Book, Magazine/Anthology, Science / Space Race

[December 21, 1963] Soaring and Plummeting (January 1964 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

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The Balloon goes Up

It's been something of a dry patch for American space spectaculars, and with projects Gemini and Apollo both being delayed by technical and budgetary issues, it is no wonder that NASA is hungry for any positive news.  So you can excuse them for trumpeting the launch of Explorer 19 so loudly — even if the thing is just a big balloon.  How excited can anyone get about that?

As it turns out, plenty excited.

Explorer 19, launched December 19, 1963, is a spherical balloon painted with polka-dots (they keep the sun from making it too hot or cold), and what it does is measure the atmosphere as it circles the Earth.  Not with any active instruments, but just by moving.  All orbiting spacecraft have an ideal route, one determined by Newton's laws.  If there were no air at all up there, the satellite would just keep orbiting in the same path forever (though the Moon and the Sun exert their own influences).  But there is air up there.  To be sure, the "air" up above 600 kilometers in altitude is hardly deserving of the name — it's a harder vacuum than we can make on the ground!  Nevertheless, the stuff up there is denser than what is found in interplanetary space, and we can tell its density from the slow slip of Explorer 19 in its orbit. 

If we want to know what kind of science we'll get from Explorer 19, all we have to do is look to Explorer 9.  Launched two years ago, it is a virtual twin.  Both Explorers were launched from cheap, solid-fuel Scout rockets.  Both have tracking beacons that failed shortly after launch.  The only way to get any data from these missions is to track the satellites by sophisticated cameras.

Explorer 9 has already contributed immensely to our knowledge of Earth's upper atmosphere.  Thanks to constant photographic tracking of the satellite, scientists have seen the expansion of the atmosphere as it heats up during the day as well as shorter term heating from magnetic storms in the ionosphere.  As a result, we are getting a good idea of the "climate" on the other side of the atmosphere over a wide range of latitudes. 

This is not only useful as basic science; the folks who launch satellites now have a better idea how long their craft will last and the best orbits to shoot them into, saving money in the long run.  It is one of the many examples of how the exploration of space bears immediate fruit and also extended benefits.

And that's something to be excited about!

The other shoe drops

On the other hand, the January 1964 Fantasy and Science Fiction begins the year on the wrong foot.  It is yet another collection of substandard and overly affected tales (leavened by a few decent pieces that somehow manage to get through), something like what Analog has become, though to be fair, I'm really looking forward to Analog this month. 

But first…

Pacifist, by Mack Reynolds

The best piece of the month is Pacifist by the prolific, seasoned, and (on occasion) excellent Mack Reynolds.  On a world much like ours, but where the balance of power is held between the north and south hemispheres, an anti-war group determines that the only way to curb our species' bellicose tendencies is to frighten the war-wagers with violence.  But can you really quench fire with fire?

It works because of the writing, something Reynolds never has trouble with.  Four stars.

Starlight Rhapsody, by Zhuravleva Valentina

This curious piece, in which a young woman astronomer discerns intelligent signals being broadcast from the nearby star, Procyon, originated in the Soviet Union.  It was then translated into Esperanto, of all languages, and then found its way into English.  The result is…well, I'll let our Russian correspondent give us her thoughts:


by Margarita Mospanova

In Russian, Starlight Rhapsody is actually a very pretty story — melodic and full of poetry, literally and metaphorically. It’s fairly melancholy, with just a touch of underlying Soviet optimism, nothing too garish in this case. But the translation…

Man, the translation makes me want to tear my hair out. It’s awful. It misses entire paragraphs of text as well as actual poems in the beginning and in the end. And the prose itself in no way resembles the original. Hell, it’s as if the translator used some kind of computerized translation device and just removed the grammatical mistakes afterwards. I’m really disappointed because the original story is really unexpectedly good.


by Gideon Marcus

You can get a glimmer of the story's original strength even from the twice-butchered version that editor Davidson provides.  Thus, three dispirited stars.

The Follower, by Wenzell Brown

Witness the perfect match: A milquetoast who decides to make his mark on society by stalking someone, and a paranoiac who only finds satisfaction when someone really is after him.  But their game develops a twist when their twin psychoses create a third player combining the worst aspects of both.

Sounds intriguing, doesn't it?  If it were better done or more profound in its revelation, it might have been.  As is, it straddles the line between two and three stars, leaning toward the former.

The Tree of Time (Part 2 of 2), by Damon Knight

The conclusion of last month's adventure, in which a not-quite-man from the future is abducted from our time by frog people from his and then left to die in an experimental dimension ship.

After a reasonably thrilling beginning, the book reverts to what it was from the start — a pointless pastiche of the worst elements of science fiction's "Golden Age."  Deliberate or not, it's no less unreadable for it.

One star.  Feh.

Thaw and Serve, by Allen Kim Lang

Lang explores an interesting idea: hardened criminals are quick-frozen and deposited two centuries into the future.  It is the ultimate passing of the buck.  Turns out the future doesn't know what to do with them either, choosing to dump them in the wilds of Australia.  There, they fight it out for the televised amusement of the future-dwellers.

Written and plotted with a heavy hand, it's not one of Lang's better works.  In fact, the best thing about the story is the biographical preamble (Lang's middle name was given to him by Koreans during the war).

Two stars.

Nackles, by Curt Clark

"Curt Clark" (I have it on good authority that it's actually Donald Westlake) offers up the chilling story of the creation of a deity.  In this case, it's Santa Claus' dark shadow, the child-abducting "Nackles," who is caused to exist the same way as any other god — through widespread promulgation of belief.

Deeply unpleasant, but quite effective.  Three stars (four if this is your kind of thing).

Round and Round and …, by Isaac Asimov

At long last, I finally understand the concept of the "sidereal day," as well as the length of such days on other planets.  Thank you, Doctor A!  Four stars.

The Book of Elijah, by Edward Wellen

If you haven't read First and Second Kings (or as the uninitiated might call them, "One and Two Kings"), Elijah was a biblical prophet, passionate in his service of the Lord, who ascended to Heaven in flame and is due to return just before the End Times.  Ed Wellen, best known for his "funny" non-fact articles in Galaxy, writes about what happens to Elijah during his sojourn off Earth.

The Book is written in pseudo-King James style and is about as fun as reading the Bible, without any of the spiritual edification.  One star.

Appointment at Ten O'Clock, by Robert Lory

Last up, we have the tale of man with just ten minutes to live…over and over and over again.  Ten O'Clock has the beginning of an interesting concept and some deft writing, but it is short-circuited in execution.  It reads like the effort of a promising but neophyte author (which, in fact, it is — this is his second work).  Three stars.

This is what the once proud F&SF has been reduced to: a lousy Knight serial (shame, Damon!), a disappointing translation, some bad little pieces, and a couple of bright spots.  And Asimov's column, which I read, even if few others seem to.

