Here’s an author you may recognise from the Carnell New Worlds days. He was last seen in the February 1964 issue of New Worlds with The Unexpected Martyr. This is the story of a bored housewife who in a utopian future finds that her boring husband has ended up in debt and in Debtors prison. Her own future is uncertain, dependent on a visit from the Adjudicator. But bigger issues are at play. This is another story of the value of identity and being different from the majority, themes that Mackelworth has examined before, but manages pretty well. 3 out of 5.

Hunt a Wild Dream, by D. R. Heywood

Another new writer. Do you remember recently when editor Kyril Bonfiglioni said that he was a fan of “time-travel safari” stories? Well, this one starts with a safari, at least.

Our hero of the piece is Manfred ‘Mac’ Cullen, known for “bringing them back alive” (which wins points from me, though I’m not entirely sure whether that statement means animals or tourists!) We follow Cullen as he starts a journey into the African grasslands, which suggests that he’s a more complex character than my stereotype might suggest. However, this one just starts to get interesting and then stops. There’s some ruminations on the spiritual beliefs of the local Nandi tribe, that Cullen knows and understands, but as soon as we hear of some murders that may have happened on lands where the locals refuse to go, the story stops, to be continued next month.

Based on what I’ve read here, this could develop into an interesting and scary story or fizzle to nothing. The jury is out, but based on what I’ve read here I’ll give Hunt A Wild Dream a cautious 3 out of 5 so far.

Summing up Science Fantasy

Although this issue of Science Fantasy is more up-beat than the last, I am a little underwhelmed by it. There’s nothing badly wrong – OK, there’s one story that’s really not good – but it’s a solid issue. And that may be the problem. Most of it is entertaining, but there’s nothing here to really grab my attention like the Burnett Swann serial did in previous months. I’m pretty sure that this is another issue that was worth me buying, yet I’ll have forgotten about by the end of the year. The best stories for me are the Harrison, and even that is not the best of his I’ve read, and the Anita story, which has its issues.

So let’s go to my second issue.

The Second Issue At Hand

As the cover heralds, this month’s New Worlds has a couple of well-known authors: J G Ballard and Arthur C Clarke.

This month’s Editorial, I’m pleased to say, is back to the discussion format that we seemed to have lost last month. It’s another call to arms, a rumination that science fiction is moving away from the traditional space exploration story to ones set on Earth and are more involved with inner space – the mind and its “capacities and defects”. It’s an interesting point, and I guess one which makes the British SF increasingly different to the majority of stories I see in the American magazines. It ends with the point that new young writers must look forward and not back as the values of the Sixties are not those of the 1950’s.


[Art by aTom]

All the King’s Men, by B J Bailey

A stand-alone novelette from Barrington J (BJ) Bailey this month. And I liked it very much, up to the end.

In 2034 the Earth has been invaded and peacefully vanquished by aliens, who whilst keeping control over the locals fight against each other over the Earth territories. The story is told by Smith, the human second in command who with Holath Horan Sorn has kept Britain generally peaceful for the alien King of All Britain, although, unsurprisingly, Sorn and our narrator are seen as traitors by many of the native populace.

The story begins with the fact that Sorn has died and there is an impending power struggle to take his place. Smith is bullied by Hotch to take the human’s side and use the disruption to cause chaos for the King, who has relied heavily on the advice of his human advisors to maintain order. It has in the past made decisions that are mistakes that the humans have had to nullify.

At the same time the King is concerned with a war between himself as King of Britain and other aliens who have taken over Brazil. Much of the story is how Smith tries to fulfil the role of Sorn as intermediary between the alien King, who is aware that his thinking is very different to that of Humans, and at the same time Smith struggles to represent the British people, who are constantly fretting under the control of an alien leader.

So why did I really like this one? The setup is intriguing. It’s an engaging mixture of historical ideas (kingdoms, courts, feuding Kings) in a future setting (spaceships, alien art, electric trains), with a character-based tone that I really engaged with. I was going to give this one 4 stars, until I got to the ending, where the author abruptly gives everything up and the lead character basically says “I don’t know what happened.” 3 out of 5.

