The Woodstock Music and Art Fair 1969 will live on in fashion for hundreds of years. Truly, this little festival of love is already making waves within weeks of the event. Like other artist-driven movements before it–the Pre-Raphaelites, Aesthetes, and Primitifs, to name a few–the Hippie Movement will inspire again and again, living on in infamy as the pinnacle of rebellion, freedom, and youth.
Ossie Clark Aeroplane, 1969 by Jim Lee.
Let us then take a moment to appreciate that we are living in a moment of great aesthetic change. If French Rococo had come from the cobblestone streets instead of the marble steps of the palace, this is what it might have felt like. Wondrous, confident, inclusive, worldly… Let us fall into our own naturalistic dream through a cacophony of colors and patterns, divine geometry, and just the exquisite mess of it all.
Without further ado, here are three les créateurs du jour to celebrate and thank for the vibrant fantasy that is 1969.
Ossie Clark has said that this photograph is meant to comment on soldiers that fool around and don’t take the war seriously. Celia Birtwell represents a peasant girl being sexually assaulted by a soldier holding a gun to her thigh while wearing one of Ossie’s floral dresses, 1969.
Ossie Clark is making the biggest splash of his career right now, and for good reason. Photographer Jim Lee helped bring his vision to life for the editorial series entitled 'Vietnam', a brutal commentary on both the realities of the war and his ardent hope for peace. His other photoworks with Jim Lee depict a similar combination of violence and vibrance that feel both glamorous and political. 'Target' uses the same bright, primary palette, but is reminiscent of suicide bombers. Ossie Clark has mentioned that his intent with the photo was to make it appear as if Celia Birtwell had survived a nosedive unscathed.
Celia Birtwell wearing an Ossie kaftan dress in parti color yellow and green. Interestingly, the fourth attempt at this photograph left the detonation expert badly burned.
Ossie Clark would not be complete, however, without his life and design partner, Celia Birtwell. Her Botticelli print has inspired much of Ossie’s fashion this year, making its way onto trousers, peasant tops, kaftans, and gowns. She is the mastermind behind the “floating” textiles that make his designs so bold and nymph-like.
The “Botticelli” print by Celia Birtwell on Ossie Clark’s chiffon and satin trouser suit, 1969.
The “Floating Daisy” and “Poppy” prints by Celia Birtwell on Ossie Clark’s crepe and chiffon evening dress and coat, 1969.
Zandra Rhodes is another exceptional designer with an eye for color that simply glows with life. Her first collection came out this year, titled “The Knitted Circle.” The stand-out piece from her very first collection is the jaw-dropping Butterfly Coat. This coat made of golden wool with a quilted collar that curls away from the neck like butterfly wings, dragged towards the ground with elegant beaded cords. The bodice’s embroidery is a trompe l’oeil print, which keeps its volume and shape from becoming too heavy. And the skirt’s rose and diamond print is reminiscent of gardens and tea in a charming, youthful way.
The Butterfly Coat’s skirt is a full circle gathered into a fitted bust, emblematic of the circular tailoring theme that Rhodes uses across the entire collection, 1969.
Other garments in the collection are ethereal and frothy, following the theme of full circle cutting in the skirts and balloon sleeves. The circular motif is inviting but powerful. When combined with Rhodes’ deft hand at color, it speaks to the energy of young women and their audacity to be happy as themselves.
Detail of the Butterfly Coat by Zandra Rhodes, 1969.
Let us end this little tour with a man of many talents. Giorgio di Sant’Angelo has apprenticed under Pablo Picasso and Walt Disney, worked as a textile designer for furniture, and studied industrial design. His personality is big and his look cherubic. Most stunning, though, is that his work embodies it all.
Sant’Angelo in 1968 photographed with a model draped in his scarves.
The scarf wall at the Phoenix Art Museum.
Sant’Angelo is daring and bold, but there’s an inherent softness to his work. He combines organic subjects with psychedelic color, and geometry with hand-drawn repetition rather than precision. There’s a speculative element to his work that makes one think he wishes to drape you in dreams rather than necessarily create clothing.
Even his heavier textiles maintain the dreamlike crossroads between geometry and mysticism. For his photoshoot with Veruschka for Vogue in 1968, he supposedly took only fabrics and jewelry, draping each frame by hand. The result is a mesmerizing dance of triangles and circles.
The above photographs are from the Vogue desert photoshoot, photographed by Franco Rubartelli.
Enjoy these watershed years, my friends! We are seeing the future being shaped as we live and breathe. What will the Hippie movement lead to next? Fops and dandies? Peasant dresses and pastorales? It will seep into our daily lives, of that there is no question.
[And now, for your reading pleasure, a clutch of books representing the science fiction and fantasy books that have crossed our desk for review this month!]
by Victoria Silverwolf
Ye Gods!
Two new fantasy novels, both with touches of science fiction, feature theological themes. One deals with deities that are now considered to be purely mythological, the other relates to one of the world's major living religions. Let's take a look.
The title of this strange novel comes from a book written by Saint Teresa of Avila, a Spanish Christian mystic of the sixteenth century. This work, known as The Interior Castle or The Mansions in English, compares various stages in the soul's spiritual progress to mansions within a castle. From what I can tell from a little research, the Fourth Mansion is the stage at which the natural and the supernatural intersect.
(I'm sure I'm explaining this badly. Interested readers can seek out a copy of Saint Teresa's book for themselves.)
I understand that Lafferty is a devout Catholic, so this connection between his latest novel and what is considered to be a classic of Christian literature must be more than superficial. Be that as it may, let's see if we can make any sense out of a very weird book.
Our hero is Fred Foley, a reporter who is said to be not very bright, but who seems to have some kind of special insight or perception as to events beyond the mundane. (A sort of Holy Fool, perhaps.) He gets involved in multiple conspiracies of folks, who may be something other than just ordinary human beings, out to change the world.
There are four such groups, said to be not quite fit for either Heaven or Earth. Each one is symbolized by an animal.
The Snakes, also known as the Harvesters, are a group of seven people who blend their psychic powers to influence the minds of others. They are intent on bringing about a sort of hedonistic apocalypse. Their connection to Foley and other characters allows for telepathic communication, and sets the plot in motion.
The Toads are folks who are reincarnated, or somehow take over new bodies. (It's a little vague.) Foley's investigation into one such person starts the novel. They intend to release a plague, wiping out most of humanity and ruling over the survivors.
The Badgers are people who are something like spiritual rulers of a kind of parallel world that most ordinary people can't perceive. Foley pays a visit to a couple of these seemingly benign people for information. In one case, this involves a trip to a mountain in Texas that shouldn't be there.
The Unfledged Falcons are would-be fascists, military leaders trying to take over the world by force. Only one such person appears in the book, a Mexican fellow named Miguel Fuentes. He gets involved when the Snakes try to influence an American named Michael Fountain (see the connection in names?) and wind up entering his mind by mistake.
I would be hard pressed to try to describe all the bizarre things that happen. Lafferty has a way of describing extraordinary events in deadpan fashion. (We're very casually told, for example, that one character brought a dead man back to life when he was a boy. One very minor character is a demon, and another one is an alien.)
The book's combination of whimsey and allegory is unique, to say the least. There's a lot of dialogue that sounds like nothing anybody would ever say in real life. Did I understand it all? Certainly not. Did I enjoy the ride? Yep.
Zelazny's recent novel Lord of Light offered a futuristic twist on Buddhism and Hinduism. This one makes use of ancient Egyptian gods, as well as a bit of Greek mythology. There are also a lot of original concepts, making for a very mixed stew indeed.
The time is the far future, when humanity has settled multiple planets. Don't expect a space opera, however.
We begin in the House of the Dead, ruled by Anubis. He has a servant who has lost his memory and his name. Anubis gives him the name Wakim, and sends him to the Middle Worlds (the physical realm) to destroy the Prince Who Was A Thousand. Meanwhile, Osiris, who rules the House of Life, sends his son Horus on the same errand.
You see, Anubis and Osiris keep the population of the Middle Worlds in balance, bringing life and death in equal amounts. The Prince threatens this system with the possibility of immortality. Although the two gods have the same goal, they are also rivals, so their champions battle each other as well as the Prince.
This is a greatly oversimplified description of the basic plot. A lot more goes on, with many equally god-like characters. There's a sort of scavenger hunt for three sacred items, with the protagonists hopping around from planet to planet in search of them.
Zelazny experiments with narrative techniques, from poetry to a play. There's some humor, as demonstrated by a cult that worships a pair of shoes. (They actually play an important role in the plot.) The pace is frenzied, with plenty of purple prose.
Full understanding of what the heck is really going on doesn't happen until late in the book, when we learn the actual identities of Wakim and the Prince. Suffice to say that this requires a lengthy description of apocalyptic events that took place long before the story begins.
Some readers are going to find this novel disjointed and overwritten. Others are likely to be swept away by the richness of the author's imagination. I'm leaning in the latter direction.
Roger Zelazny’s been busy this month! His new novel Damnation Alley expands his novella of the same name into an action piece which is exciting enough but ultimately unsatisfying, a sort of postapocalyptic pony express with futuristic vehicles and implausible characters.
Cover of Damnation Alley by Jack Gaughan
The story is set in a relatively near-future USA after a nuclear war which has split it into isolated states within a radiation-ravaged wasteland, the only relatively safe passage through which is a corridor known as Damnation Alley. There are pockets of radiation, giant mutant animals and insects, tornadoes and killer dust storms. The descriptions of these is the book’s real strength, with some of them verging on the genuinely poetic. Our protagonist is Hell Tanner, a former Hell’s Angel who is offered a pardon for his crimes by the State of California, if he’ll deliver a shipment of vaccines to Boston, which has been hit by an outbreak of plague. Of course, this necessitates driving through Damnation Alley, but never fear, Tanner is also driving a super-tough vehicle bristling with weaponry.
The whole thing is almost laughably macho in places, and I say that as someone who really quite likes both cars and adventure stories. Tanner is that implausible archetype, the bad guy who nonetheless somehow has other people’s best interests at heart. However, there’s also some nice contrasts set up between Tanner and the criminal world he inhabits and the much more normal parts of society he encounters on his journey, where people seem to be on the whole generally decent and kind, making Tanner’s casual violence seem all the more out of place.
The book has a lot of problems. Some are clearly the result of padding it out to novel length, with several episodes which go nowhere and add little to the story. The characterisation of everyone aside from Tanner is weak to nonexistent. In particular, the main female character, Cordy, is a frustrating cipher: she is a woman who Tanner essentially abducts, and yet she shows none of the emotions one might expect under the circumstances, while Tanner seemingly comes to think of her as his girlfriend despite neither of them making any moves in that direction.
However, the biggest problem is that there are too many holes in the story for it to stay afloat. Despite the devastation of the land around it, the state of California somehow still has the resources to build giant armoured cars bristling with every kind of weapon from bullets to flamethrowers. Only two human beings are apparently capable of making the trip from California to Boston, which is surprising given the aforementioned level of technology and that there is clearly no shortage of young men with a death wish. Tanner makes it almost to Boston before encountering anyone who makes a serious effort to steal the vaccines, which I also find somewhat implausible. And so on, and so on.
Damnation Alley held my attention for the duration of a train journey and had nicely surreal, well-paced prose in places, but it was just too unbelievable for me to really enjoy it. Two and a half stars.
by Brian Collins
Since he returned to writing some half a dozen years ago, Robert Silverberg has tried to reintroduce himself as a more “serious” writer. This is not to say his rate of output has slowed down in favor of more refined work; if anything the past few years have been the busiest for him since the ‘50s. This year alone we have gotten enough novels from Silverberg that a bit of a catch-up is in order. The first on my plate, Across a Billion Years, hit store shelves a few months ago, from The Dial Press (I believe this is Silverberg’s first book with said publisher), and it seems to have flown under the radar—possibly because there’s no paperback edition, and also it might be aimed at younger readers. The second book we have here, To Live Again, is from Doubleday, and it too is a hardcover original; but unlike Across a Billion Years, To Live Again is a new release, fresh out of the oven.
It’s the 24th century, and humanity has not only spread to other worlds but encountered several intelligent alien races along the way. Tom Rice is a 22-year-old archaeologist on an expedition to find the ruins of a bygone race called the High Ones, who apparently lived a billion years ago (hence the title) but who have since vanished. Whether or not the High Ones have gone extinct is one of the novel’s core mysteries, although Silverberg takes his time raising this question. The novel is told as a series of diary entries, or rather messages Tom sends to his sister Lorie. In a curious but also frustrating move, Lorie is arguably the most interesting character in the novel, yet we never see or hear her, as she’s not only away from the action but stuck in a hospital bed for an indefinite period. Lorie is a telepath, and enough people are “TP” to make up their own faction, although telepathy only works one-way and Tom himself is not a telepath. The one positive surprise Silverberg includes here is finding a way to tie telepathy together with the mystery of the High Ones, but obviously I won’t say how he does it.