Oh well.  I've already paid for the year.  Might as well see it through.

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TV

[December 19, 1963] Veiled Secrets (The Outer Limits, Season 1, Episodes 9-12)

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by Natalie Devitt

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It seems that during this past month of The Outer Limits almost everyone has a secret. Whether it’s aliens plotting to take over the world, prisoners of war resisting their interrogators, a research facility with a monster hidden away in the back of a laboratory, or phony mediums pretending to make contact with the dead; everyone is going to great lengths to hide something…

Corpus Earthling, by Orin Borsten

Robert Culp returns to The Outer Limits. This time for Corpus Earthling, which is adapted from Louis Charbonneau’s novel by the same name. Corpus Earthling is not quite as strong of a story as Culp’s last outing on the series, The Architects of Fear, but it is not without its charm. Corpus Earthling is the story of Doctor Cameron, portrayed by Culp, who while working in the lab one day, overhears two aliens plotting to take over the world. According to the show’s narrator, these extraterrestrials are posing as "two black crystalline rocks: unclassifiable. Objects on the border between the living and the nonliving."

If this sounds silly, bear with me. Despite rocks not actually being able to speak, there is reason to believe that Cameron’s ability to hear the rocks communicating may be the result of a plate that was implanted in his head. Or could it just simply be him imagining things because of the injury that led him to get the plate in the first place? Worried that he may be losing his grip on reality, Cameron and his wife, wonderfully played by Angel Baby actress Salome Jens, decide to take the honeymoon that they had been postponing. The couple take off to Tijuana, unaware that the rocks have already possessed the body of Cameron’s colleague, Doctor Temple, played by television actor Barry Atwater. Temple follows Cameron and his wife all the way to Mexico, vowing to catch Cameron at any cost.

The last time rocks from outer space seemed this threatening was the 1957 film, The Monolith Monsters. Like The Monolith Monsters, Corpus Earthling is probably not for everyone, but that’s okay. Both are perfectly enjoyable to me. The rocks at the center of this story resemble two Jell-O molds that jiggle every time they communicate with one another. They also morph into other shapes that at times are no more scary than the title creature from William Castle’s The Tingler before eventually controlling Doctor Temple’s body. Once the alien rocks take over Doctor Temple‘s body, the episode improves dramatically. Temple becomes cold and emotionless. He speaks with a strange echo. Additionally, Temple ages rapidly and looks like a ghoul from Carnival of Souls.

Cinematographer Conrad Hall did a terrific job with this episode. Corpus Earthling uses shadows to create a dark atmosphere, and as a result the episode feels like a horror movie. The viewer knows Doctor Temple is stalking them and could be lurking in the shadows at any moment, and whatever the viewer does not see, they can fill in with their imagination. I am sure some may find the whole alien possession thing a little too much like Invasion of the Body Snatchers, but I personally think Corpus Earthling is just creepy good fun. It may even be the show’s spookiest episode yet. All of this is reason enough for me to give it three and a half stars.

Nightmare, by Joseph Stefano

The aptly titled Nightmare follows a group of soldiers who board a rocket from Earth to the planet of Ebon. Ebon is according to the show’s narrator a " black question mark at the end of a dark foreboding journey.” When the men reach Ebon, they are taken as prisoners of war. The soldiers are told that they have no hope to escape and they are forced to undergo interrogations, which the inhabitants of Ebon or the Ebonites as they are called, refer to as "exploratory interviews.” In addition to the interrogations, the Ebonites can control any one of a person’s five senses. The Ebonites use this ability, along with a mind altering substance, in order to get information from the soldiers. Not surprisingly, that information comes at a pretty steep price.

The set design for Nightmare could not be more minimal. The cold and sterile appearance of the set is a perfect fit for the story. Instead of filling up the space visually, the episode focuses on outstanding acting from a terrific group of actors, a well-written script, and a musical score that could not be more appropriate. While the entire cast for Nightmare is top-notch, it is Jim Shigeta’s performance that really stands out. A pretty intense episode is made even more terrifying by the makeup and costumes worn by the actors playing the Ebonites, with their wings and very pronounced brow ridges.

Overall, this is a great episode that captures what happens to men when they are put under extreme stress. Recent events delayed this episode’s airing, but it was definitely worth the wait. It receives five stars.

It Crawled Out of the Woodwork, by Joseph Stefano

In It Crawled Out of the Woodwork, an accident at a center for energy research called NORCO results in the creation of a large cloud of energy. According to the law of the conservation of energy, energy cannot be created or destroyed. Since the researchers cannot destroy the cloud, and also so they can study it, it is kept hidden in a room in the back of a lab that is often referred to as "the pit.” Unaware of NORCO’s secret, Michael Forest stars as Stuart Peters, who relocates to California with his younger brother Jory, played by Scott Marlowe, intending to join NORCO’s team of researchers. Before his first day on the job, Peters and his brother decide to sneak a peek at NORCO, so they get in the car and drive by the property. When the men pull their car up to the gate, they are told by a guard to "look fast, but nobody is allowed to hang around here.” Unbeknownst to them at the time, the guard scribbles a note on the inside of a book of matches which he hands to one of the brothers, saying "Don’t come back. NORCO doomed.”

The next day after reading the note, Stuart mentions it to his boss at NORCO. Behind his back, Stuart’s boss gives instructions for Stuart to be lured into the pit, where Stuart is drained by the creature of his energy and passes away on the spot. Jory is never notified of his brother‘s death. Days later, a reanimated Stuart shows up at the apartment, but this time he is wearing what appears to be a pacemaker, even though he never had a history of heart problems. He and Jory get into an altercation, which results in Stuart falling into a bathtub filled with water. The water destroys the pacemaker and kills Stuart once and for all. A gentleman by the name of Sergeant Siroleo, portrayed by Edward Asner, is assigned to investigate Stuart’s death, and what he uncovers has to be seen to be believed.

We are only on the eleventh episode of The Outer Limits and we already have another being that relies on energy. You may recall a similar monster in The Man with the Power. The creature in It Crawled Out of the Woodwork is unique in the fact that it is not the usual man in a costume with special effects makeup and prosthetics on his face. Aside from its somewhat disappointing first appearance, the monster is created using mostly special effects, which is a welcome change of pace (though I have grown so fond of the usual man in a suit).

Like most previous episodes, It Crawled Out of the Woodwork benefits from having a great cast of actors that feed off of each other and help to make an otherwise decent story good. I give It Crawled Out of the Woodwork three stars.