Sunjammer, by Arthur C Clarke

I really like Arthur’s clarity of prose and this one doesn’t disappoint, although my enthusiasm is tempered by the fact that it is a reprint of a story first published in the USA as a juvenile story in Boy’s Life in March 1964. Sunjammer is the story of a race around the Solar System using spacecraft that use solar winds for propulsion. I really liked it as a good old-fashioned ‘sense of wonder’ story that Clarke is so good at – but it also shows us what was mentioned in the Editorial, that British SF has changed a lot recently and this one is definitely old school. Like I said last month about another old-style story, Sunjammer’s exciting and I enjoyed it a lot, but it is nothing that would be out of place from the magazines of the 1950’s, and it has been printed before. 3 out of 5.

First Dawn, by Donald Malcolm

Here’s the return of an author from the Carnell Era. Donald Malcolm was last seen in the April 1964 issue of New Worlds, the last issue edited by Carnell. I thought that beyond the reach of storms was OK, if nothing special. I liked this one more, though it is a minor piece describing dawn on an ice planet as seen from the perspective of a mole-like alien. It’s nicely done but like Malcolm's last effort nothing to remember for too long. 2 out of 5.

Dune Limbo, by J G Ballard

To say that this story is much-anticipated is an understatement. If you didn’t know already, JG is making an impact not just here in Britain but also overseas with his strange fiction. He is an author that always makes me think and pushes literary boundaries at the same time. I never know what a story of his is going to say, or indeed how it is going to say it!

Dune Limbo is a little bit of a cheat however, as it is an extract from a bigger work. The Drought (also known as The Burning World to you in the US) is due out as a novel later in the year (hurrah!) and Dune Limbo is from the middle part. This is a little disappointing – how do you feel about starting a novel in the middle? – but there is a lengthy summary of what has gone before at the start.

It is obvious early on that Dune Limbo does have some of the usual Ballard-ian themes though. It is basically about a world in decline, where a global drought has changed the world we know. To this Ballard brings his usual types of characters – strange and often unpleasant. This middle part shows us a story of this new harsh environment, with humans hanging on to existence in a world different to our own.

This sounds like the Ballard of The Drowned World and Equinox. But…. dare I say it, Dune Limbo is slightly more straight-forward, perhaps even less challenging than some of Ballard’s other recent work I’ve read. It feels like there’s elements here I’ve read before. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it means that for me it doesn’t quite have the impact that, say, The Terminal Beach had. Don’t get me wrong – there’s some lovely images created by the prose, for example – but it may not create as much of a stir as some of his earlier work. I liked it, though.

Perhaps it may introduce the author to some new readers previously unfamiliar with Ballard’s work, but I felt a little short-changed as it felt more like an advertisement for his upcoming novel than an actual story. Nevertheless, Ballard’s prose is still seductive, and so for all my grumbles it is still 4 out of 5.

Escape from Evening, by Michael Moorcock

And here’s another story by the Editor. This time it is a novelette from the ongoing series that riffs heavily on the later stages of H G Wells’ The Time Machine. (Well, if you’re going to borrow, why not borrow from the best?)

Escape from Evening is set in a distant future, where a Moonite decides to go and live on the Earth. Despite the Earth people feeling that he would find their decaying society boring, Pepin Hunchback revels in the fact that Earth is real and not artificial like the Moon and decides to explore his new home. His travels lead him to Lanjis Liho, where we pick up points and meet characters we have heard of before back in the story The Time Dweller in the February 1964 issue of New Worlds. Lanjis Liho is the home of the fabled Chrononauts who (as we found out in the last Chrononaut story) can travel through time at will. Pepin attempts to travel back in time to a place where he would feel more in tune with their world, but there are revelations it would be wrong for me to reveal here.

There are parts of this story I liked, and it is quite different to Moorcock’s last outing – though the use of a character named ‘Pepin Hunchback’ and a ‘Hooknosed Wanderer’ may be borrowing from the classics a little too much for comfort. 3 out of 5.