As for bad surprises, well…
Even taking into account that Tom is a young adult who also has personal hang-ups (his father wanted him to enter real estate), his treatment of his colleagues is abhorrent in the opening stretch. He dismisses the aliens on the team as mostly “diversity” hires and has a standoffish relationship with Kelly, the female android on the team, whom he more than once compares to a “voluptuous nineteen-year-old.” Why someone of Tom’s age would make such a comparison is befuddling…unless you were really a lecherous man approaching middle age and not a recent college graduate. There are a few other humans here, but the only human woman present is Jan, whom Tom gradually takes a liking to—just not enough to do anything when he sees Leroy, a male colleague, sexually assault Jan near enough that he could have intervened. This happens early in the novel, and I have to admit that Tom’s indifference regarding Jan’s wellbeing, a weakness in character he never really apologizes for, cast a cloud over my enjoyment of the rest of the novel. I kept wondering when the other shoe would drop. That Tom and Jan’s relationship turns romantic despite the former’s callousness only serves to rub salt in the wound. The bright side of all this is that while some of Silverberg’s recent work has bordered on pornographic, Across a Billion Years is relatively tame, almost to the point of being old-fashioned.
Indeed, this feels like a throwback to an older era of SF, even back to those years when Silverberg (and I, for that matter) had not yet picked up a pen or used a typewriter. In broad strokes this is a planetary adventure of the sort that would have been serialized in Astounding circa 1945. We’re excavating alien ruins on Higby V, a distant planet where High Ones artifacts have been supposedly found. During a drunken escapade one of the alien diggers stumbles upon (or rather breaks into) a piece of High Ones technology, something akin to a movie projector, not only showing what the High Ones look like but revealing a clue as to the location of their homeworld. This should sound familiar to most of us, and I suspect Silverberg knows this too, because this novel’s biggest problem and biggest asset is how it uses perspective. We’re stuck with Tom as he sends messages to Lorie, recounting events in perhaps more detail than he has to, knowing in advance that his sister won’t receive these messages until after the fact. As with a disconcerting number of Silverberg protagonists, Tom can be annoying, and honestly quite bigoted; and since he is the perspective character we’re never relieved of his oh-so-interesting remarks. But, and I will give Silverberg this, he does put a twist on the epistolary format very late in the novel, which does the miraculous thing of making you reevaluate what you had been reading up to this point.
In other words, this is not an exceptional novel, but it does have its points of interest, and with the exception of an early scene and its ramifications (or lack thereof), nothing here made me want to throw my copy at a nearby wall. For the most part this is inoffensive—possibly even decent. Three stars.
Those who want a bit more sex with their science fiction can do worse than this one, which looks to be the fourth (or maybe fifth—I’ve lost count) Silverberg novel of 1969. It’s the near-ish future, and the good news is that for those with enough money, death is not necessarily the end. Courtesy of the Scheffing Institute, a person can have their memories stored periodically, making copies or “personae” of themselves, which can be transplanted to the brain of a living host. The host and the persona will cooperate, lest the latter erase the former’s personality and become a “dybbuk,” using the host’s body as a flesh puppet.
The infamous businessman Paul Kaufmann has recently died, with his persona waiting to be claimed. Paul’s nephew, Mark, and Mark’s 16-year-old daughter Risa each see themselves as ideal candidates for Paul’s persona, but one of the rules at the Institute is that close family members can’t host each other’s personae: the implications of, for example, a teen girl hosting her grandfather’s persona, would be…concerning.
While we’re on the lovely topic of incest, let’s talk more about Risa, who must be one of the thorniest of all Silverberg characters, which as you know is a tall order, not helped by the fact that Silverberg describes, in almost poetic detail, every curve of this teen girl’s nude body—and she does strut around naked a surprising amount of the time. Risa is such a depraved individual, despite her age, that she at one point tries seducing an older male cousin and rather openly has an Electra complex (they even mention it by name), which Mark is understandably disturbed by—with the implication being that Mark has lustful thoughts about his own daughter. This is the second Silverberg novel I’ve read in two months to involve incest, which worries me.
The only other major female character is Elena, Mark’s mistress, whom Risa sees as a rival for her father’s affections and who (predictably) starts conspiring against Mark. Not content to ogle at just 16-year-olds, Silverberg also takes to describing the nuances of Elena’s body in wearying fashion, which does lead me to wonder if he was working the typewriter one-handed for certain passages. It’s a shame, because there’s an intriguing subplot in which Risa acquires her first persona, a young woman named Tandy who had died in a skiing accident—or so the official record claims. Tandy, or rather the persona of Tandy, recorded a couple months prior to her death, suspects foul play. Of the women mentioned, Tandy is the least embarrassingly written, but then she is only tangentially related to the plot and, what with not having a physical body, Silverberg is only able to ogle at her so much.
I’ve not even mentioned John Roditis and his underling Charles Noyles, business rivals of Mark’s who are clamoring for Paul’s persona. You may notice that this novel has more moving parts than Across a Billion Years, and certainly it’s the more ambitious of the two, the problem being that its shortcomings are all the more disappointing for it. Silverberg raises questions that he can barely be bothered with answering, and he alludes to things that remain mostly unrevealed. Much of To Live Again is shrouded in speculation, which is to say it uses speculation as a night-black cloak to cover things we sadly never get to see.
Another rule at the Institute is that a persona has to be of the same gender as its host, a rule that characters mostly write off as bogus. And indeed why not? Why should a male host and female persona not be able to coexist? Or the other way around. The prohibition has to do with transsexualism, which is certainly uncharted water for the most part. There has been very little science fiction written about transsexualism or transvestism—the possibility of blurring and even crossing gender lines. Unfortunately the novel does little with the ideas it presents. There are multiple references to religion and mythology (the word “dybbuk” refers to an evil spirit in Jewish mythology), including lines taken from the Tibetan Book of the Dead. There’s a minor subplot about white Californians appropriating Buddhist practices, in connection with the Institute, but this is so tangential that the reader can easily forget about it.
Finally, I want to mention that I was reminded eerily of another novel that came out this year, Philip K. Dick’s masterful and deranged Ubik, which I have to think Silverberg could not have known about when he was writing To Live Again. Both take cues from the Buddhist conception of reincarnation, although in Dick’s novel people who have died are kept in a state of suspended animation called “half-life,” whereas Silverberg’s characters die the full death, or “discorporate,” only that their personalities (up to a point) are kept intact. Not to make comparisons, but given that Silverberg’s novel is longer than Dick’s I have to say he does a fair bit less with the shared material. Of course, these are both talented writers, who at their best do very fine work indeed. Silverberg has become a major writer, but sadly he is not firing on all cylinders with either of the novels I’ve covered.
This book made me think of a Bulwer-Lytton novel for the Space Age.
This book could make Damon Knight take back everything he said about van Vogt.
This book made me long for the complexity of Commander Cody shorts.
This book’s style is so out of date that I think it fell out of the TARDIS.
This book wishes it had the character depth of a Lin Carter work.
And yet, I can't hate it the way I hated Light A Last Candle. That book was one mass of forgettable hate, but The Glass Cage is not hateful. It's incompetent at every turn, from line editing to plot development (I really don't know how it got the hardcover copy I received), but the overall effect is an oral record of a children's game.
There's this guy, Stephen, he’s twenty! He's a neophyte to the priests of the computer, TAL! It keeps life going in the city beneath its glass dome! Stephen is a perfect physical specimen, and his only flaw is being too curious about things. But that's because he’s secretly a spy for the Rebellion outside the glass dome!
The sentences are short and rarely have the benefit of internal punctuation. The characters are, generally, exactly how they appear — wicked characters with their close-together eyes, good characters with their strong jaws, straightforward manner, and perfect blonde hair. If this is chosen for adaptation, Tommy Kirk is made for the lead part.
The treatment of nuclear power seems to come from another time, where the leaders of interstellar development are in the Baltimore Gun Club rather than NASA. The giant computer, TAL, is attached to a nuclear bomb, to go off at a certain date, destroying the whole glass dome and the people within! No need to worry, though, Stephen and his various Rebellion people get most everyone out in time, except for the bad guy head priest of TAL, who is determined to die with his machine. Stephen and the gangster leader of the in-Dome Rebellion try to get him out, but to no avail! The nuclear bomb is about to go off, so the two of them hop on their air-sled, turn it skyward, and smash through the glass dome, just as the nuclear bomb goes off! Luckily, the nuclear bomb just pushes them a few miles away from the blast, where they are safe and unharmed.
One point of the book that is surprisingly forward-thinking is its treatment of one of the main characters being severely disabled. Despite being paralyzed from the neck down, he is a leader of the Rebellion, commanding through his immense psychic ability. But that cannot keep me from giving it…
Two stars
[A bit of a downer note to leave on, but at least there's some fine stuff upstream. See you next month, tiger!]
The streets of West Germany are currently plastered with campaign posters, because a federal election, the sixth since 1949, will happen on September 28.
This campaign poster by the conservative CDU reminds us that the chancellor is important.This SPD campaign poster features foreign secretary and vice chancellor Willy Brandt and asks people to vote for him so we can live in peace tomorrow.This SPD campaign poster features the popular secretary of the economy Karl Schiller, who promises a stable economy and secure jobs.This SPD campaign poster features social democratic floor leader Helmut Schmidt who promises to create a modern Germany with vigour and energy.The liberal party FDP forgoes the usual black and white headshot and promises to abolish antiquated customs and laws.
The posters are eerily similar across parties, usually consisting of a party logo, a slogan in Helvetica typeface and a black and white photo of a candidate. Hereby, the conservative CDU mainly points out that they provide the current chancellor Kurt Georg Kiesinger and that he does a good job (which is debatable).
This SPD campaign poster features images of the modern West Germany they want to create and also reminds voters that the SPD "has the right men".
The SPD, meanwhile, has made "For a modern Germany" the focal point of their campaign, though the tagline "We have the right men" made quite a few woman voters grumpy. In response, the SPD launched a campaign where women – both celebrities like actress Inge Meysel and ordinary citizens like Johanna Lammers, miner's wife from Castrop-Rauxel – explain why they vote SPD.
Johanna Lammers, miner's wife from Castrop-Rauxel, poses with her sewing machine in this SPD campaign flyer and praises secretary of the economy Karfl Schiller for preserving mining jobs.Popular actress Inge Meysel explains why she votes SPD in this campaign flyer.
In general, it is notable that the SPD enlisted several celebrities, including writers Günther Grass, Siegfried Lenz and Heinrich Böll, actors Romy Schneider, Götz George, Marianne Hoppe, Sabine Sinjen, Inge Meysel, Horst Frank and Horst Tappert, TV personalities Peter Frankenfeld and Hans-Joachim Kuhlenkampf, directors Victor de Kowa and Wolfgang Menge and singer Katja Ebstein, to campaign for them, something that is common in the US, but almost unheard of in West Germany.
This SPD campaign poster lists all the celebrities who endorse the SPD.
A Small Step
But whatever the outcome of the September 28 election, it's very likely that the current great coalition of the conservative CDU and the social-democratic SPD will not continue.
Due to its large majority, the great coalition actually got a lot done in its three years in office, for better or for worse. Under "for worse", most people would classify the controversial and unpopular emergency powers act, which passed last year – in spite of massive protests.
On the positive side, there is the Great Reform of the Criminal Code, which passed in June and took effect on September 1, which got rid of outdated laws (many of which dated back to the Third Reich or even the Second German Empire) and brought particularly morality related offences more in line with our modern age.
Among other things, adultery is no longer a criminal offence in West Germany. The so-called "Kuppelei" paragraph, which under the guise of combating prostitution forbade landlords from renting apartments and hotels from renting rooms to unmarried couples, and prevented parents from allowing their adult children's boyfriend or girlfriend to sleep over, has been significantly modified.
But most importantly, homosexual relationships between men have been decriminalised, at least if both participants are over twenty-one and there is no employment or service relationship between them. Homosexual prostitution remains illegal.
These are small steps forward, especially since most of the legal limitations applied to homosexual relationships between men do not apply to heterosexual relationships or relationships between women. But they are important steps, because every year between two thousand and three thousand men are tried and convicted for consensual homosexual relationships on the basis of a law dating back to the Second German Empire and significantly tightened by the Nazis.
The end of WWII is often viewed as a liberation, but for homosexual men incarcerated by the Nazis it was anything but, for they remained in prison, while other victims of Nazi persecution were set free. And while the Federal Republic of Germany distanced itself from the Third Reich, it displayed the same zeal in persecuting homosexual men. In 1950, the public prosecution of Frankfurt on Main dragged some 170 men into court on homosexuality charges, based on the questionable statements made by a nineteen-year-old male prostitute named Otto Blankenstein, later revealed to be a notorious liar. Many of the accused were found guilty and jailed, six men committed suicide, others lost their jobs or were forced to flee Germany.