The Borderland, by Leslie Stevens

British actor Barry Jones stars in The Borderland as Dwight Hartley, a man desperate to make contact with his dead son, Dion. Mr. Hartley enlists the help of a medium by the name of Mrs. Palmer, played by theatre and film actress Gladys Cooper. Those not familiar with the character actress would probably recognize her from The Twilight Zone’s Nothing in the Dark and Passage on the Lady Anne. Mrs. Palmer arranges a séance and claims to have success communicating Mr. Hartley’s son, until two scientists who happen to be at the séance, Ian and Eva, expose Mrs. Palmer as the scam artist that she is.

Later, Ian explains to Mr. Hartley that he and Eva are working on an experiment that they hypothesize will help them to go beyond The Borderland to cross over to the fourth dimension. Also, that all they need is access to a larger magnetic field and a more powerful power source. Eager to repay Ian and Eva for helping him with Mrs. Palmer, Mr. Hartley offers to fund their project under the condition that it can be used to try to make contact with Dion. The only problem is Mrs. Palmer has secretly devised a plan to ruin the experiment.

Despite a somewhat interesting premise, great actors and being incredibly well-shot, The Borderland failed to really entertain or move me. A story about a man wanting to reconnect with his dead son has the potential to bring tears to a person’s eyes, but none of the characters were really developed enough for me to care about them. The scenes involving Mrs. Palmer trying to sabotage the experiment were pretty silly and seemed very out of place with the rest of the story. I have no choice but to give two stars for what was easily the least enjoyable episode this past month.

The mysteries of The Outer Limits continue to keep me under the show’s spell. The Borderland was the only real letdown in an otherwise almost consistently good month.

[New to the Journey? Read this for a brief introduction!]


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Magazine/Anthology

[December 17, 1963] The Ink-and-Paper Zoo (February 1964 Worlds of Tomorrow)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

I suppose it's appropriate that a magazine about the future should bear a cover date from a year that hasn't arrived yet.  While the rest of us count the days until the end of 1963, editor Frederik Pohl peers into his crystal ball and discovers what 1964 has in store.  According to the latest issue of Worlds of Tomorrow, it's a very mixed picture indeed.  With so many different kinds of science fiction stories inside its pages, the magazine is something of a Noah's Ark of imaginative literature.  Let's go for a ride, shall we?

Lord of the Uffts, by Murray Leinster

This novella, from an author who has written science fiction for more than four decades, takes up half the magazine.  It begins with a man having just returned from a deadly planet where he collected precious gems.  He celebrates his good luck in the time-honored way of getting roaring drunk.  When he wakes up, he finds himself aboard a rickety spaceship bound for parts unknown.  It seems that, while in his cups, he agreed to serve as navigator for the man who owns the vessel.  He also got into a fight with the police.  His new employer hasn't paid his bills, so they both take off in a hurry to escape the authorities. 

The master of the spaceship claims to have a plan to win a vast fortune by journeying to a certain planet.  Humans from another world settled it long ago.  They have since degenerated into a pre-industrial society.  Also inhabiting the planet are sentient aliens who look exactly like pigs.  The humans hire them for various odd jobs, in exchange for beer.  Despite this arrangement, which benefits both species, the pigs have nothing but contempt for the humans, openly insulting them at every opportunity. 

The owner of the spaceship violates a serious taboo by offering to do business with the humans.  They consider paying a person for goods or services an unforgivable insult.  In their eyes, such things are fit only for the pigs.  So serious a breach of etiquette is this that they sentence the man to death by hanging.  The protagonist faces a similar fate, when he inadvertently offends his host by speaking words of flattery to the pigs.  Complications ensue.  The hero eventually finds out why the humans have lost their advanced technological skills, possess only shoddy goods, and depend on the pigs for labor.  He eventually manipulates both species into a new way of life, and lives happily ever after with the love of his life.

This is a tongue-in-cheek tale of adventure, with touches of comedy and satire.  Despite threats to his life, the protagonist never seems to be in any real danger.  The explanation for the ways the humans live is predictable, given a strong hint early in the story.  Although it provides some amusement, the story goes on too long to sustain its lighthearted tone. 

Two stars.

The Provenance of Swift, by Lyle G. Boyd

This is a mock article claiming to provide evidence that Jonathan Swift was a Martian.  Readers of Gulliver's Travels will not be surprised to learn that it is based on the odd coincidence that the great satirist wrote about Mars having two moons long before they were discovered.  Well aware that this has been pointed out many times before, the author provides other so-called proofs.  Incidents in the life of Swift are interpreted in outrageous ways.  Even if this is intended as a spoof of misguided scholarship, it's a one-joke parody.  If nothing else, the reader learns quite a bit about a gifted writer.  (Swift, that is, not Boyd.)

Two stars.

Alpha, Beta, Love…, by Bill Doede

A man and a woman land on a planet in order to find out if it is suitable for colonization.  It is inhabited by two disembodied beings in the form of glowing spheres, able to teleport at will, and to manipulate the minds and bodies of the humans.  One of the globes, who used to be male, is more-or-less friendly.  The other, who once inhabited a female body, is so resentful of never having had a love life that she attempts to kill the humans.  The human man figures out a way to block the aliens' telepathic powers through a technological trick which is not very convincing.

They next encounter a furry humanoid creature with sticky pads on its digits, like those of a gecko.  This meeting turns out to have more to do with the spheres than expected.  Other strange things happen, but what is really at stake is whether the woman will fall in love with the man or not. 

This is an odd story.  The author has an active imagination, but the plot never hangs together. 

Two stars.

When the Stars Answer, by T. K. Brown III

This tale of first contact begins with a history of radio astronomy, leading up to Project Ozma.  The fictional part begins when a spaceship arrives from the star 61 Cygni, in response to signals from Earth.  The sole passenger appears human, but has vastly superior intelligence.  There's a clever twist in the plot that should have ended the story.  Unfortunately, one final paragraph turns the whole thing into a silly farce.

Two stars.

A Message from Loki, by James Blish

A writer better known for fiction offers an article about Jupiter's Great Red Spot.  Based on the behavior of high winds on the surface of the Earth, he suggests that it might lie above a gigantic plateau.  Since we don't even know if Jupiter has a solid surface at all, this is highly speculative. 

Two stars.

The Transcendent Tigers, by R. A. Lafferty

A seven-year-old girl receives a red cap, along with other small gifts, on her birthday.  This gives her the power to do incredible things, from turning a hollow ball inside out without tearing it to solving an impossible wire puzzle.  Disaster soon follows.  Very few writers can pull off this strange kind of apocalyptic whimsy as well as Lafferty.  His use of unusual names, bizarre words, deadpan dialogue and narration, and quotes from fictional journals makes this tale of worldwide catastrophe charming. 

Four stars.