The Uncivil War, by R J Tilley

Another war story in this issue, of a sort. RJ Tilley’s tale is an attempt to lighten the mood a little as we read of a young reporter’s first visit to the notorious Firkl’s Bar. Whilst there he is regaled with a shaggy-dog story about an old space-dog’s secret mission where miscommunication and bad assumptions almost start a war. Tired and overlong. 2 out of 5.

Articles

Mixed throughout the issue this month. There’s a review by Alan Dodd of the film Voyage to the End of the Universe (isn’t current thinking that there is no end?) and a summary of the latest amateur magazines.

In terms of Books this month, there is only one book reviewed, but as has been the trend of late, the review is in detail. Assistant Editor Langdon Jones has a quote for a title guaranteed to grab your attention – "That Is Not Oil, Madam. That Is Jellied Consomme", a quote from the Introduction of The Weird Ones, a collection introduced by H L Gold, who you may also know as the Editor of Galaxy magazine.

The book surprises with its unusual introduction (and is where the titular quote comes from) but is quite frugal otherwise. Frederik Pohl’s Small Lords starts well but soon becomes no more than ‘readable’, Poul Anderson’s Sentiment Inc. the same, whilst Milton Lesser’s Name Your Tiger is the most readable and perhaps predictably Eando Binder’s dated Iron Man the worst. There’s some wincingly awful quotes to make that point too.

The Letters Pages are a pleasing mixture of praise and complaint. Moans about Ron Goulart’s review of Aldiss’ Greybeard, praise for the move to monthly and monstrous book reviews – and still more argument about Langdon Jones’ story I Remember, Anita (reviewed back in issue 144).

Ratings this month for issue 146 (January 1965). Very pleased with this one. Well done to David Rome, one of the more accessible New Wave stories of late – and we have a tie!

Summing up New Worlds

Another strong issue this month, perhaps the one I have consistently enjoyed most in a long time. There’s the usual eclectic mixture – it is mentioned as such in the Editorial – but it was one of the rare issues where I loved pretty much everything, even the stuff I would normally say I didn’t. No religious preaching, no apocalyptic Armageddons, for a change.

Summing up overall

Whilst Science Fantasy has its moments, the New Worlds issue is a clear winner.

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

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

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[February 22, 1965] Theory of Relativity (March 1965 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

(More Than) One Big Happy Family

A lot of dramatic events happened this month, many of them violent and tragic, from a huge earthquake in the Aleutian Islands (fortunately, far away from inhabited areas) to, just today, the murder of civil rights activist Malcolm X.

Although not as world-shattering as other news stories, one incident that caught my eye was the bizarre story of Lawrence Joseph Bader/John Francis "Fritz" Johnson. Why two different names? Thereby hangs a tale.

It seems that Mister Bader, a salesman from Akron, Ohio, vanished during a storm while on a fishing trip on Lake Erie, back in 1957. His wife had him declared legally dead in 1960. Meanwhile, Mister Johnson showed up as a local TV personality in Omaha, Nebraska.


Broadcasting from an ABC affiliate

A guy who knew Bader ran into Johnson, and knew something was fishy (pun intended.) He brought Bader's niece to take a look at him. Sure enough, Johnson was really Bader, now married to another woman. Fingerprints proved the case.

Amnesia or a hoax? The authorities aren't sure. Johnson claims that he has no memory his life as Bader, but other folks point out that he had some problems with the IRS and may have wanted to start his life over. Sounds like a soap opera plot to me. Anybody remember the old radio drama John's Other Wife? Stay tuned!

Two Brothers and One Son

The man with two families came to mind again when I took a look at the American music charts recently. Earlier this month, the Righteous Brothers reached Number One with You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'.


They're not really brothers, so I may be stretching a point until it breaks.

Later, Gary Lewis and the Playboys hit the top with This Diamond Ring. Gary is the son of comedian Jerry Lewis.


I wonder if any of Dean Martin's seven children will have hit records.

Family Affairs

Fittingly, some of the stories in the latest issue of Fantastic involve close relatives, and others feature characters without families of their own.


Cover art by Gray Morrow.

