Category Archives: Science Fiction/Fantasy

Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[October 24, 1965] "What time is it?" (October Galactoscope)

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By Jason Sacks

Well, so far this has been a great month. Last week saw the end of a dynamite World Series, in which Sandy Koufax, the greatest pitcher of his generation, showed himself to be one of the greatest Jews of his generation as well. It was tremendously meaningful to my family that Sandy refused to start Game 1 for the Dodgers against the Minnesota Twins since the day coincided with our holy day of Yom Kippur.

As Sandy said, "I've taken Yom Kippur off every year for the last 10 years. It was just something I've always done out of respect."

As if that wasn't good enough, Koufax dominated games 5 and 7 of the series, with his electric fastball mowing down batters in a pair of crucial shutout victories. The Twins played well, and  were outstanding American League champs – Tony Oliva is a monster – but it seems the Koufax gave the Dodgers the edge, and turned the '65 Series into a classic.

At the movie theatre, my wife and I caught The Bedford Incident last week at our favorite theatre here in north Seattle. If you haven't had a chance to see it yet, the film is well worth a night out — if, that is, you can handle an intense and sometimes bleak drama.


Richard Widmark turns in a powerful performance as a zealous battleship captain on the search for an elusive Soviet nuclear submarine. Also featuring Sidney Poitier and Martin Balsam, this black and white drama treads similar ground to last year's thrilling Fail Safe and ends in a similarly dramatic way.

The Hunter Out of Time, by Gardner F. Fox

If it seems like I'm dragging my feet a bit before talking about my entry for this month's Galactoscope, well, you're right. Gardner Fox's new novel is the epitome of mediocrity, a book that will give you 40¢ worth of excitement but not a whole lot more. The fantastic Mr. Fox is a prolific author who churns out more books and comic book stories than nearly anyone else living. Sometimes that causes him to create some delightful work. Other times it seems like he is just delivering words just to deliver him a paycheck. There's nothing necessarily wrong with that – I'm sure the man has a mortgage to pay – but it also represents a lost opportunity.

See, this book starts out with one of the most striking first lines I can remember.

I saw myself dying on the other side of the street.

The first page builds on that momentum, with the protagonist describing his body as "blood oozed over my fingers where I held that awesome wound."

I mean, seriously, how can you read a first page like that without feeling like you have to read more? Mr. Fox is an old pro and he clearly knows some classic tricks. As I read that book, I leaned back, took a deep breath, and readied myself for a page-turning thrill ride.


Cover by Gray Morrow

But, dear reader, I'm sorry to inform you that all the best writing in The Hunter Out of Time happens on the first couple of pages. It soon turns out that the man who falls to Earth is a time traveler from the far, far future who traveled back through a supposedly impregnable barrier to steal the man's identity. The time traveler is named Chan Dahl and soon other time-displaced men come to our time, confuse our guy, Kevin Cord for Dahl, and that unleashes the most obvious and cliched adventure you can imagine.

There's little in The Hunter Out of Time you haven't seen before. Fox gives us fantastic devices, headspinning time travel with seemingly arbitrary rules, and the obligatory beautiful, weak babe from the future.  Of course Cord uses his native 20th century skills to overcome his opposition, of course Cord and the woman fall in love, and of course Fox leaves room for a sequel if somehow people want to read more of this frightfully ordinary pap.

I could go on and on about this book, but hey, it costs 40¢, it'll take you a couple hours to read, and it's got a pretty nice cover by artist Gray Morrow. I'd rather spend my time watching young Warren Beatty in Mickey One in the theatres, but you won't hate this book and it's pleasing enough entertainment for a rainy Seattle Sunday.

2 stars.

Solid Fuel


by John Boston

The rising star John Brunner has produced ambitious work such as The Whole Man and the upcoming The Squares of the City, both from Ballantine in the US, and a raft (or flotilla) of unpretentious upscale-pulp adventures for Ace Books. Some of the best of the latter were mined from the UK magazines edited by John Carnell.


by Jacks

But there’s a lot more. Brunner has been one of the mainstays of the UK magazines for a decade, but much of his best magazine work has not been reprinted because it’s too short for separate book publication and too long to fit in the usual anthologies or collections. The UK publisher Mayflower-Dell, previously distinguished by its unsuccessful attempt to bring Fanny Hill: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure to the British public, remedies a bit of this omission with Now Then, a collection of three novellas, two from the Carnell magazines and the other, his first professional sale, from Astounding in 1953.

Some Lapse of Time

The book opens with the energetically clever and creepy Some Lapse of Time, from Science Fantasy #57 (February 1963). Dr. Max Harrow is having a bad dream of a group of starving people living in ruins, one of whom is holding a human finger bone in his hand. He wakes and there is someone at his door: the police, because a tramp has collapsed in his garage. The tramp proves to be suffering a rare disease (heterochylia, an inability to metabolize fats, which become lethal) that Harrow is uniquely qualified to recognize, his infant son having died of it only recently, and which should have made it impossible for the tramp to survive to adulthood. The tramp also has clamped in his hand a human finger bone—the same bone, the end of the left middle finger, as in Harrow’s dream.

Unintelligible to the hospital staff, the tramp proves when examined by a philologist to speak a badly distorted version of English, like one might expect a primitive and isolated group to use. Meanwhile, Harrow’s marriage is blowing up under the emotional stress caused by his son’s death and his own preoccupation. When his wife slams the car door in his face, she catches his hand in the door and severs the end of his left middle finger, which falls down a gutter. Meanwhile, the tramp is sent for a head x-ray, but he turns out to be so radioactive that not only do the films turn out unusable but he has to be put in strict isolation.

Brunner brings all these elements to a thoroughly grotesque resolution—it doesn’t entirely work, but is a grimly ingenious nice try. Others apparently think so too; it is rumored that a dramatization will be broadcast later this year in the BBC’s Out of the Unknown TV series. Four stars.

Imprint of Chaos

Next up is Imprint of Chaos, also from Science Fantasy (#42, August 1960), one of a number of outright fantasies Brunner contributed to that underrated magazine. This one introduces us to a character mainly called “the traveler,” who we are repeatedly told has “many names but one nature,” unlike the rest of us who I suppose contain multitudes.

The traveler has been appointed (by whom, or Whom, or What is not explained) as a sort of metaphysical supervisor over part of the universe, charged with ensuring the primacy of order over chaos. He is on his way to Ryovora, a formerly sensible town where they have now decided they need a god.

So the traveler nips out to our Earth and snatches the unsuspecting Bernard Brown from a hike in the wood, tells him he’s unlikely to find his way home, but gives him directions to Ryovora. There, to his discomfiture, Brown is welcomed as a god, and when the next city over hears about it and sends over their god, Brown sends it packing in terror. Then the Ryovorans say they could have done it themselves (though they didn’t), and excuse Mr. Brown, after a final scene where he and the traveler bruit the futility and undesirability of magic.

A fantasy writer bad-mouthing magic may seem incongruous, but this rationalist in spite of himself really hates it, and comes not to praise magic but to bury it, though only after enough colorful magical episodes to entertain the rubes. Here the tension is more extreme than usual. His earlier fantasies mostly featured incursions of magic into the world of ordinary salt-of-the-earth types. Here, the entire setting is exotically magical, and the story is told in the fey and pompous cadences of high fantasy.

For example, from a conclave of the necromantic elite of Ryovora: “The Margrave nodded and made a comforting gesture in the air. He said, ‘But this cannot be the whole story. I move that we—here, now, in full council—ask Him Who Must Know.’” Brunner walks the edge of parody at times (“Tyllwin [a particularly powerful magician] chuckled, a scratching noise, and the flowers on the whole of one tree turned to fruit and rotted where they hung.”). But the story is clever and entertaining and merits its three stars, towards the high end.

Thou Good and Faithful

Thou Good and Faithful is older; as mentioned, it is the first story Brunner sold to an SF magazine—and it was featured on the cover of the top-of-the-market Astounding (March 1953 issue). Moreover, the readers voted it best in the issue, and it was quickly picked up by Andre Norton for her pretty respectable YA anthology Space Pioneers. Not a bad start for an 18-year-old! Though Brunner has had some second thoughts about showing us his juvenilia; the acknowledgements note it appeared in the magazine “in a somewhat different form.” I haven’t compared the two texts, though there’s clearly some updating; in this version Brunner refers to something as “maser-tight,” and masers were barely invented when this story was first published.

The story is for most of its length a bog-standard though well-turned rendition of a basic plot: find a planet, there’s a mystery, what’s going on, are we scared? The mystery is an idyllic Earth-type planet inhabited only by robots, who presumably didn’t make themselves; what happened to the makers? The final revelation is partly in the direction of, say, Clarke’s Childhood’s End, and partly in the one suggested by the story’s title, so in the end it’s much more high-minded than the puzzle story it starts out as. This is all older news nowadays than it was in 1953, but it too merits a high three stars.