Little Dog Gone, by Robert F. Young

The magazine ends almost the same way it began, with a man waking up from a drunken spree to find himself far off in space.  In this case, the fellow is an actor, who destroyed his career with his drinking.  He winds up on a frontier colony planet.  The first creature he meets looks very much like an ordinary dog, but has the power to teleport.  The friendly little animal accompanies him into town.  There he meets a woman who used to play a sort of female Tarzan on interplanetary television.  Down on her luck, she now works at the local bar.  Together the three form a space-going medicine show, making use of the dog's ability.  Success leads the man to confront his past, and to make a decision about his future.  Readers familiar with the author's works will not be surprised to learn that this is a sentimental love story.  Nevertheless, although it wears its heart on its sleeve, it never becomes overly emotional. 

Four stars.

Summing up

From pigs to tigers to dogs, this issue provides a menagerie of science fiction.  Although not all the specimens on display are equally interesting, it's worth walking by their cages to see what weird creatures are looking back at you.

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TV

[December 15, 1963] Our First Outing Into Time And Space (Dr. Who: THE FIREMAKERS)

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By Jessica Holmes

Welcome back, class. I'm not sure why I'm calling you class. I'm not a teacher, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s waffling on at people who may or may not be listening to me. So, are we ready for some more Doctor Who? Our first serial just wrapped up, so it's time for a bit of a recap, and my thoughts.

We last saw the T.A.R.D.I.S having turned up in a desolate wasteland, observed by an unknown shadow. Where are we? Who was the shadow? Am I going to keep asking rhetorical questions?

Let's find out.

Continue reading [December 15, 1963] Our First Outing Into Time And Space (Dr. Who: THE FIREMAKERS) →

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Magazine/Anthology

[December 13, 1963] SLOW-DOWN (the January 1964 Amazing)

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by John Boston

The shock of President Kennedy’s assassination remains new and raw in the public consciousness and public discourse, but there are starting to be some discordant notes.  Malcolm X, one of the leaders of the Nation of Islam—the Black Muslims in common parlance—who seems to have appointed himself as the skunk at America’s picnic, was asked about the assassination a couple of weeks ago and described it as a case of “chickens coming home to roost,” which he said “never did make me sad; they've always made me glad.”

Apparently he meant to suggest that the assassination had some relationship to our government’s actions around the world—and of course he is not the only one to make this connection, though it remains to be investigated.  Needless to say he was roundly condemned by everyone in sight, including his own organization, which censured him and barred him from public speaking for three months.

Oh, well.  In Malcolm’s absence, we have the January Amazing to chew on.  Not surprisingly, given this magazine’s manic-depressive history, it is gristlier and less nutritious than last month’s unusually tasty issue.

Speed-Up!, by Christopher Anvil

When a writer seems to have a lock on a high-paying market and suddenly appears in a low-paying one, one of two things has happened: it’s a pretty bad story, or it has hit one of the higher-paying editor’s blind spots.  Or maybe both.  Christopher Anvil has had 21 stories in the SF mags since January 1960, all but three in Analog.  Yet here he is in Amazing, where he’s never appeared before, with Speed-Up! (exclamation point his, or the editor’s). 

This is a story which juggles multiple elements of dubious plausibility, including not one but two psi talents, and only manages to integrate them by blowing the whole thing up, as the cover illustration suggests.  And one of those elements is a movement that thinks science is too dangerous and should be stopped—and is proven right!  On the other hand, it is a pleasant enough read, unlike some of Anvil’s Analog stories: tightly constrained exercises within the confines of editorial expectations, which create a reading experience reminiscent of anoxia.  Two stars.

The Happiness Rock, by Albert Teichner

Albert R. Teichner’s The Happiness Rock is an annoying morality tale of the oh-so-conventional kind, anoxia compounded by anesthesia.  Officer Cramer and Captain Hartley are exploring the asteroids and, landing on one, find silicon dust that makes people happy upon inhalation, without noticeable impairment or physical addiction.  It proves to be a silicon microorganism, but the silicon seems to be quickly metabolized with no lasting effects.  The corrupt Captain keeps the discovery secret and shuts Cramer up, unknowingly abetted by their cartoon military martinet of a superior, who places Cramer in an unlikely status of Probation that keeps him silent, while the Captain takes the dust to his shady friends on Earth to help him covertly market it. 

Cramer struggles to find a way to blow the whistle on this racket.  Why?  Because this seemingly harmless euphoria must exact some terrible price, just because, and of course it does, quite arbitrarily.  The story goes on for 25 pages, most of them unnecessary: mediocre writing skills in the service of cliched thought.  One star.

Skeleton Men of Jupiter, by Edgar Rice Burroughs

Edgar Rice Burroughs is back (one is tempted to say “from the grave, again”) with Skeleton Men of Jupiter, from the February 1943 issue of Amazing, where it should have stayed.  It is labelled a Classic Reprint, but is not decorated or burdened with the usual Sam Moskowitz introduction.  It is another in the series about John Carter of Mars, or Barsoom, and opens with his being kidnapped by the cadaverous characters of the title. 

Oh no.  Not this again.  I read some of the John Carter books a while back, and that seems to be the main plot motivator of Burroughs’s work: kidnappings and captures, followed by the obligatory escape and rescue efforts.  The skeleton men are led, or served, by a red man of Mars, who explains that he is here because his aristocratic girlfriend Vaja was kidnapp…wait a minute.  This is three pages after the first kidnapping.  How many of these are we going to get in this fifty-plus-page story? 

Slogging on: the red man of Mars, U Dan, tells his sad story of servitude in the cause of Vaja to a faction of Jovians, or Sasoomians in ERB’s cosmology, who of course are seeking world domination; they’ve got Sasoom and now they want Barsoom, and are they evil. U Dan says: “They are fiends. . . . when I learned that Vaja would be tortured and mutilated after Multis Par had had his way with her and even then not be allowed to die but kept for future torture, I weakened and gave in.”

Well, life is too short for this.  Literarily speaking, we have moved from the realm of anoxia and anesthesia to that of morbidity and mortality.  In the spirit of the season, bah humbug.  One star and a pile of dust.

Interstellar Flight, by Ben Bova

Those three are the only fiction items in the magazine, anything else having been crowded out by fifty pages of Burroughs.  There is another article by Ben Bova, Interstellar Flight, in which the usually slightly dull author gets positively giddy.  The blurb warns us: “With factual tongue and a lot of imaginative cheek, our man Bova explores the possibility of [title].” And . . . oh no, he’s everywhere!  The article begins with an imaginary TV show panel with an imaginary SF writer, who begins: “Edgar Rice Burroughs, writing some 50 years ago. . . .”