Otto Blankenstein, the nineteen-year-old male prostitute who set off an unprecedented persecution of homosexual men in Frankfurt on Main in 1950, when he ratted out his clients to save himself from prison.
In the light of events such as those that happened in Frankfurt nineteen years ago, the decriminalisation of homosexual relationships between consenting adults is an important step forward. And indeed, the immediate effect of the new law was not the sudden eruption of homosexual orgies in West German streets that conservatives feared but that many men who had been convicted under the old law were set free, because there was no reason to keep them in jail any longer.
More Treasures from the Pulps
But while old and outdated laws are best left behind, older fiction is often ripe for rediscovery. Particularly the pulp magazines of thirty to forty years ago contain many hidden gems and secret treasures just begging to be rediscovered by a new generation of readers. And thanks to the twin success of Lancer's Conan reprints and the Ballantine paperback editions of The Lord of the Rings, many other fantasy works from the first half of the century are coming back into print.
I recently got my hands on two paperbacks reprinting some fantasy gems that until recently could only be found in the crumbling pages of thirty to forty year old copies of Weird Tales.
The Last King of the Picts: Bran Mak Morn by Robert E. Howard
cover by Frank Frazetta
Nowadays, Robert E. Howard is mainly remembered as the father of what Fritz Leiber called sword and sorcery. However, Howard was also fascinated by history and wrote a lot of historical fiction, with or without fantastic elements. The Bran Mak Morn stories sit on the boundary between fantasy and history. The titular hero is the king of the Picts, a native tribe living in Scotland in ancient times.
Howard was clearly fascinated by the Picts, because they appear throughout his work. The best friend and frequent saviour of Kull of Atlantis is a Pictish warrior named Brule the Spearslayer. The Picts also appear in two Conan stories, "Beyond the Black River" and "The Treasure of Tranicos", where they are portrayed as fierce warriors and sworn enemies of Conan's people, the Cimmerians.
The Bran Mak Morn stories take the Picts out of fantasy and into history, though it must be noted that Howard's Picts bear scant resemblance to what little we know about the actual ancient inhabitants of Scotland. Mostly set in Roman Britain during the second or third century AD, the stories recount the conflict between the technologically superior Roman colonisers and the Picts, who at this point in their history have devolved into Neanderthal-like primitives. Their king Bran Mak Morn knows that his people are doomed, but he is not willing to go down without a fight.
Cororuc is about to meet an unpleasant fate in "The Lost Race" by Robert E. Howard-
Though the first story in this collection, "The Lost Race", does not feature Bran Mak Morn at all, but instead follows Cororuc, a traveller in Roman Britain, who is captured by Picts and taken to their underground lair. The Picts are described as diminutive – in Howard's time some historians believed they were pygmies – and the likely source of legends about dwarves and little people. They are quite hostile and want to burn Cororuc at the stake – after a history lesson delivered by their chief. But Cororuc's life is spared due to the intercession of a werewolf he'd saved earlier.
"The Lost Race" is one of Robert E. Howard's earliest stories, published in the January 1927 issue of Weird Tales, when Howard was only twenty-one, and is clearly the work of a beginning writer. Three stars.
Bran Mak Morn does appear in "Men of the Shadows", though once again the protagonist is another character, a Norseman who became a Roman citizen and legionnaire. He's part of a squad sent north of Hadrian's Wall on a mysterious mission. The legionnaires are slaughtered in a series of battles with the Picts, until only a handful remain. The survivors try to make it back to safety beyond Hadrian's Wall, but are picked off one by one, until there is only a single survivor who is captured and brought before Bran Mak Morn himself. The Picts want to kill him, but Bran spares his life and also reveals the reason why the legionnaires were sent into Pictish territory, namely because a wealthy Roman had taken a liking to Bran's sister and wanted to take her for his own. Bran's refusal to kill the legionnaire leads to a staring contest between Bran and a Pictish wizard upset that Bran is forgetting the old ways. Bran wins the contest, whereupon the wizard launches into a lengthy explanation of the history of the Picts and also prophesizes the fall of the Roman Empire.
This story was never published in Howard's lifetime and it's easy to see why. It's a disjointed mess and Howard forgets both the plot and even the protagonist, once the wizard launches into the extended history of the Picts. We never even learn what happened to the legionnaire. Perhaps he was bored to death by the lecturing wizard. Two stars.
A ghostly Kull appears on the battlefield in the interior art for "Kings of the Night".
In "Kings of the Night", Bran Mak Morn is preparing for battle against a Roman legion marching on his land. Bran's Picts have joined forces with Gaels and Britons, but Bran also needs to persuade a group of Norsemen to join the battle. However, their chief has been killed and the Norsemen refuse to fight until they find a new leader. So the Pictish wizard Gonar casts a spell and conjures up none other than Kull of Atlantis, brought forward through time. Kull is understandably confused and mistakes Bran for his Pictish friend Brule the Spearslayer, implying that Bran is a descendent of Brule. However, he also agrees to lead the Norsemen into battle. But is the victory worth the price in blood?
First published in the November 1930 issue of Weird Tales, this is a highly enjoyable story and the return of Kull of Atlantis is most welcome, though it's interesting that Bran outbroods even the traditionally broody Kull. Four stars.
Bran Mak Morn confronts the witch Atla who wants his body in "Worms of the Earth".
"Worms of the Earth" starts with an incredibly visceral and brutal crucifixion scene. A Pict is executed for killing a Roman merchant who'd swindled him. Presiding over the execution is Titus Sulla, Roman governor of Eboracum (nowadays known better by its British name York), as well as a Pictish emissary. Unbeknownst to the arrogant Sulla, this emissary is none other than Bran Mak Morn in disguise.
Infuriated by the way the Roman colonisers treat his people. Bran vows revenge upon Titus Sulla and he is willing to go to great lengths to get it. And so against the warnings of the wizard Gonar, Bran enlists the aid of the titular worms, the remnants of a pre-human civilisation who may be descendants of the Serpent Men from the Kull stories. But in order to find the worms, Bran first has to consult the witch Atla, who is not entirely human herself, and whose price is nothing less than Bran's virtue. So Bran leans back and thinks of the Picts, while Atla has her way with him.
Bran finally locates the worms and they agree to help him get his revenge on Sulla. But things don't go the way Bran expects…
Published in the November 1932 issue of Weird Tales, this is a great story, which perfectly balances sword and sorcery, history and horror. "Worms of the Earth" is the highlight of this collection and worth the price of admission alone. Five stars.
"The Night of the Wolf" is another story which remained unpublished during Howard's lifetime. Set during Arthurian times, it's the tale of Cormac Mac Art, an Irish reiver who gets embroiled in a conflict between Vikings and Picts in the Shetland Islands, where Cormac tries to negotiate the release of an important prisoner.
"The Night of the Wolf" is a well written story full of action and excitement, but I'm not quite sure why it was included in this collection, because it is not a Bran Mak Morn story, even though the Picts appear. Four stars.
The statue of Bran Mak Morn gloomily looks on, as the kidnapped Irish maiden Moira is about the escape a forced marriage by the only means she can.
Bran Mak Morn does appear in "The Dark Man", at least after a fashion — because the story is set in the ninth century during the Viking invasion of Ireland, i.e. at a time when Bran is long dead. Instead, he appears in the form of a statue that is worshipped by the surviving descendants of the Picts.
Our hero is an Irish outlaw named Turlogh Dubh O'Brien who's on a mission to rescue his childhood sweetheart Moira, daughter of an Irish chieftain, who was kidnapped by Vikings. Turlogh comes across the statue of Bran and decides to take it along. He crashes the forced wedding of Moira to the Viking chief Thorfel and takes bloody vengeance. The statue of Bran, the titular dark man, comes in handy as well, for where Bran goes, or rather his statue goes, the Picts are not far behind and they are still formidable warriors.
First published in the December 1931 issue of Weird Tales, "The Dark Man" is another fine historical adventure story and unlike "The Night of the Wolf", it has at least some connection to Bran Mak Morn, albeit rather tenuously. Four stars.
I have to admit that I was very eager to finally get my hands on Robert E. Howard's Bran Mak Morn stories. Though I have no Scottish ancestry, I recognise the parallels between Bran and his Picts struggling against Roman rule and the history of my own homeland. For just like the historical Picts, my own ancestors, the Germanic tribes of Northern Germany, managed to kick the Romans out of North Germany and drive them back beyond the Limes Germanicus in the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest in 9 AD.
Postcard of the Hermann Monument near Detmold, which reminds us that Arminius knocked the Romans out of their sandals somewhere around here.
The Battle of the Teutoburg Forest is extremely important to German history. The so-called Hermann Monument near Detmold, a 53 meter tall statue of the Cherusci chieftain Arminius a.k.a. Hermann, is a popular destination for school trips and much beloved. Whenever I'm in the area, I always pay a visit to good old Arminius, even if the statue is not even remotely accurate and the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest most likely did not take place anywhere near Detmold. Archaeologists are still looking for the actual location of the battle
Arminius is to the Germans what the Gaul leader Vercingetorix is to the French, a national hero who fought back against the arrogant Roman invaders. Unlike Vercingetorix, Arminius was victorious and lived to tell the tale. And just like the fictional Bran Mak Morn, Arminius was driven by vengeance, for according to legend he was an officer in the Roman army who turned against his former allies, when the Romans paraded his pregnant wife Thusnelda naked through the streets of Rome in triumph. The veracity of the tale of Thusnelda is debatable, but it is a compelling story and always made me sympathise with Arminius. Bran's story and motivation, though entirely fictional, are just as compelling and I'm sure that Arminius and Bran would find a lot to talk about over a jug of ale or mead.
For all that, the actual collection is a little bit of a letdown. Robert E. Howard just didn't write very many stories about Bran Mak Morn, so Dell topped off the collection with unpublished stories and fragments, poems, juvenilia and vaguely related stories that feature the Picts.
Nonetheless, "Worms of the Earth" is a top tier Howard story and most of the other stories are at the very least entertaining, even if Bran isn't actually in them.
Four stars.
Women's Lib, Sword and Sorcery Style: Jirel of Joiry by C.L. Moore
The yellowing pages of Weird Tales contain treasures beyond the stories of Robert E. Howard and H.P. Lovecraft, whose work Arkham House is doing a good job of keeping in print. One of those treasures that I was extremely excited to get my hands on are the stories C.L. Moore wrote about the medieval French swordswoman Jirel of Joiry. At last the stories are available again for the first time in more than thirty years.
Jirel kisses the Black God in Margaret Brundage's cover art for the October 1934 issue of Weird Tales.
"Black God's Kiss" first appeared in the October 1934 issue of Weird Tales and introduced Jirel of Joiry to the world. The story opens with the iconic and much imitated scene of the warlord Guillaume conquering Castle Joiry. The captured lord of the castle is brought before Guillaume in full armour. When Guillaume orders his captive's helmet removed, the Lord of Castle Joiry is revealed to be a lady, the red-haired firebrand Jirel. Guillaume is quite delighted by this discovery and forces a kiss on Jirel. Jirel is considerably less delighted and tries to bite his throat out.
The revealing of Jirel's gender is an iconic scene and remains impactful even thirty-five years later. I can only imagine how female readers in 1934 reacted to this revelation, even if the surprise was spoiled both by Weird Tales cover artist Margaret Brundage and interior artist H.R. Hammond.
H.R. Hammond's interior art for "Black God's Kiss" sadly spoils the revelation of Jirel's gender.
For her troubles, Jirel is thrown into her own dungeon, but she quickly escapes, plotting revenge against the overbearing Guillaume. She has no illusions about what Guillaume will do to her, namely rape her and then either kill her or sell her into slavery. So she goes to see Father Gervase, the resident priest of Castle Joiry, to ask for his help and forgiveness. For in order to avenge herself on Guillaume, Jirel is willing to descend into hell itself. And luckily, there happens to be a passage to the underworld deep beneath the foundations of Castle Joiry. It's interesting how much this scene mirrors the scene in "Worms of the Earth" where Bran Mak Morn plots revenge against Titus Sulla. Both Bran and Jirel are willing to do whatever it takes, even if it means selling their soul (and in Bran's case, his body) and enlisting demonic aid. And in both cases, their spiritual advisors, respectively Gonar or Gervase, strongly advice against this course of action, noting that some weapons are too terrible to use.
Like Bran, however, Jirel is determined and so she descends into the underworld beneath the castle. The bulk of the story is given over to Jirel's journey through the underworld and the fantastic things she encounters there. It is notable that even though Jirel wears a crucifix which she has to discard in order to enter the underworld and has a theological argument with a Catholic priest earlier in the story, the dreamlike land underneath Castle Joiry does not resemble the traditional Christian depictions of hell in the slightest—it is much stranger.