Monsters & Monster-Lovers, by Fritz Leiber

Before we get to the fiction, let's take a look at an article from one of our greatest writers of imaginative tales. The title tells you what he's talking about; the current popularity of all things monstrous. It's a wide-ranging piece, listing many of the notable frightening creations of literature, pondering their appeal, noting that they flourish during relatively peaceful times, and dismissing the possibility that the discoveries of science will eliminate them from our minds. Perhaps the author tries to cover too much ground, but his essay is enlightening, elegantly written, and gave me the names of some classics I need to track down.

Four stars.

The Pillars of Chambalor, by John Jakes


The magazine's only interior illustration is also by Morrow.

Our old pal Conan Junior — excuse me, I mean Brak the Barbarian — shows up again in this issue's lead story. This time he's lost in a desert wasteland, near the ruins of an ancient city. In the time-honored tradition of sword-and-sorcery yarns, a huge monster attacks him, leaving him dying from its venom.

A wicked old man and his sweet young daughter show up. It seems the greedy fellow is after a fabulous treasure within the abandoned city, and needs Brak's mighty strength to open the doors behind which it lies. He'll provide an antidote for the poison if the barbarian swears to perform this service. (It amused me that the plot depends on Brak never breaking his word once he makes a promise, but then feeling free to turn against the old guy once he's opened the doors.)

Complicating matters is the fact that the ruins consist of about one hundred gigantic pillars, each one containing the bodies of the inhabitants of the vanished city, frozen in stone by a wizard. It won't surprise you to learn that they don't stay that way, or that we haven't seen the last of the critter that attacked Brak.

Predictable, but written with vivid imagination, this swashbuckling adventure is a decent way to pass the time. I find Brak a lot more tolerable in short stories than in longer pieces, although I wouldn't want to read a bunch of them at once.

Three stars.

Mary, Mary, by John Baldwinson

Here's a science fiction story that reads like fantasy, from an author completely unknown to me. In the future, folks usually work for fifteen years, saving little or none of their pay, then retire to lives of leisure, supported by a rich and benevolent government. The protagonist has a different plan.

She scrimps and saves, finally leaving her job with enough money to create a garden full of exotic plants from far-flung worlds. Many of these are as intelligent as animals, and some can even move around, acting as servants and watchdogs.

Although she's a loner, spending nearly all her time in the garden, the woman yearns for human company as well. She falls in love with a retired spaceman, and everything seems just fine. Too bad she doesn't realize her floral friends can feel jealousy.

Although the resulting tragedy comes as no surprise, there are some striking images and poetic writing to be found here. Despite the futuristic trappings, this is really a dark fairy tale, full of beings both beautiful and frightening. It reminds me of some of the romantic fables of Robert F. Young, which is OK in my book.

Four stars.

102 H-Bombs, by Thomas M. Disch

There's a lot going on here, so hold on to your hat and I'll try to walk you through it. In a future of constant armed conflict — don't call it war! — all male orphans in the USA begin military training at the age of ten. Our hero is named Charlie C-Company. (He got that last name due to a bureaucratic mix-up when he was inducted into the Army.) At this point, the story's satiric look at the armed forces made me think of Catch-22, a novel by Joseph Heller that came out a few years ago.

Anyway, Charlie is one of the winners of a contest to write an essay entitled "What I Would Do If I Owned the Empire State Building." You see, that famous structure is just about the only thing that survived an attack during this conflict that isn't officially a war. He and one hundred and one other winners — notice the title of the story — are flown to New York New (sic) and, well, things get complicated.

Not only does he make telepathic contact with a girl his own age who is one of the winners, he also finds out the real purpose behind the contest, learns something about himself, and becomes part of a larger, closely related group. The outcome has serious consequences for the whole world.

You get the feeling that Disch knows exactly how clever he is, so this is a story to admire rather than love. It's a real roller coaster of a tale, throwing all kinds of concepts at you left and right, always keeping your attention but making you feel a bit dizzy when it's over. It's worth the ride, anyway.

Three stars.

Look Out Below, by Jack Sharkey

This surreal tale features a main character without family or close companions.  He lives alone, on the top floor of a tall building, in a suite where everything is pure white.   Happy, but a bit lonely, he rides an elevator to the floor just below his own.

The things here are white, but with pale gray pinstripes.  He moves into a suite on this level that isn't quite as luxurious as the one he left.  The coffee, for example — like his food, clothing, and other belongings, it apparently appears from nowhere — is just slightly bitter.

Shortly after returning to the top level, uneasy dreams and yearnings draw him down two floors, where an alluring woman leads him to a crimson-lit place of music, drinking, smoking, and violence.  He soon descends even lower, leading to an enigmatic ending.

This is a very strange story, and not one I expected from the pen of a writer I associate with comedy and adventure.  I expect that I'll be pondering its meaning for a long time.  The author's intent seems to be allegorical, although I can't decipher all the symbols he uses.  The overall effect of reading it is intriguing, but frustrating.

Three stars.

The Headsman, by Irvin Ashkenazy

Like the lead story, this backwoods fantasy features a protagonist who meets an unusual father and daughter. The author isn't exactly new — digging into a pile of old pulp magazines reveals that he had a story published in Weird Tales nearly three decades ago — but he isn't exactly a household name, either.

The main character is an art dealer who goes deep into the wilds of Appalachia in search of priceless antiques. You see, a uranium prospector's journal indicates that the remains of a very old community exist way back in the hills. Did I mention that the prospector's headless body was found with his journal? That little fact, plus the title, should give you a clue that this is a horror story.

Anyway, the dealer locates the only two people who live in a ghost town in the mountains, a self-proclaimed preacher (and moonshiner) and his attractive but simple-minded daughter. After a lot of arguing and negotiation, the hillbilly tells the dealer how to get to the lost community. It was settled by supporters of Cromwell who fled to America at the time of the Restoration. (If nothing else, I learned something about English history from this story.)

The dealer finds the place and has a lot of spooky experiences. At the end, we discover the true nature of the hillbilly's daughter, and you can probably guess what happens to the dealer.

The plot involves many kinds of supernatural events, not all of which make sense. I also have to question the fact that there's apparently active volcanic activity in the Appalachians. The hillbilly and his daughter are old-fashioned stereotypes, and there's an unpleasant touch of racism in the suggestion that there's something weird about them because they're of mixed ancestry.

(As an inhabitant of Tennessee, where this story takes place, I have to mention another implausibility. The hillbilly and his daughter consistently address the dealer as y'all. Anyone who has lived in the American South for a length of time knows that this very useful word is the second person plural, and would never be used to refer to a single individual.)

As a parting note, let me contrast the weaknesses of this tale with the excellent backwoods fantasies of Manly Wade Wellman, found in his collection Who Fears the Devil?, which happens to win a glowing review from Robert Silverberg in this issue's book column.

Two stars.

The Man Who Painted Tomorrow, by Kate Wilhelm

This writer has appeared in genre magazines for nearly a decade — her first story was also in Fantastic — but is probably better known for being married to Damon Knight.   That may change some day, because she brings us an interesting and unusual tale that displays a great deal of imagination.

The main character's mind is pulled into the far future now and then, where he inhabits one of the four-armed bodies of the people of that time.  They bring him there to paint pictures of his present, with the help of a robot.

His main qualification for this task is the fact that he can draw very accurately, but without artistic creativity, which would distort the reality of his renditions.  His paintings become part of a museum, where other works depict humanity's history from the prehistoric past to what would be the protagonist's future, but the distant past of his hosts.

Eventually the man learns something about the world of the future, and a mysterious door that holds a secret his hosts try to keep hidden from him.  The ending brings present and future together, with both tragedy and hope.

The author has a gift for creating believable characters, which adds realism to the speculative aspects of the plot.  The conclusion may not be a total surprise, but it brings the sense of a fitting resolution.

Four stars.

It's All Relative

For the most part, this was an enjoyable issue. One of the stories wasn't very good, but I suppose every family has a black sheep.


The woman on the far right is Marilyn Munster. As you can see, she doesn't quite fit with the rest of her family, poor thing.

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