Averting my eyes briefly, I move on.  SF writer says we must go to the stars, physicist says “Impossible!” and explains why, engineer and astronomer chime in with assorted factual constraints, mathematician gets into the act, and the problems of interstellar travel are laid out reasonably neatly.  Then: “ ‘Excuse me,’ said the astronomer.  ‘Have any of you ever heard of the Bussard Interstellar Ramjet?’ ”

Now that you mention it, no.  It’s actually a pretty interesting idea for sublight but very fast travel: take just enough fuel to get moving fast enough (and build a scoop big enough) to take advantage of the clouds of hydrogen gas floating around most places in the galaxy, and use them as fuel for fusion; the faster you go, the more fuel you can gather, so the faster you can go.  This doesn’t solve the problem of relativistic time dilation—but so what?  Somebody will want to go, and maybe take the whole family! Most satisfyingly, Bova concludes: “Edgar Rice Burroughs, hah!”

Well, that was actually informative, and less dull than usual, though slightly marred by the absence of the customary completely inappropriate Virgil Finlay illustration .  Three stars—the brightest spot in this otherwise bleak landscape. 

Summing up

Feh.

Next month, the editor promises a novella by the capable and prolific John Brunner, who has not previously appeared in the magazine, and, one hopes, may provide enough publishable copy to keep away the shade of ERB.

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Science Fiction/Fantasy

[December 11, 1963] Count every star (1963's Galactic Stars)

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by Gideon Marcus

[Time is running out to get your Worldcon membership!  Register here to be able to vote for the Hugos.]

Goodness, is it the end of the year already?  1963 may go down in the history books as the most eventful year of the 1960s.  The Mercury program wrapped up, the Soviets launched the first woman in space, we lost our President to a sniper's gun, we made progress in the march toward civil equality, Harvard Business School is finally letting women into its MBA program…

What could possibly top the last twelve months?

In any event, it's now December, a time for reflection.  Specifically, reflection on which book, stories, artists, creators, films and TV shows stood out from all the rest.  Yes, folks — it's time for the 1963 edition of The Galactic Stars!

——
Best Poetry
——

Lullaby: 1990,by Sheri S. Eberhart (Galaxy)

Eberhart's song for a post-atomic baby is beautiful and chilling.

Here's Sport Indeed

Ib Melchior's twist on The Bard is greater than the sum of its parts.

The Jazz Machine

If a man can bleed into a saxophone, Richard Matheson's caught the scent.

——
Best Vignette (1-9 pages):
——

The Putnam Tradition, by S. Dorman (Amazing)

Hybrid vigor revitalizes a family of witches.

The Time of Cold, by Mary Carlson (IF)

Heatstroked astronaut and freezing alien need each other to survive.

The Last of the Romany, by Norman Spinrad (Analog)

If the Romany didn't exist, it would be necessary to invent them.

Honorable Mention:

Black Cat Weather, by David R. Bunch (Fantastic)

The Voyage of the "Deborah Pratt", by Miriam Allen DeFord (F&SF)

Countdown, by Julian T. Grow (IF)

Of significance is that three of the six winners in this category are women.  For some reason, when women are published, it tends to be shorter length stuff.

——
Best Short Story (10-19 pages):
——

Castaway, by Charles E. Fritch (Gamma)

An immortal soul outlasts the mortal form.

To See the Invisible Man, by Robert Silverberg (Worlds of Tomorrow)

The worst punishment is to be rendered invisible to society.

On the Fourth Planet, by J. F. Bone (Galaxy)

Mariner 15 almost destroys Martian civilization, but all's well that ends well.

Honorable Mention:

Cornie on the Walls, by Sydney van Scyoc (Fantastic)

Green Magic, by Jack Vance (F&SF)

Fortress Ship and Goodlife, two "Beserker" series stories by Fred Saberhagen (IF and Worlds of Tomorrow)

——
Best Novelette (20-45 pages)
——

Counter Security, by James White (F&SF)

The late-night department store terror isn't what it seems…

Hunter, Come Home, by Richard McKenna (F&SF)

Confounding a human-borne ecological catastrophe on a sentient planet.

The Totally Rich, by John Brunner (Worlds of Tomorrow)

Absolute power breeds…

Honorable Mention:

The Encounter, by J.G. Ballard (Amazing)

Down to the Worlds of Men, by Alexei Panshin (IF)

Bazaar of the Bizarre, by Fritz Leiber (Fantastic)

End Game, by J.G. Ballard (New Worlds)

Unlike last year, which had several seminal stories, this year's winners feel less outstanding.  Not a bad crop, but nothing that will be remembered in a few decades.

——
Best Novella (46+ pages)
——

No Truce with Kings, by Poul Anderson (F&SF)

Integrity and cunning preserve a post-apocalyptic Californian republic.

No Great Magic, by Fritz Leiber (Galaxy)

A shellshocked young woman takes refuge in a Manhattan acting troupe that just happens to be making The Big Time.

Let the Spacemen Beware, by Poul Anderson (Ace Books)

I didn't finish this short novel until last week (on the plane to Washington D.C., no less) so this is the first time you're seeing it.  Nevertheless, this is a love triangle set thousands of years from now.  Divergent evolution has fundamentally changed humanity, culturally and physically, on the various fragments of a shattered interstellar empire.  A fascinating and sensitive read.  Five stars.

Honorable Mention:

Night of the Trolls, by Keith Laumer (Worlds of Tomorrow)

The Visitor at the Zoo, by Damon Knight (Galaxy)

Chocky!, by John Wyndham (Amazing)

——
Best Novel/Serial
——

Cat's Cradle, by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (Holt, Rinehart, and Winston)

A tangle of doomsday, off-beat religion, and satire from an SF writer who composes for the masses.

All the Colors of Darkness, by Lloyd Biggle Jr.

This one slipped under the radar, only getting completed in the last few days.  Thus, I didn't have time to give it a proper review (I'll be better in 1964, I promise).  In brief, the first transcontinental teleporter service is opened up in New York in 1986, sending Americans to big cities on both sides of the Atlantic.  Soon after Universal Transmitting Company's inauguration, passengers start disappearing mid-transit.  Enter Jan Darzek, detective extraordinaire, who is hired by the Board of Directors to find out what or who is causing the vanishings.

Suffice it to say, this story doesn't go where you'd expect it to, and a good half of the book is devoted to some of the best First Contact and alien biology/ethics exploration I've seen in science fiction.  Sure, the human dialogue seems right out of Burke's Law (though that kind of slick banter has its charm, too), but the other stuff is beautiful. 

Four and a half stars, and probably sleeper of the year.

All we Marsmen, by Philip K. Dick (Worlds of Tomorrow)

Dysfunction and altered perception in a masterfully written soap opera on the Red Planet.