Jirel finally finds the titular black god in a temple in the middle of a lake of fallen stars and begs him to give her a weapon against Guillaume. The black gods grants her this wish, but just like Bran Mak Morn in "Worms of the Earth", Jirel realises that the revenge she gets isn't what she wanted after all.
This is an amazing story that stands shoulder to shoulder with the best the sword and sorcery genre has to offer. Five stars.
Only two months later, in the December 1934 issue, Weird Tales published the sequel to "Black God's Kiss" entitled "Black God's Shadow". Jirel is still haunted by the events of the previous story. She's having trouble sleeping, the memories of Guillaume forcing a kiss on her keep resurfacing and by night, Jirel hears Guillaume's voice, begging her to save his soul from hell.
Jirel's feelings towards Guillaume are very conflicted. On the one hand, he was an overbearing pig who assaulted her, but on the other hand Jirel was also attracted to him. So she decides to descend into the underworld once more to save Guillaume's soul. But in doing so, Jirel will not only have to fight the black god, but also her own conflicted emotions and come to terms with what happened to her.
This story is more quiet and philosophical than its predecessor and the battles Jirel fights are purely in her mind. From a psychological standpoint, this story is fascinating, because Jirel's feelings and reactions mirror those of women who have been sexually assaulted or raped, suggesting that Guillaume did more than merely steal a kiss.
An unusual but excellent story. Five stars.
Not Jirel and Jarisme, but Margaret Brundage's cover art for "Avenger from Atlantis" by Edmond Hamilton.
"Jirel Meets Magic" first appeared in the July 1935 issue of Weird Tales. The title is rather weak, especially since Jirel already encountered more than her share of magic in her first two adventures.
The story opens with Jirel leading the charge against a castle, whence the evil wizard Giraud has fled. Once again, the hotblooded Jirel is out for vengeance, because Giraud had ambushed and killed some of her men. However, as Jirel and her men comb the castle, Giraud is nowhere to be found. Bloody footprints lead to a window, which doubles as a portal into a fantastic world. Undeterred, Jirel climbs through the window in pursuit of Giraud and quickly finds herself tangling not just with the wizard, but also with his patroness, the sorceress Jarisme.
This story establishes what will become a pattern with the Jirel of Joiry stories, namely that Jirel keeps venturing into fantastic dream landscapes. "Jirel Meets Magic" is not quite as dark as the Black God duology, but still a great story. Five stars.
Not Jirel either, but a strikingly erotic cover for a Seabury Quinn story, courtesy of Margaret Brundage.
"The Dark Land" opens with Jirel lying in bed in her castle, mortally wounded in battle. Father Gervase is called in to give her the last rites, when Jirel abruptly vanishes. When she comes to, she finds herself in yet another fantastic dreamland called Romne. Its king Pav informs Jirel that he saved her from death, because he wants her to be his bride. Jirel has other ideas, especially once she learns what happens to Pav's discarded wives…
Jirel faces off against Pav in the interior art for "The Dark Land"
Published in the January 1936 issue of Weird Tales, this is a good story, but not quite as strong as the previous tales. Four stars.
"Hellsgarde" opens with Jirel on her warhorse outside the haunted castle of Hellsgarde. The castle, we learn, has been shunned and abandoned for two hundred years, ever since its previous lord stole a mysterious treasure and was tortured to death by those eager to take that treasure for themselves.
Jirel has come to Hellsgarde for just this treasure, though she doesn't want it for herself. No, a villainous nobleman named Guy of Garlot has taken several of Jirel's men hostage and demands the treasure of Hellsgarde as ransom.
Jirel faces the ghosts haunting the Castle of Hellsgarde
As the previous stories have shown, Jirel is perfectly willing to descend into hell itself and so she enters the haunted castle to face of the horrors awaiting her within. As for Guy of Garlot, he fares about as well as all overbearing men who try to force Jirel to do something against her will.
First published in the April 1939 issue of Weird Tales, "Hellsgarde" is a very much a haunted house story, but what a haunted house story it is. Five stars.
Reading the Jirel of Joiry stories in the year of the lord 1969, it's hard to image that these stories are already more than thirty years old, because they feel so very modern, both with regard to Jirel's adventures in psychedelic dreamlands and her conflicts with overbearing men which many a modern feminist will sympathise with. Jirel is very much a heroine for the 1960s, a strong woman willing to brave even hell itself to get what she wants.
C.L. Moore only ever wrote six stories about Jirel of Joiry (one of which, a story featuring Jirel and Moore's interplanetary outlaw Northwest Smith, is not included in this collection) and sadly retired from writing altogether after the untimely death of her husband Henry Kuttner eleven years ago. However, the Jirel stories are so good that I hope that Moore will eventually return to writing and revisit this groundbreaking character.
If you are looking for the two-fisted adventures of Conan or the hijinks of Fafhrd and Gray Mouser, this collection is very much not that. Jirel's adventures are internal conflicts given form in her journey through dreamlike and often nightmarish landscapes. Nonetheless, these stories are among the best the sword and sorcery genre has to offer. Five stars.
My local rag, The Escondido Times-Advocate, isn't much compared to, say, The Los Angeles Times. But every so often, they are worth the subscription fee (beyond the TV listings and the funnies). Take this article, for instance, which might well be at home in a Willy Ley column:
Basically, CalTech has a new timepiece with more precision, accurate to the hundredth of a second, so that when it is used in conjunction with a seismometer, earthquakes can be better mapped. More excitingly, the new clock weighs just eight pounds—less than a tenth that of the hundred-pound monster it replaces.
Transistors have made it to geology.
We hear all about small computers and more efficient satellites, but this story really drives home just how quickly the miniaturization revolution is diffusing to all walks of life. Is a computerized pocket slide rule or a Dick Tracy phone that far off?
Making waves
by Gray Morrow
A lot has happened this year at the old gray lady of science fiction, Galaxy. They changed editors. They lost their science columnist. And as we shall see from the latest issue, things are starting to change, ever so slightly.
Tomorrow Cum Laude, by Hayden Howard
by Jack Gaughan
The revolution does not begin with this piece, a direct sequel to "Kendy's World", which came out at the end of last year. If you'll recall, Kendy was a boy during the National Emergency, a time of civil and racial strife that rocked the nation into a semi-permanent police state. Kendy was recruited by a Mr. Smith, who gave him a scholarship at National University—which turned out to be a training camp for spies. "Tomorrow Cum Laude" details Kendy's first mission.
He is sent to the University of Southern California to take pictures of a biological centrifuge. Why he is sent on a domestic espionage mission when he has been trained in Russian is never explicitly stated. Moreover, the overarching mystery remains: why did the first cosmonaut to Mars chicken out after finding…something…on Phobos, and why are the Soviets building a secret base on the Moon? Did they find a monolith? Two?
All of this is background to Kendy's personal story, his slow, jerky maturation into adulthood. His growing feelings for his accidental roommate, the beautiful woman, Amani, from the southern Californian all Black city-state of Nairobi. His conflicted loyalties to the government of the United States.
Aside from an overuse of the word "amble" (hint: try sprinkling in a "saunter" or two), it's not a bad story, actually. It reads a bit like a juvenile except the subject matter is rather deep, and at one point, Kendy describes himself as, frankly, horny.
I'm enjoying this series more than his first one, about the Esks.
Three stars.
Truly Human, by Damon Knight
Here is where the change becomes noticeable. Knight, who predates but has embraced the New Wave, offers up this interesting piece about triune aliens, who can only think as trios. They abduct three humans to see if they can be adapted to their way of thought. The test is, unfortunately, not altogether scientific.
The beginning and end are the most interesting bits, creatively rendered. The middle part is wanly droll, though effectively conveyed.
Three stars.
The God of Cool, by J. W. Schutz
A smuggler is shot by fellow gang members on the steps of the hospital. As he had willed his body to the organ banks, he finds life after death in a myriad of don-ee bodies. There are three wrinkles:
The recipients of his organs end up being members of his gang;
The smuggler retains a degree of consciousness in his frozen state; and,
The smuggler retains a degree of control over his scattered parts…
The setup sounds a little silly, but I actually found it quite an effective story. It's not played for silly, as it might have been in F&SF, and it doesn't try to explain the psi in scientific terms, as might have happened if it had shown up in Analog. It sure wouldn't work in Niven's universe as detailed in "The Organleggers" and "Slowboat Cargo", though!
Cytheron is a young being on the cusp of adulthood. He fears maturity, afraid to lose his identity in the adult shared mind, so he flees to the edge of a quasar. There, he believes he is free from pursuit as no information can leave the gravitational warping of the dead star/collection of stars. But he is also trapped—and for him to be freed will require a minor supernova, one which might have an effect on a neighboring star system with a familiar number of planets.
It's a mildly cute story, but I am generally averse to Catastrophism in my science fiction. The universe seems to work by general rules; our Sun is not unique. In any event, the piece feels like a veneer of fiction on a science article Shaw happened to read recently, sort of how Niven's "Neutron Star" is based on an Asimov science fact article (I can't remember when it came out—probably '64 or '65).
Yet another tale of John Grimes, this one from early in his career when he was a Lieutenant in command of a tiny courier ship. It is, in fact, the direct sequel to "The Minus Effect", which came out just two months ago. Is a fix-up novel in the works?
In this tale, the exalted passenger isn't a chef-cum-assassin, but rather an amiable robot on a mission—to lead a mechanical movement that places humans on the bottom of the command chain for a change. Luckily for Grimes, not all computers think alike.
As always, pleasant but not particularly memorable. Three stars.
Ersalz's Rule, by George C. Willick
by Jack Gaughan
Two aliens have been playing a competitive sport for the last forty years. Their playing pieces are one human being each, born at the same time. The winner of the game is the one whose human survives longer.
At first, it seems one alien has all the advantages: his human can do no wrong, suffer no lasting malaise. He is, however, bored and reckless. The other alien's piece is a slob whom the breaks never favor. These circumstances lead to the rare invocation of Ersalz's Rule, which affords the possibility of the two pieces switching places. It's a Hail Mary gambit, but it's all the player's got at this point.
The problem with this tale, aside from its heavy handed clunkiness, is that everything is arbitrary. The rules of the game are introduced such that there are no real stakes, and the ending is just kind of stupid.
Two stars.
Take the B Train, by Ernest Taves
by Jack Gaughan
On a train trip through France with his distant wife, a fellow discovers that his garage opener doesn't just trigger his door—it also swaps out his spouse with parallel universe versions of herself. Investigating further, the man determines that the gizmo does a lot more than just that, and he ends up hip-deep in a temporal, spatial, and emotional trip from which he may never return.
This would have been a fantastic setup for a stellar novel, perhaps by Ted White. As it is, I still enjoyed the romantic and fulsome writing of the the piece. I also appreciated the protagonist's mixed feelings toward the various might-have-been marital partners. Taves never does explain how how our hero acquired the device, though there are hints.
Four stars, but a bit of a missed opportunity.
For Your Information (Galaxy Magazine, October 1969), by Willy Ley
At the beginning of the century, there were just 92 "natural" elements. Humanity has added 12 to the roster by dint of atom-smashing effort. Ley talks about them and provides tables describing their stability (or lack thereof).
Asimov would have done it better (though we might not have gotten tables in F&SF). Three stars.
Stella, by Dannie Plachta
A lonely man, perhaps one of the last, is sitting on the frozen surface of his world, watching as The Last Star rises. He is alone, as his estranged wife has sought shelter and warmth underground. Only a surgically implanted broadcast power receiver protects him from the elements.
Then Stella arrives on a dot of blue flame. She is invisible, but she describes herself as desirable, and her voice and touch certainly indicate that she is. When she begs the man for his receiver, he finds he cannot resist her entreaty, though it means his death.
It's all very unclear and metaphorical, and I suspect if I knew what Plachtas was trying to say, I might like it less than I did. Nevertheless, I found it moving. Maybe it's a Rorschach Test of a story and it hit me at the right time.
This was supposed to be the final installment of Dune Messiah, but the editor said he had just too much good stuff to fill the magazine. Hence Part 4 rather than Part Ultimate. Of course, having trudged through the prior three bits, I was not looking forward to yet another slog.
I was pleasantly surprised. Oh, it's still a series of conversations. Sure, not a whole lot happens. But we do have an interesting situation set up and then resolved: Hayt, the resurrected ghola of Duncan Idaho, is mesmerized by Bijaz the Tleilaxi dwarf and given a frightful compulsion. The tension of Part 4 is how this episode will play out, and Herbert manages it reasonably well.
Sure, there is way too much time spent on the now eyeless Paul and his frightening visions. Yes, I could give two figs about Chani, Paul's true love, destined to die for the last two installments. True, everything in the last 150 pages could probably be compressed to 50, and I'm still not sure if the payoff will be worth it.
That said, I was not disposed to skim, as had happened in each of the prior sections. For that, Frank Herbert, you get…
Three stars.