Summing Up

Now Then is a solid representation of the mid-length work of this very readable and thoughtful writer, and there’s enough in the Carnell back files for several more worthwhile volumes of Brunner novellas.

Two by Two


by Gideon Marcus

The Journey has made a commitment to review every piece of science fiction released in a year (or die trying). In pursuit of this goal, I've generally tried to finish every book I've started, and if unable to, I simply don't write about it.

It occurs to me, however, that the inability to finish a book is worth reporting on, too. And so, here are reports on two of this summer's lesser lights:

Arm of the Starfish, by Madeleine L'Engle

The latest from Madeline L'Engle, author of the sublime A Wrinkle in Time, starts promisingly. Adam Eddington is a freshman biology minor tapped to work with a Dr. O'Keefe on the Atlantic island of Gaia off the coast of Portugal. O'Keefe (a grown up Calvin, from Wrinkle) is working with starfish, zeroing in on an immortality treatment. Just prior to Adam's departure from Kennedy Airport, he runs across the beautiful young daughter of an industrialist, Kali, who warns Adam to stay away from the sinister-looking Canon Tallis, who is chaperoning the O'Keefes' precocious daughter, Poly.

Adam finds himself embroiled in international intrigue, not knowing who to trust. This is exciting at first, but a drag as things go on. Gone is the quietly lyrical prose of Wrinkle, replaced by a deliberately juvenile style leached of color. Events happen, one after another, but they are both difficult to keep track of and largely uninteresting. By the time Adam made it to Gaia, about halfway through the book, I found myself struggling to complete a page.

Life's too short. I gave up.

Quest Crosstime, by Andre Norton


Cover by Yukio Tashiro

Andre Norton has come out with the long-awaited sequel to her parallel universe adventure, The Crossroads of Time, starring Blake Walker. The universe Walker lives in is a bit like that of Laumer's Imperium series and Piper's Paratime stories: there's one Earth that has mastered the art of crossing timelines, and it has built an empire across these alternate Earths.

On Vroom, the imperial timetrack, there had been a devastating war that killed most of the female population, making them particularly precious. Also, mutation has made psionic ability the rule rather than the exception. The timeline is ruled by an oligarchy of 100 meritocrats.

At the start of Crosstime, Walker is dispatched to assist Marfy, whose twin sister, Marva, has been lost amongst the timeless — and all signs point to a kidnapping. Of course, the allure of all parallel universe books is the exploration of what-if, and so Walker and Marfy's trek spans a dead Earth where life never arose, a strange saurian Earth where sentient turtles and lizardmen rule, and ultimately, an interesting timeline in which Richard III won the battle of Bosworth Field while Cortez lost the battle of Tenochtitlan. By the Mid-20th Century, there is a Cold War between Britain and the Aztec Empire along a militarized Mississippi river. It is to this world that Marfy and her abductors are tracked, and it turns out that the kidnapping is part of a plot to topple Vroom's Ancien Regime.

True to form as of late, Norton sets up some genuinely interesting background, but the characters are as flat as the pages they appear on. This time, I made it through two thirds of the book, partly on momentum from the first book in the series, which I rather enjoyed. In the end, however, disinterest won out.

Call it two stars for both books.

Don't miss the next exciting musical guest episode of The Journey Show, October 24 at 1PM Pacific!




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[October 22, 1965] Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow (November 1965 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Days of Our Lives

I'm stealing the name of a new soap opera, due to premiere on NBC next month, because it sums up the way that past, present, and future came together in the news this month.

Yale University put an item known as the Vinland Map on public display on October 12. This is a map of the world, said to date back to the Fifteenth Century, which seems to indicate that Norsemen visited the Americas long before Christopher Columbus. In case you're wondering about the date, it was Columbus Day, in a nice bit of irony.


A detail of the Vinland Map. That's Greenland to the right, and a chunk of North America to the left.

As you might expect, there's controversy over whether this is the real thing or a forgery. Today, nobody knows for sure if this visitor from yesterday is genuine, but maybe we'll find out tomorrow.

If authentic, the Vinland Map is a voice from the past. In a similar way, folks in the present are trying to send a message to the future.

On October 16, the penultimate day of the New York World's Fair, a time capsule was lowered into the ground. (A similar object was buried nearby, during the 1939 World's Fair.) It is scheduled to be opened in the year 6939. (I'm a little skeptical as to whether such a thing can really survive and be found nearly five thousand years from now, but I like the idea.) The contents include . . . well, see for yourself.


People in that distant era will also know that we weren't very careful about spelling.

The Beatles seem destined to represent the artistic achievements of our time, if somebody actually finds the time capsule, opens it, and figures out how to play a record. They are once again at the top of the American popular music charts this month, and show no signs of leaving that position any time soon.

The latest smash from the Liverpool lads is, appropriately, called Yesterday. Unlike their other hits, it's a slow, melancholy song about lost love. Paul McCartney plays acoustic guitar and sings, backed by a string quartet. The other Beatles do not perform on the record, so it's really a McCartney solo performance.


By the way, Act Naturally is a remake of a Number One song by Buck Owens. The Beatles go Country-Western!

Flipping Through the Calendar

Given the peculiarities of the publishing business, it's no surprise that I'm reading the November issue of Fantastic in October. With their policy of filling about half the magazine with reprints, it's also not a shock to discover that we go back in time to fill up the pages. First up, however, is a new story set in a strange world that mixes up the past and the present.


Cover art by Julian S. Krupa. It's actually taken from the back cover of the July 1939 issue of Amazing Stories.


Look familiar? We'll hear more about the Space Devastator later.

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


Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

Our hero is one Lafayette O'Leary, an ordinary working stiff, living in a crummy boarding house. He has a lot of intellectual curiosity, performing experiments in his tiny room and reading obscure books. He happens to find a Nineteenth Century volume on hypnotism, and learns about a technique whereby he can experience a dreaming state, while remaining aware that he is dreaming, and exercising some control over it.

(This isn't so crazy a premise as it might seem. More than fifty years ago, the Dutch psychiatrist Frederik Willem van Eeden coined the term lucid dream for such states of mind.)

Of course, he gives it a try. He winds up in a world that seems to be a bit medieval, a touch Eighteenth Century, a tad modern, and partly straight out of a fairy tale. The limitations on his ability to alter this dream world — if that's what it is — show up when he tries to give himself a set of fancy modern clothes, and winds up dressed like somebody in a swashbuckling movie.


Lafayette, ready for action.

At first, he enjoys the situation, happily replacing the lousy wine in a tavern with fine Champagne. Thought to be a wizard, he gets mixed up with the local equivalent of the cops. Still thinking this is just a dream, he tries to disappear, with only partial success.


Our hero tries to vanish, but can't quite do it.

Lafayette winds up in the palace of the King, where he is thought to be a prophesized hero, destined to save the realm from an ogre and a dragon. He also meets the King's magician, who seems to know more about what's going on than he admits. For one thing, he's responsible for the steam-powered coaches and electric lights in this otherwise nontechnological world.


The magician looks on as Lafayette admires himself.

Eventually, our hero meets the King's beautiful daughter, as well as the master swordsman who is her current boyfriend. Jealousy rears its head, and a challenge to a duel arises.

Lafayette assumes that his opponent, like everybody else in this world, is just a product of his imagination. Therefore, he reasons, the foe can't really be any better with a sword than he is. It looks like he might be in for an unpleasant surprise.


Tune in again for the next exciting chapter!

So far, at least, the tone of this novel is very light. Laumer almost seems to be parodying his own tales of the Imperium, with the protagonist finding himself in alternate realities. Unlike those serious stories, this one is a comedy. The people inhabiting the dream world speak in a mixture of archaic language and modern slang. The police are about as effective as the Keystone Kops. It's entertaining enough to keep me reading, but hardly profound.

Three stars.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow, by Ray Bradbury

The rest of the magazine consists of stuff from the old days, both the prose and the art. First we have a piece with a title that is fitting for my chosen theme. It comes from the May 1947 issue of Fantastic Adventures.


Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones, for what looks like a very odd story.

The protagonist is a would-be writer, reduced to pawning his typewriter due to his failure to find his way into print. (Surely based on the author's own early years, I assume.) He comes home to find a strange device. It sends him messages from the far future.


Illustration by Virgil Finlay.

Tomorrow's world is a dreary place, under the rule of a brutal dictator. A woman sent the machine back in time, insisting that the writer kill the remote ancestors of the tyrant. If he doesn't, the woman will be executed. If he does, the future will change, and she won't remember him at all. Since he's fallen in love with her, he will lose her either way. Besides this dilemma, he faces the moral crisis of murdering two innocent people.

This early work shows Bradbury developing his style, although it is not yet fully formed. You may think that's a good thing or a bad thing. Either way, it's got some emotional appeal, some passages of poetic writing, some implausibilities, and some lapses in logic. The ethical problem at the heart of the story — would you kill Hitler's ancestors? — is an important one, but here it's mostly used as a plot point.

Three stars.

I'm Looking for "Jeff", by Fritz Leiber

From the Fall 1952 issue of Fantastic comes this horror story, created by a master of the macabre (and other things.)


Cover art by Leo Summers. The Capote story is his very early work Miriam, which is a fine, eerie tale.

A bartender claims that a mysterious woman shows up regularly, although the owner of the joint can't see her. The reader is aware right from the start that she's a ghost.


Illustration by Emsh.

She uses her feminine wiles to pick up a customer, offering her affection in return for a promise to do something particularly violent to somebody named Jeff. The fellow, entrapped by her seductive charms — even the scar that runs across her face doesn't mar her beauty — agrees. He encounters Jeff, and makes a terrifying discovery.

There are no surprises in this variation on the classic theme of vengeance from beyond the grave. What elevates it above the usual ghost story is truly fine writing. The woman's first appearance, when she is a barely detectable wisp, is particularly fascinating.

Four stars.

Wild Talents, Inc., by Robert Sheckley

The September/October 1953 issue of Fantastic supplies this comic yarn.


Cover art also by Leo Summers, what little you can see of it.

As you'd expect, the company named in the title deals with people who have psychic powers. It's pretty much an employment agency for such folks. Their latest client presents a problem.


Illustration by Emsh

It seems the fellow can observe anyone, at any location. Unfortunately, he's very much an oddball. His only interest is in recording their sexual activities in excruciating detail. The guy in charge of the company has to figure out a way to protect the public from this Peeping Tom, while making use of his peculiar ability in an acceptable way.

The whole thing is pretty much a mildly dirty, mildly clever, mildly amusing joke. You might see it as a spoof of the kind of psi-power stories that appear in Analog far too often. A minor effort from an author who is capable of much sharper satire.

Two stars.

Tooth or Consequences, by Robert Bloch

Another comedy, this time from the May 1950 issue of Amazing Stories.


Cover art by Arnold Kohn

It starts off like a joke. A vampire walks into a dentist's office . . .. It seems even the undead need to have their cavities filled. The vampire also swipes blood from the supply kept refrigerated in the same medical building. When the red stuff is then secured under lock and key, to prevent further thefts, the vampire tells the dentist he better get some of it for him, or else. There's a twist at the end you may see coming.

I suppose there's a certain Charles Addams appeal to the image of a fanged monster sitting in a dentist's chair. Otherwise, there's not much to this bagatelle.

Two stars.

The Eye of Tandyla, by L. Sprague de Camp

We go back to the May 1951 issue of Fantastic Adventures for this sword-and-sorcery yarn, one of a handful of stories in the author's Pusadian series. (The best-known one is probably the novel The Tritonian Ring, also from 1951.)


Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones

The setting is far back in time, long before recorded history. (The story goes that de Camp wanted to create a background similar to the one appearing in Robert E. Howard's tales of Conan, but in a more realistic fashion.) A wizard and a warrior must steal a magical gem from the statue of a goddess for their King, or be executed. Their plan involves disguising themselves with sorcery and sneaking into the place.


Illustration by Virgil Finlay.

To their amazement, it proves to be really easy to grab the jewel. So simple, in fact, that they smell a rat. They cook up a scheme to put the gem back in its place, steal a similar one from another place, and present that one to the King instead. Complications ensue.

You can tell that this isn't the most serious story in the world. The plot resembles a farce, with its multiple confusions and running back and forth. It's got the wit often found in Fritz Leiber's work of this kind, but not quite the same elegance. I'd say it's above the level of John Jakes, or even — dare I say it? — Howard himself, if not quite up to the very high standard of Leiber.

Three stars.

Close Behind Him, by John Wyndham

The January/February issue of Fantastic is the source of this chiller.


Cover art by Robert Frankenberg. The so-called new story by Poe is actually Robert Bloch's completion of a fragment.

Two crooks rob the house of a very strange fellow. The guy catches one of them in the act, so the hoodlum kills him.


Illustration by Paul Lundy.

The pair make their getaway, but are followed by blood-red footprints wherever they go. You can bet things won't go well for them.

This is a pretty decent horror story, nicely written, although — once again! — not up to the level of Fritz Leiber, particularly since we've got an example of his excellent work in the field of tales of terror in this very issue.

Three stars.

Space Devastator, by Anonymous

I'm not sure if I should even mention this tiny article, excerpted from the pages of the July 1939 issue of Amazing Stories.


Cover art by Robert Fuqua.

Anyway, it's less than a page long, and speculates about a huge station in orbit, equipped with a bunch of big mirrors.


Illustration by Julian S. Krupa

The notion is that such a thing could destroy entire populations from space by focusing the sun's rays and burning up cities. Casual mention is made of the fact that it could supply solar energy as well. I suppose it's imaginative for 1939, but it's so short — the original version was probably somewhat longer — that you can't get much out of it.

Two stars.

What Day is Good for You?

Today comes out a big winner over Yesterday and Tomorrow in this month's Fantastic. Leiber's contemporary ghost story is clearly superior to tales set in the future or in the legendary past. Otherwise, this isn't that great an issue, ranging from OK to below average.

You might well get more entertainment out of an award-winning film, such as this Italian comedy, which got the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film last year. Sophia Loren plays three different women, and Marcello Mastroianni three men, in a trio of lighthearted tales of love.


For some reason, every poster I've seen for this movie features Loren in her underwear. I wonder why that might be.

And you'll definitely enjoy the next exciting musical guest episode of The Journey Show, October 24 at 1PM Pacific!




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Magazine/Anthology, Serial

[October 18, 1965] Turn, Turn, Turn (November 1965 Fantasy & Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

The Winds of Change

History is divided into eras: The Stone Age, The Middle Ages, The Renaissance.  There are Golden Ages and Dark Ages.  The Jazz Age.  The Gilded Age.  One is never quite sure of a period's exact delineations, the precise moments of its beginning or end, until the next one is well on its way.  It is possible to tell when one is in an age, however, and also to feel keenly the wistful uncertain sense one gets in the doldrums between epochs.  Who can't have felt that way in the year succeeding President Kennedy's assassination, when his civil rights program, American involvement in Indochina, even the character of government in general hung in the balance.  And who can doubt that, for better or worse, the Johnson era has clearly begun?

I've lived through two sea changes in music.  The first was in 1954, when the overripe swing and schmaltz on the radio was overrun with a wave of rock and roll, particularly if you tuned into the Black stations (luckily, a radio tuner cannot easily be segregated).  By 1963, the winds of change had become muddled.  With folk, pop, motown, surf, and country vying for our eardrums, it was quite impossible to know then where the next two years would take us.  Then the Beatles spearheaded the biggest British invasion since 1812, and a new age was upon us.

Science fiction has its ages, too.  When I got into SF in a big way, the genre was clearly plumb in the middle of one.  It was 1954, four years after Galaxy's editor, Horace Gold, had thrown the gauntlet down at the feet of puerile pulp SF, five years after the new Fantasy and Science Fiction established a literary benchmark for the genre that has yet to be exceeded.  Science fiction primarily came in digest sized magazines, and the market was aflood with them.  Quality ranged from the penny-a-word mags which were little above the pulps that preceded them to stellar new fiction that burst beyond our solar system and ranged deep into our pysches.

As the 60s dawned, the genre had become anemic.  Almost all of the monthly digests had gone out of print.  The old stalwart, Astounding, had changed its name to Analog, but is fiction remained stolidly fixed in an older mode.  Gold retired from Galaxy and Fred Pohl struggled to keep it and its sister mags fresh as its reliable stable of authors left for greener (as in the color of money) pastures.  F&SF's helm passed on to Avram Davidson, whose whimsical style did the magazine few favors.

But the genre seems to have found its feet and is stomping off in a new direction.  Propelled by a "New Wave," again largely based in Britain, the science fiction I've been reading these days no longer feels like retreads of familiar stories.  They have the stamp of a modern era, an indisputable sense of 1960s.  And no single issue of a single magazine has represented this renaissance in SF better than the latest issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction.

A Fresh Breeze


by Gray Morrow (illustrating the many perils of … And Call Me Conrad (Part 2 of 2)

Come to Venus Melancholy, by Thomas M. Disch

Disch is one of the flagbearers of the new era.  In just three years, this new author has produced more than 20 stories, some of them quite brilliant.  In this one (set on an obviously pre-Mariner Venus), a lonely cyborg staffer of a trading post literally holds you captive while she tells the sad story of how she lost her love.

By turns horrifying and heartbreaking, it's a moving piece.  Four stars.

The Peacock King, by Larry McCombs and Ted White

Less effective though more experimental is this piece on the first successful hyperdrive jaunt.  After four failures, it is determined that the transition to hyperspace bears similarities to drug-induced schizophrenia.  One couple, so in love as to practically share a consciousness, is fed a regimen of psychoactives to prepare them for the trip.

Somewhat roughly written, and perhaps too short, it is nevertheless a fascinatingly "now" story delving into new territory.

Three stars.

Insect Attractant, by Theodore L. Thomas

This usually disappointing column of sf-story ideas masquerading as short science articles starts promisingly, discussing how insect pests could be eradicated through synthesis of female sex pheromones, which could then be sprayed to disrupt their breeding cycles.  A fine alternative to DDT.

But then he goes on to suggest that human females have similar pheromones, and that distillation and application of same could be used by marriage counselors, as if love is purely a matter of chemical compatibility. Perhaps the author has never been in love, let alone gotten married.  Of course, Mr. Thomas may have meant the piece in jest, though I also resented its casually sexist overtones.  Either way, it's not worth the page it occupies.

Two stars — and let's please 86 this column, Mr. Ferman?

… And Call Me Conrad (Part 2 of 2), by Roger Zelazny

When last we left Konstantin Karaghiosis, Minister for Cultural Sites on an atomics-devastated Earth, he was giving a tour of Greece to a blue-skinned Vegan, name of Cort Vishtigo, and his human entourage.  Ostensibly, the alien was on Earth to write a travelogue.  His true purpose is unknown, but the members of the Radpol movement believe Vishtigo's trip is a real estate survey, prelude to the Vegans buying up the planet to plunder.  An assassination attempt is in the offing, and Karaghiosis (virtually immortal and currently going by the name of Conrad) believes that the alien's bodyguard, Hassan, is the likely killer. 

That's the context, but the tale Zelazny weaves reads like a modern interpretation of mythology, with Conrad's party encountering a host of radiation mutated beasts, humans, and everything in-between.  Conrad is a tale of survival, of derring do, of proving worth.  It's also a pretty good mystery with a satisfying, if a touch too pat, ending.

At first, I was leery of Zelazny's style, a first person macho that threatens to become precious.  But there's enough self-deprecatory humor to make it work, and I found the pages flying.  There's enough action to keep it moving, enough depth to keep you thinking.

Four stars for this segment, and the novel as a whole is elevated to this rank as well.

El Numero Uno, by Sasha Gilien

It used to be that Death attended to matters personally.  Now, the business has boomed, and he requires field agents armed with legal contracts instead of scythes.  This particular case involves a harried operative on the sports beat and a particularly recalcitrant matador scheduled for expiration.

Good stuff in the style of Ron Goulart.  Four stars.

Squ-u-u-ush!, by Isaac Asimov

Having previously discussed the shortest measure of time, the largest measures of dimension, the hottest heat, and the coldest cold, the Good Doctor now explores the densest densities, starting with ordinary matter and proceeding the greatest crushes in the universe: the interior of giant stars.

Cutting edge stuff, and it's the first time I learned of neutronium, a state of matter even more compressed than that found inside a white dwarf.

Four stars.

A Few Kindred Spirits, by John Christopher

Last up, the much heralded author of No Blade of Grass offers up a tale combining a queer (in both senses of the word) group of dogs, the concept of reincarnation, and the pursuit of literary laurels.  A character study cum literal shaggy dog story, it's perhaps the most conventional piece of the issue — save for the rather daring (and refreshingly uncondemned) discussion of alternate sexual preferences.

Four stars.

The Sound of Shoes Dropping

It is clear that, after a long many-tacked jaunt in trackless seas, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has set a bold new course.  I have high hopes and more than a little suspicion that this New Wave era has many more exciting years left to it.

After quite a few lean years, I'm finally getting my dessert again!




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[October 10, 1965] Doctor Where? (Doctor Who: Mission To The Unknown)

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By Jessica Holmes

Probably weren’t expecting me to be back so soon, eh? We’ve got a very, very unusual story this week, courtesy of Terry Nation. Why is it so unusual? Let’s find out.

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Movies

[October 8, 1965] Handle with Care (Forbidden Planet)

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by Gideon Marcus

High Hopes

In preparation for the last episode of The Journey Show, in which we discussed the movies of the last fifteen years, the Young Traveler and I cast about for every SF movie we could find that we'd missed the first time through.  That's how we came across the "They came from 1951" double feature that Lorelei wrote so engagingly about.

And it's how we ended up in a dingy second-run theater at the edge of town for a viewing of the 1956 hit, Forbidden Planet.  I'd heard a lot about the film, that it was the first big budget rendition of classic space opera, that it was absolutely gorgeous, and that I was somehow remiss as a reviewer of science fiction for not having seen it. 

So don't let it be said that my upcoming savaging of the film is the result of any predisposition to be negative.  Indeed, I had every expectation that Forbidden Planet was going to be something special.

And, in some very negative ways, it is…

The Reality

Things start encouragingly enough, opening on a shot of the United Planets cruiser "C-57D" zooming through space.  All of the space ships of the 1950s (with the exception of the novel manta-ray looking ships from War of the Worlds) fall into two categories: V-2 rocketships and flying saucers, and the C-57D is a classic example of the second type. 

The vessel, skippered by Commander John J. Adams (Leslie Nielsen), has traveled more than a year to the real-life white star, Altair, to check up on the Bellerophon, a ship last heard from two decades before.  C-57D is apparently traveling at superluminal speeds, and in a nice bit, all of the crew head into cylindrical stasis chambers for the transition to normal space. 

Eight minutes into the movie, Lorelei and I were hooked.  This picture was absolutely beautiful and unlike anything we'd seen before.  We licked our lips in anticipation.

And then the disappointments began.

After making orbit around the green-tinged Altair IV (orbiting a strangely orange Altair) the C-57D gets a call from the surface.  Dr. Morbius (Walter Pidgeon) of the Bellerophon is the sole survivor of the prior expedition, and he tells Commander Adams in no uncertain terms that he needs no assistance and, in fact, the relief ship will be in danger if it lands.  Rather than asking why he shouldn't proceed, Commander Adams instead cuts off Dr. Morbius in mid-admonition!


"This program is boring – let's tune to Jack Benny!"

Nevertheless, the movie soon seduces us again with the following amazing shot and a vibrant set of electronic sound effects.

Upon landing, they are met by "Robby the Robot," a character the filmmakers were so proud of that they gave him his own title card.  It's true that he moves with all the grace of a man in a lumpy suit, and I have the disadvantage of having seen him reused in at least one episode of The Twilight Zone, but a robot that doesn't look like a person is a pleasant surprise.

Despite Dr. Morbius' earlier protestations, Robby has been sent to invite the Commander over for tea.  Adams and two of his men (the crew of the C-57D is entirely male, natch), Lieutenant Jerry Farman (Jack Kelly) and "Doc" Ostrow (the TV ubiquitous Warren Stevens) head over.  It turns out that Dr. Morbius has made quite a nest for himself.


Dr. Morbius in a typically declamatory pose

Dr. Morbius is affable enough, but he has a somber tale, which he delivers in a rather toneless monologue, as if telling a bedtime story.  Shortly after landing, the crew of the Bellerophon suffered gruesome death after death at the hands of some unseen beast.  Only the doctor and his wife were spared, because they loved the planet rather than fearing it, the doctor believes.

Sadly, his wife died soon after the incident due to natural causes.  Nevertheless, Dr. Morbius has not been alone the whole time.  For one, there's Robby: his home-built robot is the ultimate servant, able to produce any item from its belly…and it also does dishes!

And then, there is Altaira.

This fetching thing (Anne Francis, currently Honey West) is, of course, the daughter of Dr. Morbius and his wife, the latter having died in childbirth.  She is excited at meeting men, particularly the Lieutenant and the Commander (no accounting for taste – Doc Ostrow is the most likeable of the characters even if he's the first one to throw out a sexist comment, that Robby will be the bane of housewives everywhere).

Lieutenant Freeman wastes no time with the coquettish Altaira, first denigrating his Commander in a way that would be mutinous if Adams knew, and then explaining that kissing is beneficial to Altaira's health and they should indulge in it right quick.  It's a scene with all the charm of Walter Breen describing his virtues to your son. 

Altaira does not derive any pleasure from the event, and thankfully, Commander Adams shows up then to break things up.  But don't breathe a sigh of relief too quickly.  He's just there to tell Altaira that it's all her fault he assaulted her, and that she needs to put some damned clothes on, for goodness' sake.  After all, who is he to impose a modicum of discipline and respectfulness over his crew?  The skipper?

It gets worse, as he browbeats her for being flirtatious, clearly resentful that he wasn't the first target of her attentions.  Finally, he sends her off, all but threatening to spank her.

(It's in this scene, by the way, that we learn that the ship's complement of the C-57D is 18.  There is absolutely no way that 18 men were on this tiny saucer for more than a year.)