Honorable Mention:

Here Gather the Stars, by Cliff Simak (Galaxy)

People of the Sea, by Arthur C. Clarke (Worlds of Tomorrow)

Sign of the Labrys, by Margaret St. Clair (Bantam)

The Game-Players of Titan, by Philip K, Dick (Ace)
(no review; recommended by Gwyn Conaway)

——
Science Fact
——

Just Mooning Around, by Isaac Asimov (F&SF)

Welcome Stranger, by Isaac Asimov (F&SF)

—

Dr. A. now stands pretty much alone.  Willy Ley is phoning them in at Galaxy, Ted Sturgeon's column in (IF) is trivial, and Analog's round robin of bad writers is a joke.  Only Ben Bova at Amazing shows much promise.  Maybe next year.

——
Best Magazine
——

Galaxy (3.12 stars; best story of the month, twice)

Worlds of Tomorrow (3.04 stars; best story of the month, zero (not counting serials))

New Worlds (3.02 stars; best story of the month, zero)

IF (2.9 stars; best story of the month, twice)

Fantastic (2.82 stars; best story of the month, twice)

Fantasy and Science Fiction (2.78 stars; best story of the month, thrice)

Analog (2.78 stars; best story of the month, once (not counting serials))

Amazing (2.68 stars; best story of the month, twice)

and Gamma, with only two issues (3.35, once)

—

Goodness!  Nine magazines, and that doesn't count Science-Fantasy, which yet eludes our coverage.  Fine stuff in all of them at one point or another, though Gamma stands out when it has an issue.  F&SF still tends to feature the most women (even if that's just a pitiful one per month sometimes), but Pohl's and Goldsmith's magazines also do, on occasion.  And Gamma.  But never Analog, which is almost entirely a stag operation these days.

——
Best author(s)
——

Philip K. Dick

Dick came back in a big way last year, and his output, while a bit variable in quality, is generally welcome.

Poul Anderson

Another variable star, but his good work is excellent.

Honorable Mention:

John Brunner

J.G. Ballard

A pair of British authors.

——
Best Artist
——


Ed Emshwiller


Virgil Finlay


George Schelling

—

These three are household names, though this is the first time Schelling has made our list.  EMSH is best known for his covers, Finlay for his interiors.  Schelling goes both ways.

——
Best Dramatic Presentation
——

(These are) The Damned

Horror and radiation in an underground community of unusual children.

The Birds

Hitchcock's avian horror.

The Man with the X-Ray Eyes

As it says on the tin, but a couple of steps up from your typical Drive-In shocker.

The Outer Limits

Turning into a fine new anthology show.

Astro Boy (in its Japanese form, Tetsuwan Atomu)

Honorable Mention:

The Day Mars Invaded Earth

La Jetée

Jason and the Argonauts (review coming soon!)

Scotland Yard jagt Dr. Mabuse (Scotland Yard vs. Dr. Mabuse)

Der kleine dicke Ritter (The little fat knight)

—

I've heard complaints that this year's batch of SF movies was no great shakes.  I'm looking forward to the cinema version of Failsafe next year.

——
Best Fanzine
——

Starspinkle

A chatty little rag, but it comes out often and usually entertains.

Science Fiction Times

Still the gold standard and invaluable for its published books listings.

Galactic Journey

Well, we can't actually nominate ourselves for a star, but Galactic Journey was a finalist for the Hugo!  Please help put us over the top next year!

——

And that's that!  Do let us know if we missed any of your favorites.  Even with a dozen writers interpolating their tastes, decisions still must be based on subjective sensibilities.

Until next year…

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Conventions/Performances, Fashion, music, politics, sports, Magazine/Anthology

December 9, 1963 Indifferent to it all (January 1964 IF)

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by Gideon Marcus

Picking up the pieces

It's been two weeks since President Kennedy was shot in Dallas, and the country is slowly returning to normal (whatever normal is these days).  Jackie has taken the family out of the White House, President Johnson is advancing the first legislation of his social welfare plan, the "Great Society," and all around the nation, streets, parks, and buildings are being renamed in the slain President's honor.  In fact, Cape Canaveral, launching site for all crewed flights, is being christened "Cape Kennedy."

We're still trying to make sense of the events surrounding Kennedy's death.  Within an hour of the shooting, there were two divergent theories as to who shot the President.  CBS reported on the trail that led to Marine-turned-defector, Lee Harvey Oswald.  NBC, on the other hand, interviewed a woman who saw a shooter on a grassy knoll overlooking Dealey Plaza.  On December 5, the FBI determined that Lee Harvey Oswald, acting alone, did the deed.  Of course, Jack Ruby ensured that Oswald would never speak in his own defense.  The seven member "Warren Commission," headed by Chief Justice Earl Warren, has begun a more thorough investigation.  We may never know who shot Kennedy or why.

A eulogy for Kennedy

Yesterday, I appeared at a local venue to present a eulogy for Kennedy and enlighten the audience as to the youthful President's numerous accomplishments.  In the end, we all drank a toast to Jack.  We taped the performance so you can view it even if you couldn't make the event.

Meanwhile, the science fiction magazines continued as if nothing unusual had happened.  This makes sense given the vagaries of production schedules and the need to have work to press months in advance.  Still, it is an eerie feeling to have the world turned upside down and yet see no evidence of turmoil in one's reading material.

Maybe that's a good thing.  One can use stability in crazy times.

In any event, the January 1964 issue of IF, Worlds of Science Fiction was the first sf digest of the new year.  As usual, it contained a mixture of diverting and lousy stories.  Let's take a look:

The January 1964 IF

Three Worlds to Conquer (Part 1 of 2), by Poul Anderson

On the Jovian moon of Ganymede, American colonists warily greet the arrival of the U.S.S. Vega, a battleship out from Earth.  Thanks to a recent civil war in the USA, it is uncertain where the loyalties of the ship's crew lie.  Meanwhile, tens of thousands of miles below, the inhabitants of Jupiter's surface are also preparing for a war of their own.  The common thread to the two stories is the neutrino beam link set up by the human protagonist who makes his home on Jupiter's biggest moon.

It's an interesting set up, but it utterly fails in its execution.  Poul Anderson is the patron saint of unreliability.  On the one hand, he produced some of last year's gratest works, including Let the Spacemen Beware and No Truce with Kings.  On the other, he produced drek like this piece.

Some examples: Anderson likes to wax poetic on technical details.  He spends a full two pages describing what could have been handled with this sentence: "I used a neutrino beam to contact the Jovians; nothing else could penetrate their giant planet's hellish radiation belts or the tens of thousands of thick atmosphere."

Two.  Pages.

Worse, while I applaud Anderson's attempt to depict a Jovian race, he fails in two directions.  Firstly, it's highly doubtful anything could live on the solid surface of Jupiter, if the planet even has one.  If there is a rocky core, its surface gravity must be around 7gs, and the air pressure would be more crushing than the bottom of the Earth's ocean.  Assuming life could stand those conditions, it would have to be something akin to the well-drawn creatures portrayed in Hal Clement's Close to Critical (in the May 1958 Analog).  Instead, Anderson gives us centaurs with quite human characterization and motivation.