Aftershocks
Thus, nothing Earth-shattering. Nevertheless, there's a certain gestalt to this issue that feels a bit fresher than prior ones—even though almost half of the issue is devoted to continued serials! Maybe it's because those authors are finally turning in better work than they have in a while.
Perhaps we are finally witnessing a moment of change for this fading pillar of SFnal fiction. It would be pretty neat to see Galaxy transform itself into a leading magazine again.
Stay tuned!
Hopefully, the magazine will fare better than this Ocotillo Wells home that got damaged in last April's quake…
1967’s The Good, the Bad and the Ugly was an unforgettable experience for anyone who saw the film in the theatres. Sergio Leone’s towering Western adventure was one of the most thrilling experiences imaginable, with an astonishing level of craft in cinematography, score, acting, and, of course, the brilliant use of the wide screen.
Under Leone’s towering craftsmanship, Good Bad Ugly was an operatic exploration of betrayal, greed, and anger while also playing with the classic motifs of the tradition of the Western film, with its explorations of frontier justice, the impacts of the Civil War, and – perhaps most famously – with the idea of the lonely man without a name as a key protagonist.
Yes, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly has been one of my all-time favorite films since I first saw it.
Sergio Leoone’s new film, Once Upon a Time in the West, is even better. This might just be my favorite film of the entire 1960s.
I was able to catch West on a quick second run at a local Seattle theatre after a limited release in 1968. And I’m happy to report that everything I loved about Good Bad Ugly is even better in West. The watch was an overwhelming experience for me, one which exists perfectly as both its own work of art and a smart postmodern take on the Western genre itself.
Let’s start with the acting here, because Ugly was the movie which really catapulted the old TV star Clint Eastwood into real stardom. West doesn’t feature Eastwood. But just as Ugly included luminary Western actors Lee Van Cleef and Eli Wallach in roles which emphasized their strongest qualities, West does so with some even more iconic actors.
Perhaps you know the work of some of the leads in this film. It stars leading men like Henry Fonda and Jason Robards in key roles. Charles Bronson, star of so many action films these days, is a brilliant antihero in this film. Three actors appear in the opening sequence who you probably know from classic Westerns: Jack Elam, Woody Strode and Al Mulock.
These actors all add a real heft and energy to the film and help to add to the themes Leone develops here.
But the most important character in the film isn’t one of the male characters. The most important character is a woman: Claudia Cardinale, playing Jill, is the character who truly evolves the most in the film and who drives the societal changes which are so much of what Leone and team are delivering.
Jill is a former New Orleans sex worker, now a wife and mother who moves to the small Arizona town of Sweetwater in the late 1800s. We first meet Jill as she steps off a crowded train (full of farm animals, Native Americans, and sundry other men and women in a characteristic Leone crowd shot). She looks around for her new family to meet her. But nobody is there for her. Jill steps into the station, and as she arranges her transportation, Leone’s camera majestically swoops over the top of the station house as Ennio Morricone’s score majestically swells and we get a widescreen view of a town in the middle of intensive construction, a frontier village in the middle of its boomtown days.
It’s an incredible moment, the equal of anything Leone has ever committed to screen – and yet, he almost tops that scene a moment later as Jill rides in a carriage through Monument Valley and right through a massive crowd scene of the railroad built through the sandy wilderness. Again the music swells, again Leone shows his intensive attention to detail, and again we get a moment which feels like a perfect realization of something we’ve only seen in old photographs.
As it turns out, Jill’s entire family has been massacred by a group of bad men (I won’t ruin any of the shock by telling you who led the massacre), so this single woman has to make her way alone in the west. And as she gathers allies and enemies, and intersects with all the petty, self-centered men who cross her paths, Jill almost single-handedly gives the sense of leading the civilizing of the West.
And it is in those themes that Once Upon a Time in the West becomes truly transcendent. As you can extrapolate from the title, this film is about more than mere fact and mere adventure. Oh sure, it has all that and more.
But what makes this film so special is that it is continuously in dialogue with the myth of the West. Sergio Leone is a huge fan of classic Westerns, and an attentive viewer will see visual and thematic references to classics such as Duel in the Sun, High Noon and Shane. All of that is intentional, but perhaps the most heartfelt references are to the films of John Ford.
Ford, of course, is the dean of Westerns, the director of classics such as The Searchers, My Darling Clementine and 1964’s fascinating revisionist Cheyenne Autumn. The French journals like Cahiers de Cinema venerate Ford as one of the great auteurs. Leone clearly agrees with that assessment; in fact, reports say that Leone demanded to film several segments of Once Upon a Time in Ford’s beloved Monument Valley.
Leone wants his film to resonate with both a physical and mythic vision of the West. Revenge is a great motivation for westerns so he gives us Bronson’s character, “Harmonica,” who has an especially vivid revenge story. He wants to give us true villains, as he does with the actor I won’t reveal. He wants to show shifting alliances, and small frontier towns, and brave heroes, and all the set pieces we want to see in a classic Western.
But Leone also wants to mourn the loss of that old West, the world of fights and revenge and pointless machismo. It’s no accident that one of the key characters of the film is Morton (played very well by Gabriele Ferzetti), a monumentally rich man whose body is crippled, who travels in a gilded rail car he can't really leave. Morton is ambitious but limited. He can barely see past the horizons of his own vision.
As it turns out, Jill’s late husband bought Sweetwater to build a train station on their property, and as the complex characters of this film ally with and fight against Morton in turn, the film becomes a fascinating exploration of myth, of the ability to grow and transcend, of how one person can stand up to authority and yet then become an authority herself.
Once Upon a Time in the West is ultimately about embracing the past and looking excitedly at the future, at how the myths of the past end and the hard realities of the future can begin. It’s about the hard work and the emotional and physical pain that go into civilizing a frontier, but Leone’s masterpiece is also about individual people who take on the feeling of myths. The final scene is so gorgeous and powerful, such a strikingly optimistic view of American progress, that I was brought to tears.
There is so much more to explore here, and I think one day someone can write a whole book about the themes and complexity of Leone’s tremendous film. I haven’t touched on the story arc of Cheyenne, the Robards character, nor on the majestic cinematography, or on the astonishing opening sequence.
But I think I’ve busted out the thesaurus enough to convince you to catch this film if you possibly can.
Having a teacher first as a mother, and now one for a wife, I think of the year as mirroring the school terms, with the new year beginning in September. But, looking at the newspapers, it doesn’t appear the world has changed much in the last twelve months.
On the home front, the troubles in Northern Ireland keep getting worse, with the presence of British troops now seeming to be resented by both sides. Meanwhile, The Conservative party base is pushing the party to take a harder anti-immigration line, and union chiefs clash with the Wilson government.
British Troops in Ulster, caught in the middle of escalating violence.
Peace talks over Vietnam are once again being held in Paris and apparently going nowhere, there are continued conflicts in the middle East and the Junta in Greece seems as unstable as ever. A harsh crackdown has just finished in Czechoslovakia and the Soviets are still making threatening noises at the rest of Eastern Europe.
Scenes from the streets of Prague, one year on from the Soviet Invasion.
But, whilst the depressing politics of our time continues, so does the regularity of publishing. As such another anthology arrived in the post for me to review.
We open with another tale from the ever-reliable Mrs. Damon Knight. Here Janet Matthews returns to her hometown of Somerset after working in medicine in New York, where she wishes to look after her disabled father. At the same time, a Dr. Staunton is in town to study dreams. Annoyed by his pomposity Janet decides to join in with the project.
This is beautifully described, albeit with some unusual turns of phrase, but it goes on far too long for my tastes, only really becoming more SFnal towards the end. There are also a lot of interesting concepts, but I am not convinced they are explored well enough here to justify their inclusion.
Three Stars
The Roads, the Roads, the Beautiful Road by Avram Davidson
Highway Chief Craig Burns loves his vast new road constructions and does not accept any argument to the contrary. However, one day he misses his turn-off and finds himself in a labyrinth of tunnels and cloverleaf interchanges.
This is the kind of joke story Davidson used to regularly publish when editing F&SF, a feature I have not missed. Add on to this my general dislike of vehicular tales and I was not well disposed to this at all.
Hector, A Jewish father is estranged from his daughter, Lorinda, because of her marrying a form of Martian plant-life named Mor. Months later, the parents receive a letter from her, saying she is pregnant and asking them to come visit her on Mars.
I believe this is the first story from a well-known fan (and wife of Terry Carr) and it marks a strong start. It follows the familiar routes you have likely seen on television programmes but they are not as common in the SF realm. In addition, this is told using a great tone of voice that makes it feel believable.
King Argaven XVII of Karhide is having a recurring visions of executing a crowd of protesters. This madness is attempted to be treated by physician Hoge, but what could be the real cause?
I was originally unsure if this planet is indeed meant to be Gethen from The Left Hand of Darkness, as it is only referred to as “Winter” and the gender changes in the book are not referenced here. However, its connections to the Ekumen seem to confirm that it does indeed take place on the same world.
I found this a confusing read. I started again four times and afterwards I was constantly jumping back and forth to try to get to grips with what was happening. It does not have the usual easy style of Le Guin, instead told through a series of “pictures”. Honestly, I am scratching my head over what to make of it.
Three Stars, I guess?
The Time Machine by Langdon Jones
Jones seems to be emerging as one of the great polymaths of English SF. He has been involved in editing New Worlds for a number of years now, writes prose and poetry, has produced photographic cover art, is helping the Peake estate put together new editions of the Gormenghast trilogy and has an original anthology coming out in a couple of months. Amazingly he still had time to sell this tale to Orbit.
In an unnamed prisoner’s cell sits a photo of Caroline Howard. We hear the story of his past relationship with her and the construction of a time machine to see her again.
This tale is told in a passive distanced voice with the connection of the four different situations not immediately obvious. As such, I imagine it will be alienating to some, but I found it quite beautiful and cleverly constructed.
The titular Time Machine is not a HG Wells type of mechanical construct but a strange device containing a Dali painting and creating a “concrete déjà vu”. This may actually mean that it does not really “work” as such but these are merely the memories and delusions of the prisoner. I believe the ambiguity is intentional on the part of the author and makes the tale all the stronger.
Some may find the conclusion and meaning of the tale a bit mawkish, but I liked it a lot.
John Miller goes to analyst Robert Rousse to resolve an obsession he has had for the last 25 years, to reach the mythical Northern Shore. In order to cure this desire, they sail there in dreams.
Whilst I am a fan of what Mr. Jones does, the same cannot be said of Mr. Lafferty. As such this may work better for other people, but I found it all a little silly.
Two Stars
Paul's Treehouse by Gene Wolfe
Sheila and Morris’ son has been in a treehouse since Thursday and is refusing to come down. As they work with their neighbour to try to get him out, disorder is spreading throughout the town.
This is probably the Gene Wolfe story that has impressed me most so far. Not that it is brilliant, but it is well told and has a solid theme. Hopefully the start of an upswing in his writing.
A high three stars
The Price by C. Davis Belcher
The millionaire John Phillpott Tanker is in a traffic accident that caves in his skull. Whilst his body is still alive, he is braindead. After several tests the doctors conclude he is medically dead and use his organs to save a number of people. Whilst this is controversial, journalist Sturbridge writes a number of articles to win the public around. However, in a surprising turn of events, the recipients of the organ donations sue the Tanker’s estate claiming they are still the living John Phillpott Tanker.
These organ transplant stories are becoming a subgenre in their own right, and, unfortunately, this is among the poorer examples. Lem told a better version of this story in three pages last month than Belcher told in 27.
A low two stars
The Rose Bowl-Pluto Hypothesis by Philip Latham
At a track-meet at the Rose Bowl, three athletes all ran 100 yards in less than 9 seconds. If this wasn’t surprising enough, a whole set of other new running records were set that afternoon. What could be happening?
This spends a lot of time doing pseudo-scientific explanations for something incredibly silly. I was annoyed at having read it.
One star
Winston by Kit Reed
The Wazikis buy the four-year-old child of geniuses as a status symbol. Whilst he has an IQ of 160 they soon grow frustrated he is not yet able to win crossword competitions or answer any trivia question they pose.
This story irritated me for a number of reasons. First off, there is more than a whiff of eugenics about the concept here, with the child of a college professor being inherently smarter than this family with a name we seem to be encouraged to read as Eastern European or North African. At the very least, the way the Wazikis are portrayed feels classist.
Secondly, the fact that smart people are selling children to less intelligent people seems to imply that earning potential and IQ are inversely related. But the Wazikis see Winston as an investment, so are they just meant to be stupid and bad with money?
And then the story is just unpleasant with the amount of child abuse taking place in it. Maybe I am overly sensitive, as I am from the gentler school of parenting, but I found it to be gratuitous instead of aiding the storytelling.