That night, something invisible sneaks past the sentries and destroys vital components of the spaceship.  The vessel is marooned unless repairs can be made.  Despite knowing that there is an invisible terror on the planet, Commander Adams is furious with his guards, roaring at them and meting out severe punishment.  At this point, we were wondering if the movie was deliberately showing that Commander Adams was both incompetent and a jerk in a subversion of the hero type.  Of course, we were giving the film too much credit. 

This painful vignette is followed by a truly groanworthy stretch of dialogue between Adams and Chief Engineer Quinn:

Quinn: Half of this gear we can replace and the rest we can patch up somehow…except this special Klystron frequency modulator.  With every facility of the ship, I think I might be able to rebuild it…but frankly, the book says no.  It came packed in liquid boron in a suspended grav…

Adams: All right, so it's impossible.  How long will it take?

Quinn: Well, if I don't stop for breakfast…

Adams: Get on it, Quinn.

Quinn: Thank you, sir.

This bothered me.  If the thing is fixable, give an accurate estimate, don't be coy to burnish your credentials as a miracle worker.  Frankly, this also made me think less of the Commander, who let him go without a actual timetable.

Note: I tend to be particularly sensitive to problematic portrayals of people in charge.  As a person who has run companies and other entities for years, the leader types are the ones I most identify with, and they have the job I have most familiarity with doing.  When I see it done wrong, especially when we're supposed to admire the leader character, it drives me nuts.

On with the show.

Commander Adams, having sated his sadism quota for the day, heads out with Ostrow back to Dr. Morbius' pad to get more information about the phantom beasts of Altair IV.  There, they espy Altaira bathing in the nude, after which she comes out of the water and puts on a new dress that covers everything, per Adams' prior orders.  You see, when Adams chastised her for being a floozy, she really liked it.  And in short order, this is happening:

At this point, Lorelei asked me why I was such a horrible father subjecting her to this dreck.  She clearly has a poor memory – subjecting her to dreck is a tradition that goes back almost seven years now.  In this case, though, my pain was easily as acute as hers.  And before you rejoinder my objection with, "Well, Altaira's clearly enjoying herself, so what's the problem?" I'll point out that Altaira isn't a person.  She's a flat character portraying what is obviously wish fulfillment on the part of the writer; she bears no resemblance to an actual human being in this situation.  That's why it's so painful to watch – she's treated horribly and then reacts unnaturally.

The smooching between Altaira and Adams enrages the girl's pet tiger, and Adams zaps the kitty into nonexistence.  Which just underlines another ridiculous part of this movie.  At every possible juncture, Adams whips out his gun.  He's already done it (I think) three times before this point in the movie.  It's a miracle the tiger is the first casualty of his itchy trigger finger.

When Dr. Morbius is not immediately forthcoming, Adams and Ostrow break into his private office and start reviewing the doctor's papers.  Morbius catches them in the act and is rightfully upset.

However, he calms down quickly enough and embarks on another monologue about how Altair IV used to be inhabited by a poweful species called the Krell, how the race had built these giant machines powered by the heat of the planet itself, and how, one day, they all murdered each other.

While the delivery is again unremarkable, the subject matter is interesting, and the scenes from the guided tour of the alien equipment is breathtaking, visually and aurally.

It turns out that the doctor is something special, too.  Upon finding the alien ruins, he had hooked himself up to an alien machine, a sort of mental waldo.  The same device had killed the Bellerophon's captain when he tried it out, but Morbius survived (barely).  Per his report (in yet another stultifying monologue), it doubled his intelligence, allowing him to create Robby and the other marvels of his Altairan residence.

While this tour is going on, the invisible monster slips aboard the C-57D again past increased defenses, for what sinister purpose, we don't yet know.  Back at the doctor's ranch, Adams is trying to get Morbius to give up the secrets of the Krell to humanity, but Morbius doesn't feel the human race is ready.  The conversation gets heated.  Adams and Ostrow return empty handed only to find that the unseen Altairan has killed a member of the cruiser's crew.  It left behind this remarkable footprint, which Ostrow recreated in plaster.

Amazingly, Adams does not throw anyone in the brig for dereliction of duty this time.  Instead, he holds a funeral for the lost crewman.


Again, there's no way 18 men were cooped up in that thing for a year.

That night, the beast comes back with a vengeance.  The ship's energy barriers and combined weaponry are almost useless against it and more crew die.

Right after the attack, we are shown this scene.  If you haven't figured out what's causing the attacks by this point, you may need to stay after class for extra assignments.

Adams and Ostrow rush back to the Morbius estate, where their passage is blocked by Robby.  They whip out their guns (of course) but those are quickly neutralized.  Altaira intercedes to let them in.  Shortly thereafter, Ostrow shows up with three burns on his forehead – he has used the mind waldo, which has given him tremendous mental powers.  They are too much for him, however, and he soon succumbs, but not before revealing that the monster is indeed a manifestation of Dr. Morbius' subconscious mind created by his link with the Krell's machines!


The tenderest scene in the movie

Adams confronts Morbius with the knowledge, explaining that Morbius unconsciously killed the crew of the Bellerophon when they wanted to leave the planet.  He started killing the crew of the U-57D when they threatened to take Altaira away from him.

The beast of Morbius' id now manifests even when the doctor is awake, coming after Adams even in the strongest of Krell sanctums. Adams, of course, whips out his gun, threatening to kill Dr. Morbius to stop the monster (even though we saw Robbie deactivate the blaster just minutes before).

Dr. Morbius throws himself in front of the door, castigating and disowning the id monster's existence.  The beast subsides, but Morbius is now dying (for some unknown reason).  With his last wish, he commands Adams to activate the Krell city's self-destruct mechanism.

This gives Adams enough time to take Altaira and Robby onto the U-57D, which is all fixed now despite "the book" saying a repair couldn't be done.  Hugging on the bridge in front of the 14 of his remaining sex-starved, uncontrollable crew, they watch as Altair IV explodes. 


The secrets of the ages?  Ah, who needs 'em.

Roll credits.

After Action Report

I didn't like this move.  We didn't like this movie.  The characters are all wretched (including the drunken cook whose subplot involving the plying of Robbie for manufactured booze wasn't worth discussing).  Commander Adams, if he turns in an unvarnished report, should be up for court martial several times over.  Walter Pidgeon has one setting, and he's left on it for too much of the movie.  Despite the film's not overlong running time, it often dragged.

Most disturbing is the anti-feminism, egregious even for these less-than-enlightened times.  As fellow traveler Erica Frank notes, "It's especially worth a sharp look when the story is science fiction, where the underlying message includes "so much of society has changed — these are the parts that were worth keeping."

So is there anything to like about this movie?  Well…

The touters are correct.  It is beautiful, from its set design to its special effects to its wide wide Cinemascope aspect ratio.  Cinematorapher George J. Folsey, whose credits go back to 1920 did a fine job.

The soundtrack, in particular, by avante garde electronic musicians Bebe and Louis Barron is just incredible.  I've only heard its like in the theme of Dr. Who and the music and effects of the British marionette show, Space Patrol.  It makes me want to break out some electronic components and build some modulating circuits for my own experimental purposes.

The background of the Krell and the Freudian id monster weren't bad as far as science fiction goes.  One could easily find such devices in a story from any of the SF mags of the era or before. 

In short, we liked everything about the movie but the movie.  I'm almost tempted to re-record the dialogue with an entirely new script, preserving the spectacular visuals and sound.

Perhaps I don't have to.  I understand that the new SF anthology show, Star Trek, has such lush production values that it will essentially look like Forbidden Planet on television.  As long as it doesn't hew too close to its predecessor.

As for rating Forbidden Planet. call it five stars for production values, three for the setup, and one for the execution…

Don't miss this weekend's episode of The Journey Show, taking you on a whirlwind tour of the exciting new field of Japanese animation!




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Movies

[October 6, 1965] Go, baby, go! (Faster Pussycat!  Kill!  Kill!)

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by Natalie Devitt

From the moment the Russ Meyer’s new film (screenplay by Jack Moran), Faster, Pussycat!  Kill!  Kill! opens with a voice-over announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to violence!”, it is made perfectly clear that this film may not be everyone’s cup of tea.  The voice-over warns the audience of a “rapacious new breed” of woman that “prowls both alone and in packs.” When the viewer is introduced to the movie’s three leading ladies, they are hard at work at their place of employment, a go-go club.

Out of the club, the group’s leader, Varla, is heard letting out an evil laugh while speeding off in her Porsche.  She leads the other two women, each at the wheel of their very own sports car, out for some fun in the desert.  Faster, Pussycat!  Kill!  Kill! establishes early on that Varla, played by burlesque dancer-turned-actress Tura Satana (1963’s Irma La Douce), rules her group by intimidation.

Varla orders everyone around and can become pretty abusive, to both men and women.  Her wardrobe for the better part of the film reflects her personality.  She is usually dressed all in black, shirt with a plunging neckline, pants, and gloves.  She also has long dark hair with blunt bangs.  Others describe her as a “beautiful animal”, “cold one” and even “a real Jekyll and Hyde.” Her main love interest, another woman and brunette named Rosie, can be seen lighting cigarettes for her.  Rosie is played by Canadian actress Haji, who can also be seen in another Russ Meyer film this year, Motorpsycho.  Rounding out the trio is blonde beauty Lori Williams of Viva Las Vegas (1964) in the role of Billie.

While taking a break from driving, a couple in another vehicle pulls up beside Varla’s group.  Tommy, “an all-American boy” and “champion” of his car club, hopes the ladies do not mind if he and his girlfriend try running some timing trials next to them.  Tommy explains that he picked the location because it is “about the best measured strip around.” Varla gives them the go-ahead.  Timing Tommy’s driving is his girlfriend, the incredibly sweet and innocent Linda.  She is played by Susan Bernard (General Hospital), daughter of pin-up photographer Bruno Bernard.

Less than impressed with Tommy’s trials, Varla challenges him with, “I don’t beat clocks, just people.  You want to try me?” The other members of her group hop into their cars and start racing.  Shortly after, he and Varla wind up in a physical altercation. Varla strikes him repeatedly, then breaks his neck, killing him instantly.  Linda faints.  Worried that Linda could be a witness, the women kidnap her.

After fleeing the scene of the crime, Varla and the gang stop at a gas station.  A muscular but not terribly bright young man, a character known only as “the Vegetable” according to the film’s credits, catches Billie’s eye.  The gas station attendant informs Billie that the Vegetable is “kind of a nut” and his disabled father, who he lives with, is a real “sick character.” The attendant goes on to explain that the man’s dad was injured in a railroad accident.  His father received a hefty settlement and rumor has is that the money is hidden somewhere on the property.  With their curiosity piqued and Linda gagged and bound, the ladies set out in search of the money, but as the film’s introduction warns, “Violence devours all that it touches.”

The film wastes no time establishing the tone of the movie.  In fact, the film wastes no time at all, due in no small part to Meyer’s incredibly fast-paced editing.  I cannot help but think how much Meyer’s time spent filming combat footage during World War II, combined with photographing pin-ups early in his career, clearly shaped his very unique brand of filmmaking.

A large part of what makes me like Faster, Pussycat!  Kill!  Kill! is its sense of humor.  The surprisingly witty banter between the characters really prevents this motion picture about violence from becoming dark and depressing.  Another aspect of the film that helps to create a one of a kind movie-going experience is the music, including an excellent theme song provided by The Bostweeds.  What’s not to love about a song with lyrics like, “If you think that you can tame her, well, just you try!”

The cast, while not terribly experienced as actors, aside from bit parts here and there, or appearances in other Russ Meyer films, like Mudhoney (also 1965), are actually quite good together.  Varla, in particular, is fascinating and unlike any character I have ever seen in a movie.

She, along with her partners in crime, are usually photographed with the camera looking up at them or they appear in the foreground of a number of shots.  Sure, Walter Schenk’s photography helps to draw attention to their voluptuous figures, but the camera angles he utilizes also make the women appear larger than life and even more powerful, especially when they are posed with their hands on their hips or have a leg up on the bumper of a car.  Everything and everyone in Faster, Pussycat!  Kill!  Kill! is very over the top.  The film also incorporates a number of surprisingly creative shots, including a particularly memorable one from underneath Varla’s steering wheel during a racing scene.

Even though I hear that it is not performing very well at the box office, Faster, Pussycat!  Kill!  Kill! is essential viewing for the more adventurous moviegoer.  It is totally original and unlike anything you will see all year.




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[October 4, 1965] Galaxy Bore (Doctor Who: Galaxy 4)

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By Jessica Holmes

Hello, dear readers! Summer’s passed, there’s a cold snap in the air, and Doctor Who is back on our television sets, which means that I get to waffle on to you about it at great length. Did you miss me?

We’re kicking things off with a strange new world and a new writer. I don’t believe we’ve had William Emms pen an episode before, so shall we see how he got on?

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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[October 2, 1965] Gimmickry (November 1965 IF)

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by David Levinson

When I was a boy, a gimmick was either much the same thing as a gadget or the sort of device a crooked casino owner would use to make sure the roulette wheel comes up 22. These days, of course, it means an ingenious new angle or a trick to draw attention in advertising. It can also be the sort of thing that makes a story work or at least that the author hopes will make the story interesting.

America’s Pastime

Baseball is no stranger to gimmicks. From sending midgets up to bat to exploding scoreboards, owners and general managers will do anything to get fans to come out to the park. After starting the season by losing 21 of their first 26 games, the Kansas City Athletics have been mired in the cellar all season. Desperate to get people into the stands as the season winds down, owner Charlie Finley came up with a couple of gimmicks in the last month. September 8th, was Campy Camp Night and regular shortstop Bert “Campy” Campaneris played all nine positions in a single game. Up against the Los Angeles Angels (or I guess California by that time, speaking of gimmicks), Campy started at shortstop and moved from position to position each inning. In the eighth, he took the mound and even switch pitched, throwing right-handed to right-handed batters and left-handed to left-handed batters. Alas, while catching in the ninth, Campy was injured in collision at the plate and had to sit out a few games.

On the 25th, Finley invited several old player from the Negro Leagues to be present when Satchel Paige took the mound against the Boston Red Sox. At 59, he’s the oldest person ever to play in the big leagues (and at 34 Athletics’ manager Haywood Sullivan is the youngest manager). Satch sat in a rocking chair in the bullpen between innings, being served coffee by a “nurse”. He pitched three innings, giving up only one hit. He came out to the mound to start the fourth, but as planned he was removed. The lights were dimmed, and the crowd held up lighters and lit matches and sang “The Old Gray Mare” as Paige walked off.


Left: Bert Campaneris. Right: Satchel Paige, with “nurse”

Baseball also saw a couple of milestones. On September 9th, Sandy Koufax of the Los Angeles Dodgers pitched a perfect game against the Chicago Cubs. (For non-baseball fans, that means Koufax and the Dodgers did not allow a single opposing player to get on base through any means.) Pity Cubs pitcher Bob Hendley, who gave up only one hit in the game. Four days later, on the 13th, San Francisco Giants player Willie Mays became the fifth player and first Black player to hit 500 career home runs. Congratulations to both men, whose teams, at the time of writing, are still vying to see which will make it to the World Series. Good luck to both (though I’m rooting for the Dodgers).


Left: Sandy Koufax. Right: Willie Mays

Gimmicks good and bad

This month’s IF is not without its gimmicks. Let’s get to it.


In orbit around a collapsed star. Art by Morrow

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Magazine/Anthology, Serial

[September 30, 1965] Big and Little Bangs (October 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

The Big One

Billions of years ago, the entire universe was smaller than the head of a pin.  For an endless eternity, or perhaps just an instant, it remained in this state – and then it exploded outward with the force of creation, ultimately becoming all that we see today.

Until this year, this "Big Bang" theory was as yet unconfirmed.  It had stiff competition in the "Steady State" hypothesis, which postulated that the universe is indeed expanding, but because of matter being constantly created.  This was fundamental to the plot of Pohl and Williamson's recent novels set in the reefs of space at the edges of our solar system.

But last year, Arno Penzias and Robert Wilson at the Bell Telephone Laboratories in Murray Hill, New Jersey noticed an excess of radio noise in the receiver they were building, an excess that closely resembled the Cosmic Microwave Background predicted by physicists Ralph Alpherin, Robert Herman, and George Gamow.  This extremely low level but pervasive energy is what's left of the heat of the primeval explosion, reduced to microwaves by the expansion of the universe.


The Murray Hill facility where the echoes of the Big Bang were discovered

Smaller Ones

Here on Earth, it seems our planet is anxious to imitate the violence of the universe at large.  On September 28, the Taan Volcano off the coast of the Philippine island of Luzon exploded, killing hundreds of Filipinos.

And less of a bang and more of a blaaat, we've just finished ringing in the Jewish new year with the traditional blowing of a ram's horn.

The Littlest One

Meanwhile, editor John W. Campbell, Jr. seems content to not rock the boat, providing a mixed bag of diverting fare and stale garbage in the latest issue of Analog, a combination that is unlikely to knock anyone off their feet.


by John Schoenherr

Overproof, by Johnathan Blake MacKenzie

On a planet two hundred light years from home, a husband and wife pair of anthropologists come across a horrifying discovery.  The native Darotha, an amphibian race resembling across between a cat and an octopus, are eating humans.  At least, it seems that way – the Yahoos, apelike herd animals on their planet, bear a striking resemblance to homo sapiens.  Are the Darothans really mass murderers?  Or are looks deceiving?


by John Schoenherr

This is an interesting piece that Randall Garrett (under a pseudonym) has offered up.  Unusually for an Analog story, the Darothans are a well-drawn alien race and not played for inferiority – indeed, they are treated with sensitivity not only by the author but by the Terran colonists on the planet, who see them as exciting as potential partners and as an example of non-human society.  In the end, the story is essentially an inverse of Piper's Fuzzy stories, where the question is not whether the humanoid Yahoos possess the spark of humanity, but whether they don't.

It's not a perfect story.  The conclusion is pretty obvious from the beginning, it meanders and repeats a bit, but it's more subtle than what I usually see in Analog, and it kept me interested.

Three stars.

The Veteran, by Robert Conquest

Humans from the future, who have forgotten the art of war, summon someone from the past to lead them in a war against alien nasties.  Unfortunately for them, the person they've found is a devout pacifist.  But luckily, the fellow discovers the battle lust within that he needs to fulfill his role.

Rather offensive, simplistic, and for some reason, the aliens conquer our solar system in reverse order of distance from the Sun even though it's unlikely that they'd all be lined up so obligingly.

Two stars.

Snakebite!, by Alexander W. Hulett, M.D. and William Hulett

For some reason, Campbell saw fit to include this high school science project discussing the use of snake venom to produce antivenom blood serum in rodents.  As an actual article, it might have been mildly interesting, but in its current form, it's pretty pointless.

Two stars.

The Mischief Maker, by Richard Olin


by John Schoenherr

A story told in epistolary, Maker describes how a crackpot professor with a grudge stumbles across the great power of the Law of Analogy, which he uses to destroy the leaders of America through various bits of voodoo and witchcraft.  Truth be told, my eyes glazed over when the author mentioned the Hieronymous Machine, that psychic amplifier requiring no power source that editor Campbell is so enamored of.

Two stars.

Space Pioneer (Part 2 of 3), by Mack Reynolds


by John Schoenherr

Last but not least, we have the continuation of Reynolds' serial that began last month.  When last we'd seen the assassin impersonating Rog Bock, shareholder in the colonial venture on New Arizona, his masquerade had been discovered by at least one other shareholder.

Part 2 begins with the colony ship Titov landing on its virgin planet destination, so closely resembling Earth as to be a near twin.  The rapaciousness of the shareholders' goal becomes clear as the 2000 colonists find they have virtually no rights, that the shareholders plan to sell the valuable resource rights to outside entities almost immediately, and that the crew of the ship largely comprise ex-military personnel to make them a ready police force to keep the settlers in line.

Unrest threatens to boil over as the colony teeters on the brink of collapse, reeling from colonist indolence and sabotage by unknown persons – but by the end of this installment, they all have bigger concerns to worry about…

Again, Pioneer has only the barest trappings of science fiction.  Nevertheless, this is one of Reynolds' more deft tales, and I'm enjoying it a lot.

Four stars for this bit.

Seismographic Data

Where does this leave us for the month?  Well, Analog clocks in at just 2.7 stars, below Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.4), Science Fantasy (3.3), New Worlds (2.8), and Worlds of Tomorrow (2.8); it is just tied with the lackluster Galaxy.

It did manage to beat out the disappointing Amazing (2.6), IF (2.3), and the truly awful Gamma (1.5), however.

There were just two and a half pieces written by women (one was co-written) out of 58: 4.3%.  Surprisingly, the women-penned tales were all in the UK mags, which are usually all stag.  No women authors were included in either of the "All Star" Galaxy and F&SF issues this month, which is a real shame.  Where are Evelyn Smith and Margaret St. Clair?

Perhaps they are planning to return with a bang.  I certainly expect to herald their next stories with fireworks!

Looking for good science fiction by women?  Look no further than Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), the bestseller containing 14 of our favorite stories of the Journey era!




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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[September 26, 1965] Allegory and Mythology Science Fantasy and New Worlds, October 1965

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

After all the excitement about the Worldcon in London at the end of last month (I gather a good time was had by all!) we are back to normal this month.

The issue that arrived first in the post this month was Science Fantasy.

The cover by Agosta Morol hearkens back to mythology, as did the cover of the September-October 1964 issue. It’s clearly deliberate as the main story then, as now, was by Thomas Burnett Swann, who is by now developing quite a reputation for revisiting ancient myths and revising them for a modern-day readership.

After last month’s Guest Editorial by Brian Aldiss, this month the Editorial this month is by Kyril’s second-in-command. It rather makes me wonder what has happened to Mr. Bonfiglioni, although the top of the editorial states that he is away in Venice, stargazing – lucky thing!

Having said that, the Editorial is not that different to normal. Mr. James Parkhill-Rathbone begins in a roundabout way by talking of architecture and design before going on to make the point that because humans have a lack of logic then future trends are nearly impossible to predict accurately. I liked it – there’s an entertaining mix of anecdotal humour and serious point-age going on.

To the actual stories.

The Weirwoods (Part 1 of 2), by Thomas Burnett Swann

And so straight in with a bang. If you have been following my writings here, you may know that I really like Burnett-Swann’s re-imaginings of ancient myths and folklore. His story The Blue Monkeys was the first issue of Science Fantasy I reviewed here way back in September 1964, and since then his material has always entertained. So, having tackled Greek myths and Persian myths, this time he is telling a tale from Etruria. It is the story of two cultures – one human, the other mythological – and the difficult relationship the two groups have with each other. At the beginning there is a reluctant trade between the Etruscan people of the city of Sutrium and the many different species of the neighbouring Weirwood, where we have Centaurs, Sprites, Nymphs, Fauns and the like.

The main characters are Lars Velcha of Spina and his daughter Tanaquil. Whilst moving to Sutrium they stop at a lake, and Lars captures a young teenage Water Sprite called Vel to make him a slave for Tanaquil. When travelling troubadour Arnth visits Sutrium and is invited to stay at their house, he decides to free Vel and return him to his people of the lake. This involves Arnth going to the lake and negotiating with Vegoia, who is the sorceress of the Weir people. They return to Sutrium and end the story on a cliffhanger to be concluded in the second part next month.

Once again Burnett Swann entices with his expressive descriptions and context. His writing clearly shows an intelligent understanding of ancient myths. In this mystical land before the Romans he manages to eloquently and lyrically describe the different cultures. The Weir folk are appropriately unearthly, whilst the humans seem to reflect both the innocence and the avarice of human nature.

Although parts do read like a fairytale, it is definitely a story for adults. Whilst Thomas’s previous stories have always had an element of sexuality to them, The Weirwoods is perhaps the most explicit yet. There’s sex and a lot of nakedness and men in loincloths which may be too frank or even shocking to some readers – most of the men-slaves and the male creatures are naked, for example, and the author spends some time giving details of this. He doesn’t hold back too much on the youthful desire the virginal Tanaquil has for Vel and Arnth, either, or indeed the relationship of Arnth and the weir woman Vegoia. There’s also explicit scenes in the entertaining stories Vel tells his audience as part of his performances. Such aspects lend a certain degree of maturity to the story that, whilst not for everyone, add depth and detail.

It is a sign of confidence that the serial fills over 70 pages of the magazine’s 130 this month. As ever, literate and entertaining without being obtuse. 4 out of 5.

Ragtime, by Pamela Adams

A new name to me, and – good heavens! – a woman writer! (Actually, I think that both magazines have tried hard to include women writers in the last couple of years, although there is a noticeable dearth generally.) The story is really a ghost story told by a woman about the disappearance of her husband one night whilst staying on a river boat. There’s some “Be warned – I should tell you about the weird goings-on…” type of comments, but it is readable, if a tad predictable. 3 out of 5.

Green Goblins Yet, by W Price

Another new name. This month’s lightest tale is one of those jokey-style shaggy dog stories set in a diner, where a mysterious stranger immediately nicknamed ‘Egghead’ comes looking for a goblin after a newspaper story of sheep being savaged in the Kinder Scout area. After asking the locals in the diner for advice, Jigsy and Spike agree to help find it – which they do. A story in that category I normally think of that starts, “You’ll never believe it, but…” Entertaining enough. 3 out of 5.

State of Mind, by E. C. Tubb

The popular return of one of the old guard, E.C.’s story is about a man who begins to suspect that his wife, who he has been married to for more than fifteen years, is not who he thought she is. Is it the sign of a mental breakdown, or something more sinister? It is well told, but a lesser tale of paranoia and perception, one that slow-burns until the violent end. One for the Twilight Zone fans, I guess. (We still haven’t seen the television series here in Britain, by the way.) 3 out of 5.

The Foreigner, by Johnny Byrne

I said last month that Johnny has produced some very strange stories in the past, with varying degrees of success for me. This is another oddity, a story told by a man meeting his seemingly-eccentric new neighbour, who insists on trying to throw himself out of his window wrapped in a mattress plugged into the mains electricity. The reason for this is typical Byrne material, but I quite liked it. 3 out of 5.

Goodnight, Sweet Prince, by Philip Wordley

Philip last appeared in the May 1965 issue of Science Fantasy with Timmy and the Angel. This time his story (quoting Hamlet, literary fans!) is of a future where people can time-travel into the past. On this particular occasion film magnate Art Kirbitz and his crew have travelled to Shakespearean England to film an original version of Hamlet. Director Harry Gorrin goes in search of the original manuscript in Shakespeare’s own writing, but finds a letter being written by the Bard that puts a very different slant on the man. The twist in the tale at the end is nothing really new, but I quite liked this one, although the modern-day patois between the financier and his modern crew, full of “beefy cats” and “gonnas”, is a little too unsubtle for my liking. However, this is the best story I’ve read from Philip. 3 out of 5.

Summing up Science Fantasy

Any issue that has Thomas Burnett Swann makes me happy – entertaining storytelling giving us a glimpse into a different world. I’m pleased that this one doesn’t let me down and I’m already looking forward to next month’s continuation. The rest of the issue is a little more variable but, in the end, rather pedestrian. Not really a bad story there, but generally too bland for me. Overall then, a rather middling issue, dominated by the raunchy Burnett Swann.

Onto this month’s New Worlds.

The Second Issue At Hand


After the Aldiss issue last month, we’re almost back to normal with this month’s arrival of New Worlds. This includes a dreadful uncredited cover.

This month’s editorial from Mike Moorcock is short and rather perfunctory. He points out that the stories this month are “closer to the imaginative fantasies of Kafka, Peake or Borges than, say, the work of Asimov or Heinlein” before then reviewing an issue of one of the semi-professional magazines and finally making the point that emotion is as important in sf as much as conceptual ideas. It feels like a mixed hodge-podge of ideas without too much thought.

To the stories!

Bill, the Galactic Hero, Part 3: E=mc2 – OR BUST, by Harry Harrison

Straight into the final part of Harry Harrison’s parodic serial, where hapless Bill finds himself in court for desertion. He is placed in prison to do hard labour for one year and then sent back to the battlefront on a reduced rank. The place Bill goes to reminded me of Harrison’s other recent novel, Deathworld, as it is a deadly planet, and the story seems much more serious at this point. He meets old friends and enemies there. The end of the story turns full circle.

I really want to like this story, and I know many that do, but despite trying I just can’t warm to it. This one seems to totally run out of steam. In addition, the creation of a character that is an “Arabic-Jewish-Irish con man” seems to be wanting to offend as many people as possible. Others however find it hilarious. 3 out of 5.

The Golden Barge, by William Barclay

The first of Moorcock’s vaunted allegorical stories. (William Barclay is actually Michael Moorcock in another of his guises.) Jephraim Tallow finds himself chasing a golden barge down a river. His boat runs aground on a sandbar. Floundering onto land, he meets Pandora, a strange woman with green eyes, who takes him home. She seduces him and he falls in love with her. However, this idyll is interrupted when a group of drunken revellers turn up. After some sort of orgy, Tallow realises that he must continue his journey on the river, but to do so means leaving Pandora. Pleading by Pandora to stay leads to a sad end.

I get that the story is really a tale of a man’s life-journey and how he must continue to travel through life, despite the distractions that come his way. At times, the story is quite lyrical, but otherwise it didn’t really do much for me. I suspect that some of the allegory is beyond me. 3 out of 5.

Heat of the Moment, by R. M. Bennett

Nuts-and-bolts salesman Chris Parker finds himself rescued out of a burning building to be abducted by Collectors of the Prime Government of the Second Planet of Rigel as a sample of the fauna of Sol Three. Despite the good intentions of the aliens, the situation doesn’t end well. A one-trick tale that seems fairly pointless. 3 out of 5.

Emancipation, by Daphne Castell

For the second time in two months we have that rare event of a story written by a woman. It is something that we should see more of in these magazines and Ms Castell takes her opportunity well. Emancipation initially reads like an old-style fantasy tale with seemingly primitive alien lizard-men keeping the seemingly less intelligent women of the tribe penned up and looked after as if they were animals.

With names like “Krug of Stok”, at first I thought that this was a parody of the Robert E Howard Conan stories, although we later discover that the Stokka are a seemingly primitive race living on the planet Stok. When Krug hears from Skag and Lopp, Lopp tells them of the technological gifts that space-faring Terrans from Sunward 3 bring to newly discovered planets. The Stokka men realise that in return for the setting-up of a space beacon and a Galactic Embassy they could gain technological power, wealth and status on their rather run-down planet. The aliens decide it would be a good idea to fete the humans, despite their cultural differences, and to show willingness re-educate some of the Stok women into the ways of the Terrans. This leads to cultural change previously unimagined by the men.

Another ‘comedy’ story, this time a comedy of manners and different cultures, based around the idea that how people see different cultures is funny. It’s really one of those old adventure stories where explorers act as missionaries to primitive tribes, but in a science fictional setting.

In the end, the story was better than I thought it was going to be – as comedy I enjoyed it more than Bill’s story, for example – but not a memorable one. 3 out of 5.

Jake in the Forest, by David Harvey

This story describes a series of lifecycles. Firstly, Jake travels through a forest, marvelling at the complex ways in which patterns and processes are present. Like in the Golden Barge, he meets a woman who feeds him and puts him to bed, after which he appears to be back in the forest in a different form. Approaching a megalith, he appears to be buried by it but instead takes another form, appears in a cavern by a lake and then the sea. Finally, he appears to be in bed in a forest cottage, gets up, washes, eats and drinks, and meets a beautiful woman. It appears that this cycle keeps him eternal.

Another allegorical story, quoting Ibsen but little more than a series of expressive set pieces. Poetic in its descriptions, but it did little for me. Seems to want to be Ballard. Despite Moorcock’s attempt in the Editorial to explain its purpose here in the issue – it is written “from a creative need to find fresh methods of telling a story and making a point” – it gives lots of description but the point is weak, not to mention unintelligible. Not for me. 2 out of 5.

… And Isles Where Good Men Lie, by Bob Shaw


Illustration by James Cawthorn

The return of Bob Shaw after a long absence from this magazine is a good thing, although at first glance this one reads like a traditional sf space opera story. Lt. Col. John Fortune is commander of a military base at United Nations Planetary Defence Unit N186. Nesster spaceship Number 1753 looks like it is due to land at his base, and the unit is put on alert. The legendary ‘Captain Johnny’ is put on display to the press as a sign that all is well, as a hero of the Nesster War.

However, despite all of the surface sheen and bluster, behind the scenes the story is less rosy. Fortune’s friend and scientific genius, Bill Geisler, is asked by Fortune to try and find the guiding spaceship and shoot it down before it lands.

More so, Fortune’s personal life is falling apart. His wife, Christine, is clearly having an affair with charismatic youngster Pavel Efimov, something they barely seem to hide. The plot edges into a soap opera melodrama, rather than a space opera.

Nevertheless, all is resolved at the end.

An odd one this, in that Bob has taken a somewhat traditional sf plot and given it some modern, if unusual touches. Fortune is overweight and yet a figurehead hero, with a domestic life that is about as far from the American ideal as you’d expect. I liked the fact that it was set in Iceland, again somewhere different from the typical US missile base. There’s also some debate about what to do with the aliens, once seen as a threat and now possibly something more. On the downside though, at times the story can come across as a tale of macho-posturing which at times veers into near- hysteria. It’s good to see Bob back, but this is not one of his best. 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews and Dr Peristyle

In the review section, amusingly titled Self-Conscious Sex, only one book is reviewed this month. Charles Platt reviews Robert A Heinlein’s A Stranger in a Strange Land as “a remarkably dull book”, where “Stylistically, cloying American cliché and banter merge with a coyness…inconsistent with the self-consciously bold aim to be frank about sex…” Clearly not a fan.

In happier news, “Dr. Peristyle” (aka Brian Aldiss) is back. This month he holds forth on topics as wide-ranging as religion, the function of sf as ‘literature’, the importance of scientific accuracy and whether publishers are producing quantity rather than quality. It continues to make me laugh.

Summing up New Worlds

An issue with lofty ambitions but for me surprisingly mundane. The allegorical tone of some of the material is a worthy attempt to be different, but left me unimpressed. And whilst many readers will be sad to see Bill the Galactic Hero go, (see the ratings for the first part in issue 153 below), I won’t. Here’s to a fresh restart next issue.

Summing up overall

Although neither issue is an outstanding one, as you might gather, it is pretty clear which issue I enjoyed most this month. I appreciate what Moorcock is trying to do in New Worlds, but for me the more memorable read is Science Fantasy by far.

Until the next…



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