The dialogue is stilted.  The writing is uninspired.  And there's enough padding to comfortably sleep on.

One star.  And, oh boy, a whole 'nother part to read in two months.

Mack, by R. J. Butler

Dolphin stories are big right now, from Clarke's People of the Sea to Flipper.  New author, R. J. Butler, gives us another one.  Something about the thwarting of an alien invasion of fish people.  Pleasant enough but it won't stay with you.  A very low three stars.

Personal Monuments, by Theodore Sturgeon

IF's non-fictionalist tells us about six science fiction authors he believes deserve more credit than they get.  He's probably right.  Three stars.

Science-Fantasy Crossword Puzzle, by Jack Sharkey

A welcome feature that is as long as it needs to be (two pages for the game and half a page for the answer).  Three stars.

The Competitors, by Jack B. Lawson

Here is the jewel of the piece.  Humans and androids have evolved in their own directions, each with a stellar sphere of influence.  When humanity comes across an alien race, whose close ties with their own robots make them more than a match for our species, a crotchety old man and a powerful (but subdued) android take on the enemy.

The interactions between human and humanoid robot are priceless and illuminating.  Neither can stand the other, but both see the value in their cooperation.  In the course of their quest, our human protagonist learns the pros and cons of too close integration of humanity and machinery.

Excellent stuff that packs a wallop: Four stars.

The Car Pool, by Frank Banta

Car Pool is a cute little joke in which a gaggle of human petty criminals turns a run-in with the Martian law into a profitable venture for all concerned.  Three stars.

Waterspider, by Philip K. Dick

There is a sub-genre of science fiction known as "fan fiction."  It is written by SF fans (of course) and involves said fans going on wild and fantastic adventures.  Laureled SF author, Philip K. Dick, offers up the fannest of fan fiction in which a pair of folks from the 21st Century employ a time machine to visit a gathering of "pre-cogs" in 1954 to get help with some thorny spaceflight issues.

The gathering is the 1954 World Science Fiction convention in San Francisco, and the pre-cog the Futurians seek is none other than Poul Anderson.  He is kidnapped back to the future, where he runs into mischief before making it back home (with the notes for a story, of course — probably this one).  Along the way, we get an alien's eye view of the various personages who attended SFCon, including A. E. Van Vogt ("so tall, so spiritual"), Ray Bradbury ("a round, pleasant face but his eyes were intense"), and Margaret St. Clair, whom the aliens anachronistically revere for The Scarlet Hexapod, which she hadn't written yet.

It's a bit of silly, self-indulgent fluff saved from banality by the talents of Mr. Dick; I don't know that it merits a quarter of IF's pages.  Three stars.

Summing up

So, yes, it certainly looks like IF will remain steady and true through any crisis.  This means some bad stories, occasional winners, and a lot of filling. 

Things could be worse.

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Book

[December 7, 1963] SF or Not SF?  That Is the Question (They came from mainstream, 1963 edition)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

A raft of non-SF SF

Readers of this column with long memories will recall that, at the end of 1962, we looked at major science fiction and fantasy novels and collections published as mainstream fiction.  The most important such work this year was Kurt Vonnegut's novel Cat's Cradle, already discussed in detail by our own Vicki Lucas. 

Another was The Man Who Fell to Earth by Walter Tevis, best known for his novel The Hustler, adapted into a major film a couple of years ago.  Once again, Ms. Lucas has provided a fine analysis of this book.


The novel is obviously about the game of pool.


The movie poster doesn't seem to have much to do with pool.

Here are two more books I think should be checked out by SF fans who might have missed them:

Planet of the Apes, by Pierre Boulle

A French import offers another example of the blurred lines between science fiction and the literary mainstream.  Pierre Boulle is famous for Le Pont de la Rivière Kwaï (translated into English as The Bridge over the River Kwai, and source of an award-winning movie, with a slight change in the title.)



Don't ask me how over turned into on

This year the author ventured into outer space, with his novel La Planète des singes, known in the United States as Planet of the Apes.

(My sources in the publishing world tell me that the book will be available in the United Kingdom next year, under the title Monkey Planet.)

Boulle's novel begins in the far future, with a couple traveling among the stars.  They discover an old manuscript.  This takes us into a flashback, set in the relatively near future.  Three men journey to an Earth-like planet orbiting the star Betelgeuse.  They discover that intelligent, civilized apes inhabit the world, along with naked, speechless human beings treated as lower animals.  Gorillas are police and military; orangutans are priests and politicians; chimpanzees are scientists and technicians.  The apes are at the same technological level as Twentieth Century Earth, with cities, automobiles, and firearms.  They even smoke tobacco.  The three astronauts meet different fates.  It all leads up to a twist ending.  The author's intent is satiric, showing the reader how little difference there is between people and other primates.  The story may not be very plausible, but it captures the reader's imagination.  Special notice should go to Xan Fielding, who translated both of Boulle's novels into very readable English. 

Three stars.

Glide Path, by Arthur C. Clarke

We've seen how mainstream authors venture into science fiction, sometimes successfully.  It doesn't often happen the other way around.  This year Arthur C. Clarke proved he is just as comfortable writing about the past as he is about the future, with his novel Glide Path.

The story takes place in England during the Second World War.  The protagonist is a young officer in the Royal Air Force.  He is a technician, working on a program known as Ground Controlled Descent.  GCD allows a pilot to land in heavy fog.  Using radar, a controller on the ground talks the pilot down.  The plot is episodic, involving both the new technology and daily life in the RAF.  The author creates a convincing portrait of the time and place, based on his own experiences.  Unlike most war novels, the book lacks scenes of battle.  This may disappoint readers looking for thrilling action.  The most dramatic sequence happens late in the story, when huge amounts of fuel fill the night sky with towering flames, in an attempt to burn off the fog. 

Three stars.

Boulle's science fiction novel is likely to be marketed to readers of mainstream fiction, just as Clarke's war story is likely to be promoted to science fiction fans.  Let us avoid relying solely on arbitrary divisions in literature, and instead keep our eyes open for good reading, no matter how it might be labelled.




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Fashion, music, politics, sports, TV

[December 5, 1963] A Composer After My Own Heart (A theme song for Dr. Who)

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by Victoria Lucas

Tracking down the Dr. Who theme

After reading Mark Yon's column mentioning the British telly program "Doctor Who," I distracted myself from (shudder!) the assassination by trying to find out anything I could about that program, particularly the unique theme music (new music is my bag, you see).

My usual sources are the libraries at the University of Arizona (UA) and in downtown Tucson.  When those turn up empty, I start in on my private network–folks I know.  Someone mentioned that the music was supplied by the BBC's Radiophonic Workshop, who do all BBC sound effects and theme music.  But how to find out more?  And if it’s the music I’m interested in, how can I hear it?  There appear to be no plans to broadcast "Doctor Who" in the US.