One Star
The History Makers by James Sallis
John writes to his brother Jim about his arrival on Ephemera, a planet where the inhabitants live on a separate time-plane to humanity.
Sallis gives us another epistolary tale which, as usual, is written in a literary style and full of artistic allusions (including, strangely, the second mention of the same Dali painting in this anthology. I blame Ballard). I am not sure this has the same depth as his other works but it is still a wonderfully atmospheric read.
The US military has a problem. Their war against a guerrilla insurgency in Asia is not going well and they want to use tactical nuclear weapons to sort it out. However, the public are squeamish about this sort of thing. The solution? Using a violence obsessed rock group The Four Horseman, to spread their message.
A biting critique of both the American military-industrial complex and the hippy groups selling out. Incredibly timely, clever and disturbing.
A high four stars, bordering on five. (I recently discussed this with some friends over at Young People Read SF if you want to see more of our thoughts.)
The Cycle Continues
Some of the same artists, still in UK charts a year on
And so we complete another Orbit anthology, with it feeling pretty similar to the last one.
The main difference is that there is more New Wave influence creeping in (having stories by two of the editors of New Worlds will do that) but many prior authors reappear, doing similar things. Some of it brilliant, some mediocre, the rest best forgotten.
Will either Orbit or our politics break out of this cycle by autumn 1970? Only time will tell.
And it was glorious. Thanks, Ozark SF Assn., particularly co-chairs Ray and Joyce Fisher, for your bid and your hard work. Apparently, the bid traced its beginnings all the way back to the Room 770 con party at Nolacon I (New Orleans 1951), the last of the small Worldcons—under 200 attendees.
What a contrast, St. Louis! This was the biggest, longest Worldcon ever held, with a reported attendance of 1534. Partying began Tuesday evening in the con committee suite, registration for the con began Thursday, programming ran to Monday, and the parties were still going the following Tuesday night. "Night", of course, is an arbitrary designation: Joe Haldeman was tending bar for the WSFA through 7:30AM on Friday.
Because the con was longer than ever, the price went up accordingly: $4 to show up, $3 to vote.
Aside from the slow elevators, one couldn't fault the facilities. The Chase Park-Plaza, billed as "the biggest and best con hotel west of the Mississippi", charged prices to match: $13 single, $18 double, suites starting at $35. That's if you could get in—the hotel oversold 20% on their reservations but only got 5% cancelations. Hundreds were turned away.
As you can see from the program, there were lots of interesting panels in addition to the permanent fixtures: the dealer room, the art show (10th annual International Science-Fantasy Art Exhibition) run by Bjo Trimble with Bruce Pelz, and (in a new addition) all night movies. Vern and Rita Coriell hosted the "Dum-Dum" of the Burroughs Bibliophiles. Janie Lamb supervised the N3F Hospitality Room.
Jack Gaughan was the first artist since Frank Paul in '56 to be the convention Guest of Honor. Harlan Ellison was the toastmaster, a job he's quite good at. A little longwinded, but always funny. On Friday, he auctioned off Bob Silverberg for $66 before Silverbob, in turn, auctioned Harlan off for $115 to a bunch of young ladies wearing Roddenberry sweatshirts.
Ellison took that opportunity to plump for "Clarion", a school for S-F authors, and since he had driven the bids up so much, he asked if the auction proceeds might be split, half to the con, half to Clarion. Ray Fisher said sure.
Later, Ellison said he was planning on leaving cons and the fan scene to focus on writing.
The Costume Ball on Saturday night was momentous for several reasons. First, a sample of the contestants:
Grand Prize and Judge's Choice went to Karen Anderson and her daughter, Astrid. The former turned the latter into a vampire, complete with gory, dripping blood. It was possibly the best performance at the Masquerade ever.
Most humorous went to Rick Norwood, who went as Charlie Brown (of Peanuts fame, not the famous fan). And thereby hangs a tail. A kite tail.
See, Rick was stumbling around a lot as part of his shtick. Near the end of the event, while folks were waiting for the results, he fell off the runway and plunged into the movie screen the con was renting from the hotel for $40 a day.
Rick Norwood as Good Ole Charlie Brown, just before he fell through the movie screen. Good grief, indeed. From Fanac
Harlan jumped into the fray, asking how much it would cost to replace the screen. $250 was the answer. So he walked the floor, soliciting donations so the convention wouldn't have to cop the bill. He collected $600! Then and there, he suggested that the excess go to Clarion. Ray countered with the proposal that the money buy a beer bust on Monday. The latter went over well.
Sunday night was the Awards Banquet, with a paid attendance of 660 (would have been more except that tickets were only sold until Saturday noon.) Dinner was great, as was the service, and Harlan did a bit of pre-show gab to get everyone in the mood.
Out of nowhere, Ellison announced (not proposed, not suggested) that the excess funds collected earlier were going to Clarion. The audience was not keen on this, especially since rumor had the screen repair going for $36 and the collection take $800. Harlan went on, belatedly, to justify the move, saying that the State of Pennsylvania was about to withdraw financial support for the workshop.
Elliot Shorter, a huckster from New York, drew himself up to his full eight feet (well, that's how he looked compared to Harlan) and said "Now, wait just one goll-darned minute, Harlan." He and Bruce Pelz led the protest. Ray Fisher tried to bail Harlan out, but Ellison's pride was wounded, and he called the crowd "stingy bastards." Ray tabled discussion until the business meeting the next day (it was decided that the extra money would establish a Worldcon Emergency Fund—just for things like emergency screen repair.)
At the banquet Lester Del Rey eulogized Willy Ley, who passed away in June. L. Sprague de Camp then read the text of a special plaque given by First Fandom to Willy's wife, Olga, in place of the First Fandom Award which Willy was slated to get this year.
Jack Gaughan spoke about his work in the art field, and Englishman Eddie Jones, winner of the Trans Atlantic Fan Fund (TAFF) this year, also gave a speech.
Rite of Passage by Alexei Panshin [Ace] Nova by Samuel R. Delany [Doubleday] Past Master by R. A. Lafferty [Ace] The Goblin Reservation by Clifford D. Simak [Galaxy Apr, Jun 1968; Putnam]
Not too much dissent here given the amount of overlap with our Stars picks. Indeed, we both picked the Brunner for the top spot (though, truth be told, I personally didn't get past page 100—I like my books short. Maybe I'm just old.) The Panshin is great, and the Delany is worthy, though some murmur under their breaths that it is more impressive than good. I can't comment on the Lafferty, as we didn't cover it. The Simak didn't get a Star or even an honorable mention, but it's a fine book. Indeed, it's possibly my favorite Simak novel.
Best Novella
“Nightwings” by Robert Silverberg [Galaxy Sep 1968]
Novellas are rare in SF and good ones even rarer, so it's not surprising that we at the Journey and those at the Worldcon liked much the same stuff. What's strange, however, is that the nominators chose two novellas that were later expanded to full serials—to wit, the Silverberg and the McCaffrey. "Sparrows" was on our Honorable Mention list.
Three hits and a miss—the Anthony is good…for Anthony, and the Wilson was roundly panned when Kris reviewed it. It's really a shame that so few slots are devoted to this length at the Hugos because there are so many stories to choose from.
Harlan and Larry made the Dean's list again, but not for the stories we'd have chosen. It's neat to see that fans are choosing tales from beyond The Big Five, although the Knight is weak. As for the Curtis, I have no idea how that one made the cut, especially given just how many great stories came out last year.
Best Dramatic Presentation
Winner: 2001: A Space Odyssey [Paramount] Directed by Stanley Kubrick; Screenplay by Arthur C. Clarke and Stanley Kubrick; based on the story “The Sentinel” by Arthur C. Clarke
Nominees
Yellow Submarine [Apple/Hearst/King Features] Directed by George Dunning; Written by Al Brodax, Roger McGough, Jack Mendelsohn, Lee Minoff and Erich Segal
Charly [ABC Pictures/Selmer] Directed by Ralph Nelson; Screenplay by Stirling Silliphant; based on the short story and novel Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
Rosemary’s Baby [Paramount] Directed by Roman Polanski; Screenplay by Roman Polanski; based on the novel by Ira Levin
The Prisoner – “Fallout” [Everyman/ITC] Written and directed by Patrick McGoohan
For the first time Star Trek didn't make the ballot—not even with a single episode! That's a shame as there was plenty of good Trek last year, particularly "Is There in Truth No Beauty." 2001 was no surprise, but Rosemary's Baby is horror, and Charly was underwhelming. Interestingly, we picked an episode of The Prisoner ("The Schizoid Man") but not the last one, which was rather incomprehensible.
This year is just a reshuffling of last year's picks. I suppose they were somewhat starved for choice, as usual. One wonders if they might open up the selection to anthology series like Orbit.
I'm not sure why Jack keeps winning. Perhaps it's because he hobnobs with the fans more than the rest. Bodé is the newcomer, and his whimiscal style is charming. You mostly saw him around the Pohl mags. Freas, of course, does almost every Analog cover (which makes it surprising he didn't win). The Dillons do a lot of Ace covers, so they get a lot of eyeballs on their work. It's interesting because they have to fit their work in these small boxes due to the domino layout of the covers.
It's interesting that Trumpet got nominated on the strength of just one issue—but it is a highly professional fanzine. I expect they'll get nommed again this year (Niven has a great piece in the latest one).
Riverside Quarterly, like Science Fiction Review (né Psychotic) is an excellent literary criticism mag, and its pages are largely filled by pros. Warhoon, a similar, if less attractive 'zine, I avoid because they publish Walter Breen. Shangri L’Affaires is the house organ for the Los Angeles Science Fiction Society.
The hermit of Hagerstown has jumped from nominee to winner, and no surprise. His perzine Horizon has been a staple of FAPA (Fantasy Amateur Press Association, natch) since the '40s.
I see Richard Delap all over the place, mostly reviewing books. Banks Mebane runs the Washington (D.C.) Science Fiction Association. Walter A. Willis is a well-known Irish fan.
George Barr
William Rotsler
Tim Kirk
Doug Lovenstein
Vaughn's stuff was at Worldcon's art show this year. Like Gaughan, he has feet firmly in both the pro and fan worlds. He also did a cute comic that came out at the convention. Barr does cover art and also the comic "Broken Sword", which appears in the fanzine, Trumpet. Bill Rotsler, "The Amiable Bulldozer", has been everywhere and seen everything. He's also been doing covers since the '40s. Tim Kirk specializes in fantasy, particularly Lord of the Rings. I don't know Doug Lovenstein.
There was a pair of informal awards presented as well:
BIG HEART AWARD:
Presented to Harry Warner Jr. by Forry Ackerman (accepted by Bob Bloch)
and
The FIRST FANDOM AWARD:
presented to Murray Leinster by last year's winner, Jack Williamson (accepted by Judy Lynn Benjamin)
This year, Worldcon moved to a two-years-in-advance bidding tradition, which was actually convenient since next year, the event will be in Heidelberg, West Germany, which could have made the bid for 1971 difficult. As it turns out, '71's con (Noreastcon) will take place in Boston.
And that's that! I think we all deserve a rest after all of that drama. Time to crack into all of those great science fiction books that have been recommended by our pals at the World Science Fiction Society!
It’s considered a truism in journalism that nothing happens in August, so the papers run filler stories about silly things to make up their page count. Sure, Hurricane Camille killed hundreds as it raged from Mississippi to Virginia, and China and the Soviet Union are on the brink of war, but that doesn’t sell papers. Madison Avenue also has a truism: sex sells. Now, the two have come together.
Newsday columnist Mike McGrady was disgusted by the schlocky, sex-obsessed books that regularly make the best-seller lists, so he recruited a bunch of fellow journalists (19 men and five women, by one count) to write a deliberately bad, oversexed book. The result is Naked Came the Stranger, in which the editors worked hard to remove any literary value from the tale of a New York woman’s sexual escapades.
When the book sold 20,000 copies, McGrady and his co-conspirators decided they’d better come clean. Nineteen of them appeared on The Dick Cavett Show, being introduced as Penelope Ashe (the book’s purported author) and walking out to the strains of A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody. As a result of their confession and discussion of their motives, the book has become even more popular. And as of last Sunday, it’s on the New York Times list of best-sellers. You have to laugh to keep from crying.
Penelope Ashe, in part, with the cover model superimposed.
This puts me in mind of a similar literary hoax with a more sfnal connection. Back in 1956, radio host Jean Shepherd was unhappy with the way best-seller lists were being compiled and urged his listeners to ask their local bookstores to order I, Libertine by Frederick R. Ewing. He offered some vague hints about the plot, and many listeners who were in on the joke created references to the book elsewhere. Demand was so high, publisher Ian Ballantine convinced Theodore Sturgeon to knock out a quick novel based on an outline from Shepherd. Betty Ballantine wrote the last chapter as Sturgeon lay in exhausted sleep on the Ballantines’ couch after trying to write the whole thing in one sitting. The cover by Frank Kelly Freas is full of visual jokes and puns. The book is rumored to have gone to number one, but it doesn’t seem to have been on any lists, probably out of pique on the part of the list makers.
The pub sign features a shepherd’s crook and a sturgeon. Art by Frank Kelly Freas
New and old
I think we’re starting to see some of the influence of new editor Ejler Jakobsson. Editor Emeritus Fred Pohl doesn’t seem have ever had anything nice to say about the New Wave, while there is at least one story in this month’s IF with a nod in that direction. There’s a new printer, with a crisper typeface (though it seems better suited to a news magazine than fiction). No one’s mixed up their e’s and o’s, but instead of lines being printed out of order, some lines are just missing. Hopefully, that will be corrected in future issues.
Supposedly for Seeds of Gonyl. If so, it’s from later in the novel. Art by Gaughan
Frank Herbert appears to have tried to write a Philip K. Dick story. There’s a computer that keeps changing the world in an attempt to carry out its function, an unhappy marriage, and an old man who gets a glimpse of why the world he lives in is the way it is.
Art uncredited, maybe by Gaughan
Unfortunately, none of it works. The lines of reality aren’t blurred; people know the computer is changing things, just not why. And the marriage isn’t as unrelievedly grim as in a Dick story (thank goodness). We’re left with none of the good things that either author brings, and the flaws of both.
Two stars.
By Right of Succession, by Barry Malzberg
A man named Carson shoots the occupant of a motorcade. As he leaves the building he fired from, he’s met by a policeman who escorts him to his next destination on a strict timetable. Eventually, all is explained. Sort of.
Is that Nixon? Art uncredited
Here’s our New Wave—or New Wave-ish—story. It’s fine for what it is, but I don’t quite see the connection between the events and the explanation.
Three stars.
None But I, by Piers Anthony
When last we saw him, interstellar dentist Dr. Dillingham had been accepted as an instructor at the galaxy’s top dental school. Now he’s off to cure the oral ills of a long-buried robot that has vowed to kill the person that frees it from 10,000 years of imprisonment.
Dr. Dillingham meets his patient. Art by Gaughan
Anthony is developing a reputation at the Journey, and not a good one. That’s largely down to the way he writes women. Fortunately, none of that is on display here, possibly because the only female character is a highly efficient secretary who looks like a giant spider. We’re left with an inoffensive and mildly entertaining story, whose only flaw is that it specifically makes note of the old tale it is clearly modeled on of a genie with a similar vow.
Three stars.
Survival, by Steven Guy Oliver
A day in the life of an old man living in the irradiated ruins of a city.
Ignore the blurb. These aren’t the last people on Earth. Art by Gaughan
This month’s new author offers us a grim tale of life after World War Three. It’s very well written, but also very depressing, what I believe kids these days call “a real downer.” I definitely wouldn’t mind seeing more from Oliver. But did I mention that the story is grim?
Three grim stars.
Down on the Farm, by W. Macfarlane
Three agricultural salespeople were brought from Earth to a distant planet. Now their contract is up, and the local autocrat who hired them struggles to find a way to pay what they’re due. Unbeknownst to him, they have ulterior motives.
Erasmus Ballod is having a bad day. Art by Gaughan
A bit old-fashioned, but otherwise an enjoyable enough story. Ask me what it was about a month from now, and I won’t be able to tell you, but it didn’t waste my time. For some reason, Macfarlane’s name was left off the first page; fortunately he was credited in the table of contents.
Three stars.
The Story of Our Earth: 2. The First Traces of Life, by Will Ley
The second part of Willy Ley’s sadly incomplete final book looks at the latest theories as to how life began. He discusses the idea of the “primordial ooze” and how and why it has fallen out of favor. The chapter concludes with a brief discussion of continental drift.
While still very good, this chapter didn’t engage me quite as much as the previous did. I can’t say if that’s down to my interest in the subject matter or the quality of Ley’s treatment of it.
Jeff Mallory wakes up to discover that three months are missing, the house shows little sign of cleaning and maintenance, and his wife and two younger children are frightened and worn down. Worst of all, no one remembers his oldest daughter, and her room doesn’t even exist. He soon learns that the town has been taken over by things that are barely human, which force everyone to work on a mysterious project.
Remembering that his daughter was planning to stay with a friend who lives well outside of town, Jeff makes his escape. At the friend’s house, he finds only the friend and several unpleasant occupiers, who tell him that the United States has fallen to Russian forces and that his town is a bombed-out, plague-ridden ruin.
He and Sally, his daughter’s friend, move on and are arrested by Russian military. But the Russians are working together with Americans led by a Colonel Strang, who tells him that the Russians were called in to fight the real occupiers, the Chinese. As the installment ends, Jeff finds himself drafted into Strang’s army. To be continued.
Tonight, the role of Colonel Strang will be played by Ronald Reagan. Art by Gaughan
So far, so Laumer. He may be influenced by some of his work on those books he wrote based on The Invaders, what with people not believing in the invading aliens. Honestly, the main thing that stands out to me in this part is the way young Sally abruptly and quickly throws herself at our hero. Jeff put up at least a token resistance so far, though there is a vague paragraph that suggests things could be otherwise. It plays uncomfortably.
Three stars so far, if you like this sort of Laumer story.
One-Girk-Two is undergoing a field test to see if he will be promoted to One-Girk-One. If he passes, he will become the thinking portion of a composite creature called a Unit.
Our hero. Art by Gaughan
This is probably the Chapdelaine story I’ve enjoyed the most. Unfortunately, like all of Chapdelaine’s work, it’s too long. On the other hand, it didn’t go where I thought it was going. Best of all, it has nothing to do with Spork.
Three stars.
Machines That Teach, by Frederik Pohl
Fred took a trip to Tennessee A. & I. In Nashville, where Perry Chapdelaine is a professor of mathematics and is running a lab researching computer aided instruction. There, through a computer in the lab, a computer at Stanford in California administered a test to measure competence in mathematics. Neat stuff, even if the headline is misleading. Maybe even more interesting is the simple fact that he was able to use a computer in Tennessee to interact with another computer a couple thousand miles away
Three stars.
Summing up
We’re starting to see some of the new editor’s influence, though things aren’t really that different. I’m wondering if Jakobsson is going to continue the IF first program, running a story from a new author every month. The issues he’s been in charge of have had such a story, but he hasn’t called attention to it the way Fred did.
The other thing that stands out to me is that the interior art is all uncredited. Where I’ve indicated it’s by Gaughan, it’s because his signature is visible either on the piece reproduced here or a different piece for the same story. I’m not too keen on all the art coming from just one artist (although if the alternative is “art” by Dan Adkins…). More importantly, they give out Hugos for art. If we don’t know who did it, how do we know who to nominate and vote for?
Tiptree is the only name that means anything to me. A bit of a coin flip as an author, but definitely improving with every story.
Two events occurred today that demonstrate how computers can communicate with each other and with people.
At the University of California in Los Angeles, a gizmo called an Interface Message Processor (IMP) allowed two computers on campus to have a conversation, of sorts. (I assume it was something like beep boop beep.) Plans are underway to set up another IMP at Stanford University, so the two institutes of higher education can share data. One can imagine computers all over the planet chatting away, plotting to take over the world . . . well, maybe not that.
The thing that lets computers exchange information. Don't ask me how it works.
The same day, a device replacing your friendly neighborhood teller appeared at a branch of the Chemical Bank in Rockville Centre, New York. Apparently it can take your money, give you back your money, etc. Is it just me, or does Chemical Bank seem like a weird name for a financial institution? Not to mention the fact that the city doesn't know how to spell center.
Possibly depositing some of the money his company makes from the robot teller.
Fittingly, the latest issue of Fantastic features machines and other things besides humans who are capable of communicating, and performing other activities that demonstrate intelligence.
Cover art by Johnny Bruck.
As usual these days, the cover image comes from a German publication. It's not Perry Rhodan for a change.
Translated, this says The Ring Around the Sun. This seems to be a version of Gallun's 1950 story A Step Further Out, with additional material from German writer Clark Darlton, one of the folks behind Perry Rhodan.
Editorial, by Ted White
The new editor talks about the cancellation of The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour because of material CBS considered offensive. He goes on to discuss the hypocrisy of some members of the older generation, and how science fiction and fantasy might help bridge the gap between young folks and their elders. Pretty serious stuff. He also admits that Fantastic is less popular than its sister publication Amazing, and promises to do something about that.
No rating.
It Could Be Anywhere, by Ted White
Maybe printing his own fiction is part of the editor's plan to improve sales of the magazine.
Illustrations by Michael Hinge.
The author spends half a page explaining the provenance of this story. He was inspired by Keith Laumer's story It Could Be Anything (Amazing, January 1963.) Note the similar title. My esteemed colleague John Boston gave this work a full five stars.
At first, White's tribute took the form of a novel called The Jewels of Elsewhen a couple of years ago. The Noble Editor gave that book four stars. Will this latest variation on a theme reach the same exalted level as its predecessors?
When the familiar becomes unfamiliar.
The narrator is a big guy who works as a private detective. After a very long day, he tries to ride home on the subway in the wee hours of the morning. A wino falls out of his seat. When the gumshoe tries to help the fellow, he finds out that he's not really a genuine human being, but some kind of lifeless simulation.
The only other real person on the subway is a young woman. (In the tradition of popular fiction, she's always called a girl.) When they get off the subway, they find out that the entire city is fake, just a bunch of empty buildings.
The premise reminds me a bit of Fritz Leiber's short novel You're All Alone, in which almost all people are mindless automatons. There's an explanation, of sorts, for what's going on. The characters are interesting, even if they are mostly passive observers of the situation. The way in which the woman's ring plays a role in the plot struck me as arbitrary.
Three stars.
A Guide to the City, by Lin Carter
This was a big surprise. I expect Carter to offer very old-fashioned sword-and-sorcery yarns or equally outdated space operas. Who knew that he could venture into territory explored by Jorge Luis Borges or Franz Kafka?
The story takes the form of an article. The author lives in a gigantic, possibly infinite, city. A single neighborhood takes up hundreds of thousands of blocks. Traveling such a distance is the stuff of legends. The author explains why mapping the entire city is impossible.
This is not a piece for those who demand much in the way of plot or characters. It's all concept, an intellectual exploration of an abstract, mathematical premise. I enjoyed it pretty well; others may find nothing of interest in it.
Three stars.
Ten Percent of Glory, by Verge Foray
In the afterlife, people continue to exist based on how living folks remember them. George Washington can expect to be part of the collective memory for a very long time; Millard Fillmore, maybe not.
The main character is an agent of sorts, who collects a percentage of the renown of his clients in exchange for promoting them in various ways. The plot involves the motives of his secretary.
Stuck somewhat between whimsy and satire, this odd little tale winds up with an ending that may raise some eyebrows. I'm still not quite sure what I thought of it.
Three stars.
Man Swings SF, by Richard A. Lupoff
This is a broad spoof of New Wave science fiction. It starts with an introduction by the fictional Blodwen Blenheim, which alternates lyrics from songs performed by Tiny Tim with a rhapsodizing about an exciting new form of speculative fiction coming from the Isle of Man.
After this, we get a story called In the Kitchen by the imaginary author Ova Hamlet. Like a lot of New Wave SF, it's hard to describe the plot. Suffice to say that it's full of outrageous metaphors and features a doomed protagonist. The piece ends with a mock biography and a ersatz critique of Ova Hamlet.
The (real) author is able to write convincingly in the style of some of the things found in New Worlds, with tongue firmly in cheek. Amusing enough, even if it goes on a little too long for an extended joke.
Three stars.
A Modest Manifesto, by Terry Carr
This essay, reprinted in the magazine's Fantasy Fandom section, originally appeared in the fanzine Warhoon. It wanders all over the place, but for the most part it deals with what the author sees as a cultural revolution, both in fantasy and science fiction and in the outside world. Food for thought.
Three stars.
So much for the new stuff. Let's turn to the reprints.
Secret of the Serpent, by Don Wilcox
This wild yarn first appeared in the January 1948 issue of Fantastic Adventures.
Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones.
As I noted at the start of this article, we're going to run into a lot of entities that have as much sentience as human beings. Would you believe that this one is a gigantic people-eating serpent?
Illustration by Jones also.
Let me back up a little. The serpent used to be an ordinary guy, until he wound up on what the author calls a space island. If that means something other than a planet, it escapes me.
He encounters a huge two-headed cat (don't look at me, I don't make up this stuff) who used to be a woman. The place is also inhabited by a bunch of pygmies, who used to be people living on Mars. Not to mention some Mad Scientists. Or the guy who is a giant skull on a small body.
Very long and complex story short, the formerly human serpent gets partly changed back, and he becomes a serpent with human arms and legs. Somebody wants to turn him into a skeleton for a museum. There's a revolution by the enslaved pygmies against the Mad Scientists. A lot more stuff happens.
I hope I have managed to convey the fact that this is a crazy story. Plot logic is thrown out the window in favor of action, action, and more action. The only explanation for the weird transformations? The water on the space island does it.
Nutty enough to hold the reader's attention for a while, but at full novella length the novelty soon wears off. I got the feeling the author was pulling my leg at times, but there's not enough humor to make the story a parody.
Two stars.
All Flesh is Brass, by Milton Lesser
The August 1952 issue of Fantastic Adventures supplies this grim tale.
Cover art by Walter Popp.
The Soviet Union has conquered Western Europe, and is now attacking the United States via Canada. The story takes the form of the diary of a soldier. He learns that some dead fighters are being replaced by robotic duplicates, who not only copy their bodies but also their minds.
Illustration by Ed Emshwiller.
The replacements don't even know that they're not human, until that fact becomes obvious in one way or another. They are also designed to be eliminated within a couple of years after they're activated. Let's just say that the situation doesn't work out well.
In addition to the plot, the story paints a vivid and realistic portrait of warfare, as seen by an ordinary soldier. I was particularly impressed by the way the author handles the subplot concerning the female fighter encountered by the main character. I wasn't expecting that to go in the direction it did.
Four stars.
According to You . . ., by Ted White, etc.
After an extended absence, the letter column returns. I wouldn't bother to mention it, but it's odd in a couple of ways. First up is a mock letter from Blodwhen Blenheim and Ova Hamlet (remember them?) thanking the editor for printing Hamlet's story. A cute extension of the joke.
Next are a couple of letters asking for more sword-and-sorcery stories. One reader includes a poem about Conan. I probably shouldn't say anything about the quality of the verse.
Last is a missive attacking just about everything in the April issue. The writer, if he's real, is in jail. Hmm.
No rating.
Isolationist, by Mack Reynolds
This ironic yarn comes from the April 1950 issue of Fantastic Adventures.
Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones again.
The narrator is a cynical old farmer, suspicious of technology and of the modern world in general. When an alien spaceship lands in his field, he thinks it's an American vessel of some sort.
Illustration by Julian S. Krupa.
The accents of the friendly inhabitants convince him they're foreigners, which makes them even less welcome than before. Not to mention that they ruined part of his crop of corn.
This is a very simple story, with an inevitable conclusion. The crotchety narrator is a decent creation, but there's not much else to it.
Two stars.
The Unthinking Destroyer, by Rog Phillips
The December 1948 issue of Amazing Stories offers this philosophical tale.
Cover art by Harold W. McCauley.
Two guys talk about the possibility of intelligent life being unrecognizable by human beings. (Back to the theme with which I started this article.) In alternating sections of text, two beings discuss abstract concepts.
Illustration by Bill Terry.
It took me a while to get the point of this story. It might be seen as a rather silly joke, or as something a bit more meaningful.
Two stars.
Fantasy Books, by Fritz Leiber and Francis Lanthrop
Leiber offers mixed reviews of a collection and a novel. Lanthrop praises three books by Leiber about the adventures of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser.
No rating.
Worth Talking About?
This was a middle-of-the-road issue, with everything hovering around a three-star rating. Not a waste of time, but not particularly memorable either. Maybe someday a computer will be able to read it to you, so you don't have to turn the pages of the magazine.
The Parametric Artificial Talker (PAT), developed by the University of Edinburgh in 1956, was the first machine to synthesize human speech.
Last October, just after Apollo 7 went up, it looked as if the Soviets still had a chance at beating us to the Moon. Their Zond 5, really a noseless Soyuz, had been sent around the Moon two months ahead of our Apollo 8 circumlunar flight. Just a month later, the similar Zond 6 took off on November 16 and zoomed around the Moon before not just landing, but making a pinpoint landing in the Kazakh S.S.R. (near its launch site) with the aid of little wings. Apparently, the prior Zond 5's splashing down in the Indian Ocean was not according to plan.
Shortly after the flight, the Soviets dropped the bombshell that Zond 6 could have been manned—and the next one might well be.
Well, as we all know, the Communists didn't beat us around the Moon. Moreover, they didn't beat us to the Moon, either. Remember all that talk about Luna 15 during the flight of Apollo 11? That was the probe launched just before Columbia and Eagle, rumored to be a sample-return mission. Well, it crashed into the aptly named Sea of Crises about 500 miles northeast of Eagle's landing site on July 21. Had its mission been successful, the Soviets might have had bragging rights about getting the first batch of Moon rocks.
But, as the Ruskies found out after who knows how many unsuccessful Luna flights, only succeeding in 1966 with Luna 9, complicated maneuvers rarely work on the first time out.
That said, even with the clear American victory in the Moon race, the Soviets appear to still be going strong. Earlier this month, Zond 7 sailed around the Earth's companion, landing on August 14. Still no people onboard, but perhaps they worked out the communications troubles that reportedly plagued the last two Zond missions.
Whether these Zond flights presage an upcoming attempt with people onboard remains to be seen. According to former NASA chief Jim Webb, the Soviets are also building a super rocket, which they will use to put cosmonauts on the Moon. Put two and two together, and perhaps the early 70s will see the USSR catch up to and surpass the US.
Unless we get to Mars first…
Being #1, they've stopped trying
Analog has, for decades now, kept the title of the most-read science fiction magazine on the market. On the other hand, editor John Campbell has been sitting on his laurels for a long time, producing an unexciting periodical for the past several years. The latest issue of Analog only adds more fuel to the argument that perhaps it is time for the old don to step down and let someone vigorous take his place—at least to bring the magazine into the 1960s!
A two-man team is sent from Earth to the planet of Esthaa. Their mission: to determine of the humanoid inhabitants are, well, human. The results may put to bed the two competing theories that explain the ubiquity of the human form in the galaxy: common evolution and random scattering, or independent, convergent evolution.
The Esthaans are a robust, beautiful people, but there is something somehow phony about them. Meanwhile, they seem to be on the verge of completing a genocide against the primitive Flenns…who also appear to be a type of human.
What is the connection between the two races? And why have the civilized Esthaans developed such an antipathy for the pathetic Flenns? And is an earlier Terran expedition somehow the cause of all this?
There's some interesting biology wrapped up in this story (as suggested by the title), and since biology is not my specialty, I can't even begin to speculate how plausible it is. But it's an interesting story, well-written, and easily the best I've read from newcomer Tiptree.
Four stars.
Starman, by W. Macfarlane
by Leo Summers
The assistant fifth mate on an interstellar tramp freighter decides to jump ship on a backwater world. The natives have reverted to savagery after once having broadcast power and space travel.
Said starman soon learns that Stone Age living isn't all it's cracked up to be. Luckily, there are a few relics of the old days left at his disposal.
This is a fun, if inconsequential, story. The writing is breezy, fun, and tongue-in-cheek, though the casual slurs are somewhat offputting. I'm also getting very tired of humans, humans everywhere instead of true E-Ts.
Three stars.
The Big Boosters of the U.S.S.R., by G. Harry Stine
Speaking of the Soviet super-booster—amateur rocketeer Stine conjectures as to the configuration and capability of the USSR's rocket stable. Of course, given how secretive the Russians are, there's a lot of guesswork involved.
I appreciated it, but I have to wonder how accurate he is. In particular, I'm not sure why he believes that Soyuz 1 was launched on a different rocket from the later Soyuz missions. I've seen nothing to that effect. Maybe he's talking about whatever is shooting up Zonds around the Moon. Those are, after all, just stripped down Soyuzes.
Anyway, four stars. We'll see how right he is in a decade or so…
Damper, by E. G. Von Wald
by Peter Skirka
A tyro hotshot joins the Weather Control Bureau and is dispatched to a small, Arabian country. When a Soviet incursion threatens the peace, he shifts the focus of his rain-making efforts from irrigation to interdiction.
Aside from the casual and constant male chauvinism, I have a hard time buying weather control as an SFnal theme, particularly so thinly sketched out as it is in this story. Orbital lasers (don't those count as space-based weapons?) pumped a lot of heat into the atmosphere to evaporate ocean water and create onshore winds—that heat doesn't go away. What happens when the Earth warms up by several degrees thanks to all that extra heat? Beyond that, the technique wouldn't work anyway: it takes more than wet air to make rain; you need some kind of condensate material. That's why planes seed clouds with silver iodide so the water has something to coalesce around to make droplets.
Two stars.
Stimulus-Response, by Herbert Jacob Bernstein
by Kelly Freas
A trio of scientists are using electrodes and encephalograms to record brain patterns. The goal is to train a dog to use specific thoughts to trigger its food dish. In the process, the researchers accidentally teach the beagle how to telekinese.
Not only is this story a turgid bit of pseudo-engineering, but then it abandons science entirely to enter the region of Campbell's beloved psi. Look, I can sort of enjoy psionics if I treat them like a kind of magic, but when they're mixed in with engineering to get a patina of respectability—and the story is deadly dull to boot—well, there's only one score for it.
One star.
In His Image, by Robert Chilson
by Leo Summers
A biologist synthesizes the first androids—they are human in all respects, save for their satyr-form lower halves. Bred to be performers, they have been conscious just six months, but have the minds of college professors and the bodies of nubile goddesses. When the Actors' Guild sues for an injunction against their use in the entertainment business citing unfair competition, a friendly reporter purchases one of them despite the fact that they are sentient and, for all intents and purposes, human. The goal is to force the courts to declare the androids fully human and thus exempt from measures against discrimination.
The question of whether or not androids are people has frequently been explored in science fiction, from the sublime Synth to the less than perfectly successful Trek episode Requiem for Methuselah. Chilson's tale is… well, it's dull and kind of stupid. The androids have no personality save for interchangeable sex kitten, the writing is uninspired, and the universe implausible. It's not even clear what point Chilson is trying to make, so muddied are all the story's elements. In the end, the plot of the story, such as it is, seems only to exist so we can have a trio of jiggly goat girls mincing around.
One star.
The Visitors, by Jack Wodhams
by Kelly Freas
Terrans land on the first inhabitable world ever found and make first contact with the natives. Turns out "primitive" doesn't mean "defenseless."
This would be a two-star story, inoffensive but not noteworthy, except for the sheer number of words Wodhams wastes getting to his point. Twenty pages that could easily have been condensed to, I dunno, five.
One star.
Crashlanding
Well, like the Soviets, Analog is churning issues out that look like winners, but really are just unimpressive retreads. This one clocks in at 2.4, which is higher than Galaxy (2.2), but lower than Fantasy and Science Fiction (2.7), Visions of Tomorrow (2.8), Amazing (2.9). If (3.0), New Worlds (3.3).
Only one new piece of fiction was written by a woman, and if you took all the decent stuff published this month, you'd only be able to fill two digests—and that's with the extra paperback anthology this month. Whither short SF? Whither the Soviet space program?
![[September 18, 1969] Neo-Rococo Dreaming](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/1_JimLee-OssieClark-Aeroplane1969_crop-800x450.jpeg-1-672x372.webp)
![[September 16, 1969] September 1969 Galactoscope](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/690916covers-672x372.jpg)
![[September 14, 1969] More Gems from the Pulps: <i>Bran Mak Morn</i> by Robert E. Howard and <i>Jirel of Joiry</i> by C.L. Moore](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/690914coracovers-601x372.jpg)
![[September 12, 1969] Earthshaking (October 1969 <i>Galaxy</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/690912galaxycover-397x372.jpg)
![[September 10, 1969] Once Upon a Time in the West: Best Film of the 1960s?](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/west-title-672x372.jpg)
![[September 8, 1969] Another Orbit around the sun (<i>Orbit 5</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/O5-3-312x372.png)
![[September 6, 1969] A hot time in the old town (Worldcon in St. Louis!)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/690904book-603x372.jpg)
![[September 4, 1969] <i>Plus ça change</i> (October 1969 <i>IF</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/IF-1969-10-Cover-487x372.jpg)
Penelope Ashe, in part, with the cover model superimposed.
Supposedly for Seeds of Gonyl. If so, it’s from later in the novel. Art by Gaughan
Art uncredited, maybe by Gaughan
Is that Nixon? Art uncredited
Dr. Dillingham meets his patient. Art by Gaughan
Ignore the blurb. These aren’t the last people on Earth. Art by Gaughan
Erasmus Ballod is having a bad day. Art by Gaughan
Tonight, the role of Colonel Strang will be played by Ronald Reagan. Art by Gaughan
Our hero. Art by Gaughan
Tiptree is the only name that means anything to me. A bit of a coin flip as an author, but definitely improving with every story.![[September 2, 1969] People, Machines, and Other Thinking Entities (October 1969 <i>Fantastic</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/COVERSMALL-672x372.jpg)
![[August 31, 1969] Over (and under) the Moon (September 1969 <i>Analog</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/690831analogcover-659x372.jpg)