OK, now I’m right up against the wall and climbing as fast as I can, because I’m stubborn.  (If you knew my family you’d know I come by it honestly.) And besides, I promised to write this column.  Oh!  My tape network.  I’ve mentioned before, in connection with hearing a radio program I missed, that I’m part of a sort of round robin that sends reel-to-reel tape around for hearing, copying, etc.  (I do sound and other services for local little theater–it comes in handy if there’s some effect I can’t produce or some music I need.) So I phoned my contact, who phoned his contact–etc. 

A gift from London

To my utter surprise and relief, it turned out that there was a package waiting to be sent from England, and I am the ideal person to receive it and send it on.  You know how composers are–well, maybe you don’t. 

Music composition is not a lucrative profession, for the most part.  It’s sort of like the few sports stars who occupy everyone’s attention, and everyone else who isn’t on one’s hometown team is ignored.  This is the age of the 20th-Century Canon, in the sense that "classical" musicians put their faith in a slightly varying list (like a set of sacred books) of composers and music that symphonies play and national radio and television favor.  When you go to a concert, leaving "pop" or jazz alternatives aside, you know you’re usually going to hear at least one of the four B’s (Bach, Brahms, Berlioz, Beethoven).  And a few others, most 19th or early 20th century European "classical" music..  I’m tempted to add a fifth "B" for Borge, but he makes a living playing (not composing) "classical" music, with a few jokes on the side.


Victor Borge in concert 1957

If you don’t compose or play music that sounds like the items on that list, you will have to find some other way to make a living, or live very frugally, squeezing out a few dollars here or there from donations, commissions, or occasional gigs that pay actual money.  Just ask my friend Barney Childs at UA, who holds a PhD in music composition from Stanford.  He teaches English as an assistant professor and composes in his spare time.  His music is often highly dissonant and doesn’t appeal to your average concertgoer, who expects dominant, consonant melodies presented in classical formats by musicians who, in turn, usually expect the same and may be so offended if their sheet music does not conform to what they learned in the conservatory that they will walk out or otherwise disrupt a concert.  Finding performers who will play unusual music can be quite difficult, making electronic music, despite its complicated techniques, attractive, since often the only performer is the composer.


Barney Childs and his ever present pipe

And in this case the composer who is to receive the package is more or less homeless, sleeping on other people’s couches or floors and traveling when and where he is paid to perform.  So I actually feel pretty good about inserting myself into this delivery process, quite aside from being able to listen to the very latest in (as it turns out) electronic music.  I’m responsible for finding out where he is from the local contacts I was given (too much long-distance calling for folks in England) and sending it on.  Best of all, the tape I just received and played has a sheet of (legible!) comments on the music and even some words about and a photograph of the performer, with her equipment. 

Meet the maker


Delia Darbyshire on tape machines

According to the comments, it seems that someone by the name of Ron Grainer composed music for the "Doctor Who" theme.  Another somebody–by the name of Delia Derbyshire (what a veddy British name that is!)–realized it as electronic music in the Workshop!

The anonymous writer also says that Derbyshire wasn't allowed to compose music on her job for the Workshop, but she was allowed to do "special sound by BBC Radiophonic Workshop," which apparently is anything she wants to do.  What a job!  But it sounds as it if was lot of trouble and some luck to get there, and some knocking around, because Derbyshire had a hard time finding anywhere she could use her degree in mathematics and music.  For instance, she was told that Decca Records wouldn't employ women, and … well, whoever heard of a woman composer?


Clara Schumann

I wanted to compose too after I learned to transpose while studying piano, but I didn't know anybody who had heard of a woman composer, and that includes my mother and aunt, harpists who had performed in the concert circuit.  My father was not supportive, although my mother always indulged me.  Without specific encouragement to realize my dream, however, I saw my future stretching before me, always playing other peoples' music that for the most part bored me, and I didn't like that future.  So I stopped studying music and started looking for some other way to make a living.  (Mind you, I was 12, as you might see in my previous column.)


Composer Luciano Berio

Derbyshire, on the other hand, had an opportunity to work with Luciano Berio last year when they attended the famous Dartington Summer School in Devon, England, so she was able to hobnob with at least one VIP of new music decidedly not in the Canon.  I wonder if this was the fulfillment of a dream for her.  It would be for me.

Behind every great man…


Ron Grainer

There is a brief note in the comments that made me laugh aloud: Derbyshire is so clever that when Grainer heard her music for "Doctor Who" and delightedly asked, "Did I really write this?", she answered "Most of it."

The same page in the package shows a small drawing of the composer’s music described as "swoops," and nothing more.  So there was a lot of room to improvise.  Come to think of it, the lack of a staff and apparent use of graphic notation remind me of John Cage, who used a transparency with lines to overlay dots and lines in his "Fontana Mix."  Talk about its being hard to find performers when your music is unusual, think of Cage’s predicament after the debut of his last year’s "4’ 33" after which many people consider him a joke!  On the other hand, put yourself in the position of a classically trained musician confronted with that composition’s page of sheet music indicating three parts, each declaring only "Tacet" (musicianese for "silence").  Was Grainer "avant garde," too?

I have to wonder whether what Derbyshire meant by her remark about his composition was that the rest of "most of it" was written by her, or by her assistant Dick Mills, a sound engineer who I understand is responsible for sound effects for a programme (note British spelling) called "The Goon Show."  Something tells me I would be surprised by the truth.


Dick Mills on the left

I can't imagine getting to England anytime soon–especially since I’m paying for the next leg of the journey for a piece of tape and its wrapping, a photo and a piece of paper, as well as some long distance charges.  But maybe I'll get to San Francisco again before long, where there's a place I keep hearing about called the Tape Music Center.  If I can’t make electronic music, maybe I can at least listen to it.  This little piece I received today, which I had to use a lot of leader to bind to a reel for enough time to play it, is a delight!




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TV

[Dec. 3, 1963] Dr. Who?  An Adventure In Space And Time

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By Jessica Holmes

A New Science Fiction Series Lands At The BBC

Hello, class! Some of you may remember me from last month's article on the Arecibo observatory. For those who don't: hello, my name is Jessica, and I am an artist who likes science.

A lot of people think of the arts and sciences as being at odds with one another, and although I lean towards the arts, I don't see why they have to be separated. The structure of a DNA helix is like a work of sculpture. The exquisite tile patterns found in buildings around the Islamic world are designed according to mathematical principles. Science can be art, and art can be science. So, why am I waffling on about this? Because I believe that the adventure we're about to embark on will prove my assertion.

Continue reading [Dec. 3, 1963] Dr. Who?  An Adventure In Space And Time →

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55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction