In this January's Amazing, on page 138, there is an editorial—A Word from the Editor, it says, bylined Barry N. Malzberg—which suggests a different direction (or maybe I should just say “a direction”) for this magazine. First is some news. There will be no letter column; Malzberg would rather use the space for a story. Second, “the reprint policy of these magazines will continue for the foreseeable future,” per the publisher, but “A large and increasing percentage of space however will be used for new stories.”
by Johnny Bruck
Pointedly, the editor adds, “it is my contention that the majority of modern magazine science-fiction is ill-written, ill-characterized, ill-conceived and so excruciatingly dull as to make me question the ability of the writers to stay awake during its composition, much less the readers during its absorption. Tied to an older tradition and nailed down stylistically to the worst hack cliches of three decades past, science-fiction has only within the past five or six years begun to emerge from its category trap only because certain intelligent and dedicated people have had the courage to wreck it so that it could crawl free. . . . I propose that within its editorial limits and budget, Amazing and Fantastic will do what they can to assist this rebirth—one would rather call it transmutation—of the category and we will try to be hospitable to a kind of story which is still having difficulty finding publication in this country.”
Sounds good to me! This brave manifesto is only slightly undermined by the familiar production chaos of the magazine. It is not acknowledged on the table of contents, and does not appear in the usual place for an editorial, at the beginning of the magazine. Instead, there appears a piece labelled Editorial by Robert Silverberg, S-F and Escape Literature, which (though touted as “NEW” on the cover) actually dates from six years ago, when it appeared as a guest editorial in the August 1962 issue of the British New Worlds. Silverberg is also listed as Associate Editor.
Silverberg’s piece briskly disposes of the “escapist” critique of SF, pointing out that all literature is escape literature; it’s just a matter of where you’re escaping, and how well the escape is executed. “The human organism, if it is to grow and prosper, needs change, refreshment, periodic escape.”
The other non-fiction in the issue includes another Leon Stover “Science of Man” article (see below). There is the by-now-usual book review column, attributed to James Blish on the contents page, with reviews by his pseudonym William Atheling, Jr. (mixed feelings about Clarke’s 2001 novelization, praise for D.G. Compton and Alexei Panshin); by Panshin (praise for R.A. Lafferty); and by editor Malzberg (praise for the new edition of Damon Knight’s In Search of Wonder, mixed feelings about Alva Rogers’s fan tribute A Requiem for Astounding). There is also a movie review, by Lawrence Janifer, of Rosemary’s Baby; he finds it well done but dull, and—in an unexpected juxtaposition—quotes Virginia Woolf: “But how if life should refuse to reside there?”
We All Died at Breakaway Station, by Richard C. Meredith
by Dan Adkins
The major piece of new fiction is Richard C. Meredith’s We All Died at Breakaway Station, first part of a two-part serial. As usual I will read and review it when it’s complete; a quick rummage reveals it’s a space war story whose plot would probably have been right at home in Planet Stories, but which looks much grimmer than the pulps allowed.
Temple of Sorrow, by Dean R. Koontz
Dean R. Koontz’s novelet Temple of Sorrow is a breezily parodic procession of stock genre elements—the protagonist with a mission (“My name is Mandarin. Felix Mandarin.”—from “International,” we later learn), accompanied by Theseus, his Mutie bodyguard (actually a bear, “developed” in the Artificial Wombs), to pierce the veil of a powerful religious cult (with overtones of the one in Heinlein’s “—If This Goes On,” such as the omnipresence of Naked Angels, female of course). In this post-nuclear war world, the Temple of the Form predicts the Second Coming of the Form (the mushroom cloud), and it seems is bent on bringing it about by stealing the world’s last atom bomb.
by Jeff Jones
Felix is caught and reduced to near-mindless servitude, but his conditioning is broken by his realization of the Bishop’s sadistic plans for the Angel who has caught Felix’s fancy. Rejoined by Theseus, who had fled to the wilderness but returned just in time, Felix and the Angel Jacinda fight their way to the Temple’s Innermost Ring (cameo appearance by a giant spider along the way). And there’s super-science! Felix figures out that the Innermost Rings of all the many Temples worldwide are interdimensionally connected, so if the Temple bigs can set off a bomb in one Ring, the explosion will be replicated in all the others! Conservation of energy be damned.
So they hasten from Ring to Ring, find the bomb, and disarm it. “Any child could disarm an A-bomb if he has read his history and had an instructor in P.O.D. who allowed him to practice live on dummies.” Felix proposes to the Angel Jacinda. Theseus has somehow gained human intelligence during the interdimensional trek. Exit, wisecracking. Or, as the editor put it: “Tied to an older tradition and nailed down stylistically to the worst hack cliches of three decades past . . . .” Good sarcastic fun. Three stars.
And here is the writer half the readership has long seemed to hate, in his second consecutive issue—David R. Bunch. Editor Malzberg says, “I think that Bunch is one of the twenty or thirty best writers of the short-story in English.” I might pick a slightly higher number, but I’m happy he is again welcome here. But this one is called How It Ended—“it” being Moderan, scene of a procession of stories about the Strongholders, their new-metal enhancements held together by the flesh-strips that are all that remain of their human bodies, fighting their endless wars in splendid isolation from each other. Can it really be the end? Time will tell whether Bunch can resist returning to the scene.
But to the matter at hand: during the Summer Truces following the Spring Wars, someone looses a wump-bomb, which is strong stuff indeed. This sets off a new war which is only ended when the narrator releases the GRANDY WUMP (sic), which puts an end to Moderan entirely. This is his confession, rendered onto a tape which may or may not ever be listened to, complete with his litany of self-justification. The inexorable logic leading to complete destruction may be familiar to those who frequent newspapers and government briefing papers. It’s Bunch as usual and you either like it or you don’t. I mostly do, with qualifications, but this one goes on a little too long for my taste. Three stars.
Moving to the reprints, John Wyndham is here with Confidence Trick (from Fantastic, July-August 1953), about some people going home on a commuter train who discover that it is the train to Hell. They escape their fate only through the loudly expressed disbelief of one abrasive young man, after which the whole illusion falls apart. It is suggested that social institutions such as the banking system are not too different from religions in their reliance on unquestioning faith. It’s smoothly written but becomes a bit heavy-handedly didactic after its comic beginning. Two stars.
In Algis Budrys’s Dream of Victory (Amazing, August/September 1953)—a “complete short novel” at 26 large-print pages—a war has left the world devastated and depopulated. Androids were developed to provide a work force. They are apparently human in all respects except for standardization of features (which they can pay to have fixed), and they can’t reproduce. Fuoss, an android, is not happy about this, or about the fact that there seems to be growing discrimination against androids; he can get jobs but somehow always loses them, and his successful android lawyer friend tells him the creation of androids has now stopped.
by Ed Emshwiller
Fuoss has a recurring dream about a woman bearing his child. He finds his situation so frustrating that he acts in progressively more self-destructive ways, driving away his android wife, in part because he flaunts his affair with a human woman. Then he loses his latest job, drinks a lot, and his girlfriend throws him out. When he comes back and finds out she has taken up with somebody else, he smashes a whiskey bottle and cuts her throat after she dismisses his delusional babble that she will have his child. His lawyer friend (ex-friend by now) visits him in jail and chastises him for the harm he has done to the android cause. “ ‘Is she dead?’ he asked hopefully.”
I’m not sure what to make of this story. Budrys has commented on it in the introduction to his second collection, Budrys’ [sic] Inferno (UK edition retitled The Furious Future): “Dream of Victory is the first novelette I ever wrote. . . . Dream of Victory, as I was writing it, seemed a free-wheeling piece of technical bedazzlement. Happily, most of the experimentation in it was elevated to more comprehensible levels by Howard Browne, the quietly competent editor who bought it and with his pencil made me look a little more mature than I really was. There is a certain temporary value to a young writer in coming on as a prose innovator and pyrotechnician; I think there is more for the reader and, in the course of time, more for the writer in letting the story speak for itself.”
So, all procedure and no substance about this story in which the protagonist responds to his emotional travail by murdering his girlfriend. I wonder if it is supposed to be a displaced commentary on race relations, especially since the plot seems to bear some similarity to that of Richard Wright’s Native Son (a book I haven’t read and know only second-hand). Did Budrys have it in mind? Probably not. Probably this is just another example of a writer who can’t think of a more imaginative way to resolve the situation of unbearable frustration he has created than with hideous violence against women—not altogether unrealistically, I have to acknowledge, since I do read the newspapers.
It’s tempting to say “nice try,” but it really isn’t; the best thing to say is that Budrys got better later, at least a lot of the time, in finding better resolutions (or accepting no resolution) for the intolerable situations he was so good at coming up with. One star for substance, three for execution (though as Budrys says, much credit goes to editor Browne for that). Split the difference.
Don't Come to Mars, by Henry Hasse
by Leo Morey
Henry Hasse’s Don’t Come to Mars (Fantastic Adventures, April 1950) is a large comedown from his goofily grandiose classic He Who Shrank, reprinted in the last issue. Dr. Rahm awakes to see himself walking out the door, and looks down to see he has a whole new tentacled body. Aiiko the Martian has borrowed his by long-distance projection. Turns out Aiiko is trying to sabotage Dr. Rahm’s life work developing space travel to Mars so humans will avoid the terrible fate that has befallen the Martians. It’s routinely executed and reads more like a story from the ‘30s than one from 1950. Two stars.
Science of Man: Lies and the Evolution of Language, by Leon E. Stover
Leon E. Stover’s “Science of Man” article is Lies and the Evolution of Language, which displays Stover’s faults even more prominently than his earlier articles. The subject is certainly interesting, but the article is mostly a turgid mass of assertions with very little attempt to convince the reader to believe them or to provide any basis to assess them. This is less of a problem when he is addressing current or recent times, of which most readers will have some direct knowledge or experience. But consider: “Without a doubt the first humans replayed the action of the day around the campfire at night in an unabashed display of ceremonial boasting. And doubtlessly manly valor was an entrance requirement into the hunting team, all the more incentive for a male to boast about what he had seen and done so as to be allowed to become ‘one of the boys.’ ” Certainly plausible, makes sense, but “without a doubt”? Without more support than Stover provides, I’ve got a doubt.
Some of Stover’s assertions are more than doubtful, such as his claim that animals cannot lie. In fact there is considerable deception in the animal world. For example, some birds feign broken wings and walk away from their nests, apparently seeking to distract predators from their eggs or young. Stover might have an argument that that behavior is not linguistic enough to be relevant to the discussion. But he doesn’t make it, or acknowledge the question. Two stars.
Summing Up
So, another mixed-bag issue of Amazing (excluding the serial, to be assessed next time), but one that is promising—a word I must have used a dozen times about this magazine, but this time there's an actual promise about what the new editor plans to do with it. As always, we'll see.
[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]
It’s official. As if it weren’t already clear from the events in Hungary in 1956 and Czechoslovakia over the summer, the Soviet Union has now openly declared that no communist nation in the Soviet sphere of influence will be allowed to go its own way or engage in any sort of reforms not approved by Moscow. Addressing the Congress of the Polish United Workers’ Party on November 13th, Soviet General Secretary Leonid Brezhnev stated, “When forces that are hostile to socialism try to turn the development of some socialist country towards capitalism, it becomes not only a problem of the country concerned, but a common problem and concern of all socialist countries.” That’s the justification for military intervention wherever the U.S.S.R. feels like, especially within the Warsaw Pact. We all know who will get to decide if something is a move towards capitalism.
Leonid Brezhnev after addressing the Soviet Central Committee earlier this year.
The backlash has already begun. After years of strained relations, Albania formally withdrew from the Warsaw Pact in protest over the invasion of Czechoslovakia. Of course, they have Yugoslavia as a buffer state, and the close proximity of Greece and Italy probably also offer a deterrent. As we go to press, Romanian leader Nicolae Ceaușescu has publicly condemned this new doctrine as a violation of the Warsaw Treaty. Only time will tell how this shakes out.
Forget the past
Forgetfulness seems to be the theme of this month’s IF. The issue is book-ended with stories featuring protagonists with amnesia, while two of the remaining three stories offer a man who doesn’t know his name and an entire year blotted from everybody’s memory.
Just some random art not associated with any of the stories. Art by Chaffee
A man awakens naked in a field with no idea who he is or how he got there. It proves to be a pleasant place about 50 miles in circumference, surrounded by a dome of gray mist. He dubs the place Limbo. Set in the dome, about 20 feet above ground are six ovals that he believes to be portals. Eventually, he also finds a house with a well-stocked kitchen, a library full of books (printed on Earth, all before 3646), and three bedrooms, two of which have women’s clothes in them.
In the basement, he finds three coffins with windows set in the lids. One is empty and is labeled Rex, giving him a name. The second, labeled Regina, contains a very pretty woman, while the third holds a beautiful woman apparently named Venus. Regina comes to, already knowing her name and also with the ability to know where anything (and anyone) is.
After a time, Rex passes through one of the gateways. He discovers a huge city called Mercury, which is laden with a sense of doom that depresses all its inhabitants. On his return, Rex discovers a freezing sub-basement with clues that the gateways are portals to other planets. Regina deliberately triggers Venus’s awakening, and the three get along fairly well, without Venus interfering in the relationship between the other two.
As this installment ends, Rex and Regina pass through another portal and find themselves on a hot, desert planet. While investigating an immigration office, Rex blunders and the police – or worse – are summoned. To be concluded.
Rex investigates the first portal. Art by Jack Gaughan
McIntosh has given us an interesting set-up and an intriguing mystery, but I don’t see how he’s going to extract Rex and Regina from their current predicament and explore four more worlds in just one installment. I’m eager to see the rest of this. But one thing really stood out to me. Take note Robert Silverberg and many other authors, in and out of science fiction: McIntosh makes very clear to the reader that Regina is quite petite without once referring to her breasts or hips, nor is there anything describing her as childlike. He does describe her once as a girl in comparison to Venus, but Rex clearly views her as an adult. Similarly, we know that Venus is voluptuous without any reference to her secondary sexual characteristics.
A high three stars.
The Year Dot, by William F. Temple
Bart Cabot grew up an orphan in a small town. His fascination with the X-men in the next valley repeatedly gets him into trouble with the Sheriff. He’s also curious why the year 1978 is missing from all the records in the library, but nobody else seems to see a discrepancy. Finally, he pushes the Sheriff too far, and only intervention by one of the X-men saves his life. Bart learns a lot about what’s going on and has a choice to make.
Doesn’t look like any of the X-Men I know. Beast maybe? Art by Brock
The story’s well told, if nothing special. There’s a strong implication that what’s going on is global, but the focus of the story makes it feel entirely local. The missing year thing doesn’t make a lot of sense, either. And calling the aliens in the next valley X-men is just confusing to anyone with a passing knowledge of comic books.
Three stars.
If… and When, by Lester del Rey
This month, Lester del Rey looks at changes in agriculture. Sure, we have things like corn that produces large, uniform ears, strains of plants that grow in soil that was once unsuitable, and fertilizers to replenish exhausted fields. But do those fertilizers replenish minerals that occur in vanishingly small amounts; do the new strains take up those sorts of minerals, if the soils they now grow in even have them? Maybe that will affect taste (ask a vintner about how the tiniest variation can affect their product) or maybe the lack of those “unimportant” minerals will have unsuspected health effects. Lots to think about.
Zelazny picks up where Creatures of Light left off. Wakim, the servant of Anubis, desperate to find out who he once was, and the Prince Who Was A Thousand do battle in time. Eventually they are transported to another planet, where Horus, son of Osiris, comes also seeking to kill the Prince, as does the Steel General, who supports the Prince merely because he is the underdog.
Anubis doesn’t want Wakim to learn who he really is. Art by P. Reiber
Now Zelazny has me hooked. The intermediate material following Wakim leaving the House of the Dead that weakened the previous story might have fit better at the beginning here, but this works without that, too. Although the ending is something of a cliff-hanger, there’s enough here to make a complete tale, and it’s a doozy. Poetic, mythic, Zelazny at his best.
A high four stars.
Operation High Time, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg
Simes are an offshoot of humanity who must take life energy from normal humans, or Gens (short for Generators; Sime from symbiote maybe?). The process was once fatal, but the two groups have found ways to live together, with many restrictions on the Simes. Protagonist Farris is a Sime who has found a way to ease some of those restrictions. His lobbying in Washington leads to his strongest opponent in the Senate being kidnapped. Following a hunch, Farris is kidnapped as well.
Farris is imprisoned with his political nemesis. Art by Brand
Over the last couple of months, I’ve been complaining about badly-done exposition by authors who should know better. This month’s new author shows how to do it right. The exposition in this story comes in small, natural chunks, giving just enough for the story to make sense while hinting at much more. The rest of the story is also done quite well. This is probably the best IF First debut since Larry Niven.
A very high three stars.
In the Shield, by Dean R. Koontz
The latest from Dean Koontz starts off with an amnesiac man in a spaceship filled with weapons that have no maker’s marks on them. In short order he winds up with two unexpected companions and then follows post-hypnotic orders to go to one of the main worlds in the galaxy.
That was the look on my face at about this point in the story. Art by Reese
The story starts off fine, but quickly brings in two astronomically unlikely coincidences, and then goes completely off the rails, descending into a sophomoric attack on religion. Koontz keeps missing the mark, but he does aim high. Maybe he should aim a little lower until he has the chops to match his ambition.
Right on the line between two and three stars. I’ll be generous and give it the lowest three stars possible.
Authorgraphs: An Interview with Roger Zelazny
Zelazny on himself, science fiction, writing and so on. According to the editor’s blurb this was transcribed directly from a recording of him answering questions (which we don’t get). Interesting and informative, if a bit shallow.
Three stars.
I wonder if he’s always this dapper. Art by Gaughan
Summing up
Yet another middle-of-the-road issue. I’m starting to come around on McIntosh, but he’s on probation until next month. Zelazny managed to pull me in, where I had been less interested, and we got a very impressive debut from an author I hope to see more of. But there are times when I feel like Galaxy gets all the choice stories, and IF is left with the dregs.
Less than two months ago, the Soviets sent Zond 5 on a trip around the Moon in a precursor to a manned flight. And on November 18, Zond 6 repeated the feat with, apparently, even more success. There was some suggestion that Zond 5's reentry and descent was fraught with issues. No such trouble (reported) on Zond 6.
A photo of the Earth from the vicinity of the Moon returned by Zond 6.
The USSR now says (or say, if you're British) that they might well have a manned flight to lunar orbit by early December. This is even as NASA prepares to send Apollo 8 on a circumlunar course on December 21. Yes, it sure seems like the breakneck Space Race is on again. May it claim no more lives in the process.
In the far future, Earth's one-world government has collapsed, leaving a plethora of princely states to war with indifferent ferocity. Further out, the settled asteroids, turned into giant space ships, placidly orbit the Sun, maintaining civilized culture as well as they can. And beyond lie the alien-settled "out planets".
After an unprofitable eight-year cruise, Jake Hiskey, commander of the Prideful Sue, has a jackpot plan. He is smuggling in a ship of Rilfs—humanoids with a deadly, natural weapon that kills all animals within a twenty-mile radiius—to serve as mercenaries on Earth. But to get them to Terra, he must first stage on an asteroid. The obvious choice is the one that the sister of Harold, the Sue's navigator, calls home.
The catch: the Rilf who goes by the name McNulty insists that no one know that the Rilfs are on the asteroid. That means all potential witnesses must be eliminated. This includes all of the asteroid's residents and, by extension, Harold, since he is afflicted with a conscience.
Well, Harold is no fool, and he susses out the plan just at its moment of murderous implementation. Can one unarmed man thwart his captain's evil scheme before the asteroid's population is slaughtered? And are the people on the giant rock as effete and defenseless as they seem?
by Kelly Freas
This is a riproaring piece, filled with well-executed action and interesting concepts. If anything, it's a bit too short, reading like two sections of a more fleshed-out novel. The concepts revealed at the end, when we learn the true purpose of the asteroid, are explained too quickly, and in retrospect.
I have to wonder if Schmitz needed to sell this before it was quite ready; I hope an expanded version makes its way to, say, an Ace Double.
Four stars.
A Learning Experience, by Theodore Litwell
by Leo Summers
A fellow signs up for a correspondence course and gets a Type III tutor robot trained at the Treblinka Institute for the sadistically inclined. While the mechanical's browbeatings do get the student to buckle down, he ultimately decides he will get more satisfaction from tearing the robot bolt from bolt.
Just as he is expected to…
Do you have a child who has trouble focusing? This may be just what the tyke needs. Just be ready to sweep the floor afterwards.
Three stars.
The Form Master, by Jack Wodhams
by Kelly Freas
The more complicated a bureaucracy, the better chance someone will find a way to take advantage of it. But he who lives by the forged form may ultimately die by the forged form.
At first, I thought this piece was going to be a celebration of the "rugged individualist" who comes up with a clever justification for stealing from his neighbors. It's not, but it's still kind of tedious.
Two stars.
The Reluctant Ambassadors, by Stanley Schmidt
by Kelly Freas
Humanity's first colony is on a marginal planet of Alpha Centauri. It has been failing for decades. Only one of the two sublight colony ships made it, and there just aren't enough people to make a go of things, especially since the planet's weird orbit takes it between the two bright stars of the trinary, resulting in massive swings of temperatures over the decades.
When FTL drive is invented, a follow-up ship is dispatched from Earth to check on the settlement. On the way, its crew note that hyperspace, which is supposed to be empty, appears to have inhabitants…or at least something is emitting a mysterious glow off the port bow. Once at Centauri, apart from the much bedraggled but doughty Terrans, the relief crew also find evidence of alien visitation, which apparently has been going on since the start of the colony. The colonists had been reluctant to investigate the aliens too deeply as the extraterrestrials had done their best not to be seen. Thus, the first faster-than-light reconnaissance turns into a kind of ambassadorial mission as the captain of the relief vessel heads off in search of the aliens not only to learn their secrets (and the reason for their secrecy) but also to find clues as to the disappearance of the other colony ship.
This is solid, SFnal entertainment, if a little dry and drawn out, and with aliens who are much too humanoid for anything but Star Trek. I like the setting, though.
Three stars.
Situation of Some Gravity, by Joseph F. Goodavage
Analog had been doing so well with its nonfiction articles of late that the appearance of this one is highly disappointing. It's a screed about how the magnetohydrodynamics of the planets affects physical phenomena and people as much as, if not more than, gravity, and that's why astrology works.
I think that's what Goodavage is trying to say. It's certainly what editor Campbell says (in a two-page preface) what Goodavage is trying to say. I found the thing incomprehensible and unreadable, not to mention offensive.
One star.
Pipeline, by Joe Poyer
by Leo Summers
The year is 1985, and the Earth is entering the next Ice Age. Its most immediate impact is a subtle shift in weather patterns, plunging America's industrial northeast into drought. Luckily, engineering has a solution: a great Canadian aqueduct to ship water from the frozen North to the thirsty Eastern Seaboard.
But there are folks not too happy about the project, and just before the pipeline's inaugural activation, saboteurs break the conduit, threatening forty miles of tubing. It is up to a small band of engineers to fix the breach and stop the terrorists before it's too late.
Poyer has written a competent "edge-of-tomorrow" thriller. We never find out just who was behind the sabotage. Strongly implicated is some combination of Japanese businessmen and right-wing Birch-alikes (my suspicions went with some left-wing group like a militant Sierra Club). Anyway, I think this is the first time I've seen Japan as the bogeyman in an SF story. It's a novel twist, and given how much is Made in Japan these days, perhaps a valid prognostication.
Three stars.
Once again with the computers
Here we are at the end of the year for magazines, and it's been a rather middle-of-the-road month. Analog finishes at a mediocre 2.7 star rating, beating out Orbit 4 (2.7), Fantastic (2.6), and IF (2.6)
Women wrote about 9% of the new fiction published this month, and you could fit all the 4/5 star stories in two magazines out of the seven publications (including one anthology). Really, that sums up the state of magazine SF in general—some excellent stuff, a lot of mediocrity, and attention now focused on television and novels.
That said, it's still clear that magazines contribute a lot to the genre, particularly in the area of short fiction. Certainly Michael Moorcock thinks so, as he is composing a book a week just to keep New Worlds afloat with his own money! That he manages to turn out pretty good stuff in a single tea-fueled draft is a feat that makes him the British Silverbob…with fewer descriptions of underaged bosoms.
So, bid a fond adieu to 1968, at least in cover dates, and let's see what 1969 has in store!
William Shatner waves to the crowd at the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade in New York…but he might also be saying goodbye to 1968
This week's Star Trek began with Kirk, Spock, and McCoy beaming down to a planet in response to a medical distress signal. The sensors showed no signs of life, indicating that the Enterprise desperately needs new sensors, as this is the third time in recent weeks the sensors have failed to show the people who would soon be assaulting our crew.
They met the "Platonians," the remnants of a near-immortal race that idolized Earth's ancient Greek civilization and patterned their own after it—or at least, patterned their outfits after it. They have extremely powerful psychokinetic abilities but no infection resistance whatsoever.
Are we to believe these people have never gotten a papercut in the last 2500 years? I shall endeavor to convince myself that their susceptibility to infection is a recent development—that for thousands of years, their environment lacked the bacteria that caused infections in open wounds. Now that it's somehow evolved on their planet, they have no defenses against it.
The Platonians were very grateful for McCoy's medical assistance—so much so that they insisted he stay with them to treat any future injuries they may have. And rather than petition the Federation for volunteer doctors who would love to talk Greek philosophy, they decided that kidnapping with a side of torture and mockery was the way to go.
Welcome to Platonius; your compliance with the local dress code is appreciated—and mandatory.
Plato recognized four primary virtues: Courage, moderation, wisdom and justice. Yet we see none of these in their society—if you can call a group of fewer than four dozen a "society," with no children and no growth or change. (Kirk might've called them out for being stagnant, if he weren't busy calling them out for being despotic bullies.) Instead, we have a pack of apathetic lotus-eaters with a penchant for ridiculing anyone who doesn't have their power.
I saw the Platonians and thought, I am so damned tired of stories where psychic powers turn everyone who has them into bratty tyrants. I was delighted to realize that such is not the story here.
Parmen called himself a "philosopher-king," but he was neither. We saw no hint of philosophical insight from him, and no rulership other than "I am stronger than everyone else, so do what I say or I will kill you." He claimed to live in "peace and harmony," but his "peace" was nothing but the threat of force and humiliation.
Alexander, treated as a slave and court buffoon, had the best understanding of Plato's principles. He immediately argued in favor of the strangers' lives, and was punished for it—which he had to know would happen. He did not want access to the power that had tortured him for so long; he only wanted to escape it. He was understandably enraged with Parmen and wanted to kill him, but when Kirk asked, "Do you want to be like him?"—he immediately dropped the knife.
Alexander warned Kirk about the conditions on Platonius, heedless of any future punishment. He wanted very much to get away from the people who had tortured him for thousands of years, but he did not try to dissuade Kirk and his crew from acquiring the same power that had been used against him for so long. He recognized that corruption is not a matter of power itself, but how it's used, and he had enough faith left to trust his new allies. And when he had a chance at revenge—he turned away from it.
Kirk talks Alexander out of a suicide mission.
Parmen said, "We can all be counted upon to live down to our lowest impulses"—but that's not true. Alexander declined the opportunities for both power and murder. Parmen wants to believe that anyone would turn into a tyrant if given enough raw power… because he doesn't want to acknowledge that the man his court keeps as "a buffoon" has a better understanding of Plato's principles than him and his thirty-odd courtiers.
I can imagine that, in the future, the Platonians are in for some shocking changes. Kirk's report will bring visitors to a planet where psychokinesis is available a few hours after receiving an injection—think of the construction projects that could be done, with no need for clamps or glue to hold pieces in place while they are being assembled. Think of the art that could be created by multiple brushes working together from different angles. Think of the surgeries, with no hands getting in the way, no tool handles blocking the surgeon's view, no gauze compresses interfering with the stitching, because the nurse can pinch the blood vessels shut with a thought.
…And then think of what the Platonians had instead: A sterile world of indolence and petty cruelty.
Five stars.
Katharsis
by Mx. Blue Cathey-Thiele
We get multiple time references in this episode, and many of them are incompatible. They arrived on this planet 2500 years ago, but Philana is only 2300. She was 117 and Parmen 128 when they married. The voyages of the Enterprise take place about two centuries after 1990, according to Kirk in Space Seed, so none of those times match with Plato's lifespan. This is frustrating at first glance, but now I'm inclined to think it works. The Platonians live in a stylized world, based on the appearances and ideas that they have handpicked from Greece and Greek philosophy. It's a facade, set dressing that props up their own personal desires and calls it harmony. I suggest that the infection that McCoy treats is also a ploy, one that Alexander tried to protest before Philana cut him off.
Platonians make the crew move and speak – this is either an incredibly complex set of movements all being controlled at once to move the mouth, lungs, and vocal chords to shape sounds, or a manipulation of the brain itself to force those actions. If they have that much control over bodies that belong to others, surely they can control their own and facilitate healing, or prevent infection from taking hold. Alexander would not necessarily know this though, as he doesn't have that ability, and the others constantly reinforce their control over him. As far as he knows, they did last thousands of years without injury.
Whether the anniversary Parmen references is actually that of 2500 years or not, it is all set up as a performance. He and Philana lead the Platonians in a voyeuristic farce, torturing the crew explicitly and more subtly by making them think that there was ever a choice to leave at all, making McCoy feel complicit in his friends’ pain.
Convulsed with agony, Kirk fights his manipulation
“Tragedy is an imitation of an action that is admirable, complete (composed of an introduction, a middle part and an ending), and possesses magnitude; in language made pleasurable, each of its species separated in different parts; performed by actors, not through narration; effecting through pity and fear the purification of such emotions.” Aristotle, the Poetics
The spectacle of it all reflects aspects of Greek tragedies, interestingly, something Plato's student Aristotle had many thoughts on and wrote about in a reply to Plato's Republic. Through the pain of the “playthings”, Philana and Parmen draw satisfaction. The landing party takes center stage, suitable protagonists for a tragedy, noble and with character traits to be exploited; McCoy's empathy, Spock's stoicism and self control, Kirk's confidence and pride. Uhura's bravery in facing fear and Christine's affection are also twisted to cut right where they are most vulnerable. While the Platonians hardly seem to feel any pity for their victims, they certainly gain an emotional release from the suffering they inflict.
Would I say I enjoyed this episode? Not much of it! But it was a good episode, the way that the crew and Alexander reached out to each other in actions and words amidst the pain was powerful.
5 stars
Refuting Acton's Dictum
by Gideon Marcus
"Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely"
In many ways, "Plato's Stepchildren" is "The Menagerie" redux: a race of humanoids rendered decadent by their superpowers. "Stepchildren" takes things a step further. The big-headed Talosians were at least willing to do things on their own behalf, including zapping Pike unconscious with a sleepy staff. The Platonians refuse to lift a finger, even to that final confrontation between Parmen and Kirk. How easy it would have been for the 37 Platonians to simply throw something at Kirk, or to step forward for personal combat. Yet they all shrink at the image of Alexander with a knife.
Perhaps it is the nature of the power that so atrophies the Platonians. After all, the Talosian power was that of illusion. The Platonians really do have physical mastery of their environment. Either way, the lesson is clear: power is an irresistible narcotic.
Which is why it's so refreshing when it isn't.
McCoy, in creating a telekinesis potion (and that was an excellent scene combining science and computers in a logical fashion a la "Wolf in the Fold"), has unlocked a frightful Pandora's Box. Who wouldn't want those kinds of powers? Answer: Kirk doesn't. He much prefers to do things for himself. Alexander doesn't. He's seen what happens to those who partake.
Alexander, handsome star of the show
And can we just turn a spotlight on Michael Dunn's performance as Alexander? In an episode characterized by excellent performances, Alexander yet shines. Humble, noble, resourceful, admirable, vengeful, not to mention the incredible physical control he displays, alternating from painful hobbling to acrobatic feats as he is "thrown around" by Parmen. Bravo. I could not have loved Dunn's character half so much were he not so well-realized, nor would the lesson to be learned from the Platonian's folly have been so effective.
There's not much to this episode—just a few sets, a lot of talking, a lot of torture. On the other hand, with such tools, Aeschylus created Prometheus Bound, and I think "Plato's Stepchildren" will be as enduring a classic.
Five stars.
In the Face of Oppression
by Lorelei Marcus
Fear is power. It is a tool of control, wielded to maintain hierarchy and oppression. Plato's stepchildren (the Platonians) reveled in the fear they caused in others, or seemed to cause, and the sense of control it gave them.
Yet Uhura said, even as her body moved against her will, "I am not afraid." While the Platonians had physical control, her defiance was a resistance, a crack in the facade of their total dominion.
I have to wonder if Nichelle Nichols was at all afraid acting this scene, for her kiss with Shatner, too, was a kind of resistance. What ripples and backlash will this episode create? What consequences will she, the actress, have to face? Perhaps she found strength, like Uhura drew courage from the Captain's prior steady influence, because she was not the first.
The performance of the actors, so clearly resistant, undercuts any torrid interpretations
Last year, Nancy Sinatra had an hour long musical special featuring several of her groovy tunes strung together through a loose narrative exploring her life and the people in it. It was an all-star cast, including dance numbers arranged by the choreographer for Hullabaloo and cameos from several members of the Rat Pack. Two of the numbers, successively, featured Dean Martin and then Sammy Davis Jr. Both were duets, and both ended with Nancy kissing them, much like a girl kisses her uncle, or performers kiss in greeting/departing. The kisses were sweet and harmless—and very deliberately staged for impact, particularly the latter kiss. When Sammy and Nancy kiss, it looks impromptu, but the performers deliberately caused the embrace to occur at the end of the shooting day, right before Sammy had to leave, such that the director couldn't demand a retake.
Black meets white on Movin' with Nancy
I don't know if there has been much reaction to that kiss, but I have seen Sammy host Hollywood Palace a few times since, and his activist spirit only burns brighter and more fervently the more he appears. He's trying to drive change and inspire others to follow. That kiss was only one of example of his efforts.
And with Star Trek and Nichelle Nichols following in his footsteps, not to mention groundbreaking movies like Guess who's coming to dinner?, I think that momentum is building.
In the face of a fearsome enemy, the two primary human reactions are paralysis and/or anger. Plato's stepchildren evoked both as I watched our beloved characters manipulated like puppets. It also inspired me, in the face of overwhelming crisis and inequality, to not be afraid. Indeed, I will hold onto my fury and let it drive me, until we have the power to overcome our oppressors.
Five stars.
[Come join us tomorrow (November 29th) for the next thrilling episode of Star Trek! KGJ is broadcasting the show live with commercials and accompanied by trekzine readings at 8pm Eastern and Pacific. You won't want to miss it…]
Some degree of normality this month. Yes, I actually got a copy of the new New Worlds (and if you’ve been following the drama of the last few issues, you’ll know that the regular arrival of an issue is no longer a given.)
But is it any good?
I thought that the last issue in November was a bit of an improvement, but as we’ve said before, that is no guarantee of the next issue being good – or even there being a next issue at all.
Nevertheless, I was hoping that this issue would at least match the previous.
Cover by Gabi Nasemann
Well, we can’t accuse editor Mike Moorcock and his team of resting on their laurels. The cover shows a new development straight away. We have what is rather expected – the generically meaningless picture of a young woman in strangely coloured tones – but then along the right-hand side we have the start of Brian Aldiss’ story …And the Stagnation of the Heart. I guess that this is an attempt to make you read more within.
Lead In by The Publishers
More about the contributors this month. Perhaps the most interesting thing here is that Bill Butler, poet and proprietor of The Unicorn Bookshop in Brighton, has recently been arrested on obscenity laws.
Other than that, the usual descriptions of the authors and their work to date.
Ah, the return of Brian Aldiss, with a story that (thank goodness) isn’t a Charteris story, that ongoing series of stories set in the Acid House Wars, but instead a continuation of an idea that Aldiss first began back in the March 1966 issue of Impulse (Remember that?) with The Circulation of the Blood. There Aldiss told of Clement Yale, a scientist who was involved in developing an immortality drug, which, unless there were accidents or murder, could extend human life to the point of near-immortality – for a price. The main consequences then as a result were that those who could afford the drug (mainly in Europe and North America) were developing a new social order. In "…And the Stagnation of the Heart" Yale and his wife go to India, where they see the other side of the coin.
In India and Pakistan, the immortality drug is banned, with appalling consequences. Yale discovers that Calcutta is a city overrun with people and has famine as a result. Yale basically sees the other side of the coin – what could happen in the world with uncontrolled population growth?
Brian does well to describe both the beauty and the squalor of a Third World country and examines what can happen if places are denied immortality. It also poses the question of whether it would be right for these people to have access to a drug which would make them near-immortal.
I’m not sure what the importance of shooting goats in the story means, other than to perhaps emphasise the difference in lifestyles between India and more developed countries.
Nevertheless, a thought-provoking story, tempered only by the fact that it feels incomplete. 4 out of 5.
The Apocalypse Machine by Leo Zorin
Zorin’s story is a satirical monologue, a speech detailing a new apocalypse machine to its prospective customers. In an understated way, this involves setting off a nuclear device in London’s Hyde Park and initiating earthquakes in various parts of the city. All die in the end. Interesting idea that is firmly anti-nuclear/anti-war, written in a satirical manner. 3 out of 5.
Article: Warhol Portraits, Still Lifes, Events by Andrew Lugg
A summary of the work to date of film-maker and artist, Andy Warhol. Fascinating – an article that had me applauding one minute and shaking my head in disbelief the next. Can’t say that Warhol’s a dull character, though. 4 out of 5.
The welcome return of Mike Moorcock’s Avengers-like super-agent Jerry Cornelius! Jerry goes to India (see also Aldiss’s story set in India – coincidence?) to assassinate someone with the help of Mata-Hari-like Sabitha. The attempt fails and so different time streams dominate.
This is one where different time streams seem to be tangled—somewhere (or rather somewhen, perhaps) Cornelius has a child, others not. As a result, this one is less fun than previous stories as Jerry shows a much more melancholic side to his persona here.
Generally though, The Delhi Division is still deliberately provocative and occasionally scurrilous. I’m interested by the point that, as this month’s Lead In says, there will be more Jerry Cornelius but written by other people next month. I wonder where they will go. 4 out of 5.
The Colours by Thomas M. Disch
Or as you Americans will say, “The Colors”. This is a piece about the effect on Raymond and the people around him by a machine that shows colours to create moods. Really, it’s about the effect of drugs on a listless society, although this may be a metaphor for TV. It may feel relevant to the drug-taking young people of society today, but to me it seems filled with meaning and yet meaning little. I’m not really sure what it is trying to say, although that may be the point. 3 out of 5.
The New Agent by Joel Zoss
We have mentioned in the past of New Worlds' determination to shock, and this is one of those stories.
It is about Nickolas Dugonie, a nurse who has a relationship with a paralysed patient, Phyllis Wexler. Nickolas’s obsession with the immobile patient leads to them having sex and Phyllis becoming pregnant, although this also seems to lead to a reawakening of Phyllis, something she keeps secret from all except Dugonie. Deeply unpleasant, and yet memorable, but for all the wrong reasons. You want a shockingly nasty story? You got one. This one is more deserving of the outrage Bug Jack Barron got, in my opinion. 2 out of 5.
Peace Talking by Bill Butler
Ah, poetry, this time of an anti-war nature. Move along, please. As with most of these attempts to raise my cultural experience, I try but find them short and unmemorable. 2 out of 5.
This may be the big seller of the issue, as Samuel is one of the big internationally recognised Science Fiction writers of the New Wave. It doesn’t disappoint. A real highlight in its complexity, style and sheer energy.
It is a story told in the first person by a individual with various aliases but generally with the initials HCE, a criminal who is attempting to sell some stolen goods in a New York bar. Before the delivery takes place, his buyer is found dead. HCE discovers that he is being followed by Special Services, who then disappears. HCE meets up with Hawk, a Singer (who to me sounded a little like a new version of Heinlein’s Rhysling from The Green Hills of Earth.) Hawk manages to get HCE into a grand mobster’s party in order for HCE to sell his stuff. There HCE sells his stuff to Arty the Hawk (whose similarity in name is a little confusing), a big-time gangster, but just afterwards the party is raided and there is a fire.
Picture by James Cawthorn
Using his new-found money, HCE makes a name for himself. He sets up an ice cream parlour on Triton, a moon of Neptune, to cover his other activities and becomes a rival to Arty the Hawk. The story ends with the Hawk and HCE meeting and agreeing to work together rather than kill each other. Afterwards HCE is left contemplating this new situation.
This story shows how much of a breath of fresh air Delany is to the science fiction genre, being both classic in content and “cutting-edge” at the same time. At its most basic level, it is a crime story set across different planets, but it is more than that. It made me think of it as something Heinlein would write if he was a New Wave writer and not the writer of Stranger in a Strange Land, taking old science-fictional elements and making them seem new. Lyrical but not baroque, Delany creates visual imagery without lengthy verbiage. I read the story more than once and found more details I had missed the first time around. Potentially Award-nomination stuff. 5 out of 5.
Book Review – Two Kinds of Opium
It may not be too much of a surprise to see the new New Worlds focus on non-genre books in its reviews of late. With that in mind, this month has a mixture of genre and non-genre publications. First off, “W.E.B.” (possibly ‘William Ewart Barclay’, a pseudonym for Mike Moorcock) reviews books that are about China (China Observed by Colin Mackeras and Neale Hunter, The Oriental World by Jeannine Auboyer and Roger Goepper and Peter Swann’s The Art of China, Korea and Japan ) as well as John Selby’s The Paper Dragon about the Opium Wars of the 19th century.
M. John Harrison in his new role as book reviewer deals with what we would see as more traditional science fictional fare , under his own name and as the pseudonym Joyce Churchill- The Final Programme by a certain Mike Moorcock, Camp Concentration by Thomas M. Disch, Jesus Christs by A. J. Langguth, Black Easter by James Blish, Nova by Samuel R. Delany (heard of him?) Picnic on Paradise by fellow New Wave writer Joanna Russ, The Last Unicorn by Peter Beagle and The Reproductive System by John Sladek. With new hands to the wheel, it is good to see more science fiction reviewed, even if you may disagree with the reviews, as I often did.
There are then some Biology books reviewed by Caroline Smith and a very brief mention of some books reviewed by W.E.B. again, which range from a book on The Death of Hitler to The Making of Star Trek. Eclectic, eh?
Summing Up
With a new front cover style, this issue of New Worlds seems to have a new energy this month. As ever, the stories are eclectic and wide-ranging, from those I liked (Delany, Aldiss, Moorcock) to the pointless (Disch, Zorin) to the one I hated (Zoss) which seemed to just want to shock.
A better-than-typical New Worlds issue then, although recently they have not been bad, in my opinion. The Delany is really a potential award-winner, I think, and alone makes the issue worth buying.
(And where would New Worlds be without a provocative photo or a mention of J. G. Ballard? This is an advertisement on the back cover.)
Hello again, it’s time for me to talk very excitedly at you about the latest Doctor Who serial: The Invasion (written by Derrick Sherwin from a story by Kit Pedler). As the programme dabbles in military sci-fi, the Doctor runs into an old friend—and an older enemy.
Yes, you're seeing correctly. He is indeed using his recorder as a telescope and Jamie's shoulder as a mount. This might be my favourite Doctor-companion pairing ever.
IN CASE YOU MISSED IT
So, what exotic locale has the Doctor and co. landed in this time? Uh, England. The twentieth century. And the TARDIS' circuits are in desperate need of repair. Seeing as they have friends in the 20th century, the Doctor suggests looking up Professor Travers in London (whom they met in "The Web of Fear"). Hopefully his skills resurrecting a robot Yeti will translate to repairing an immensely complex time and space machine.
Before we get to that, however, dark deeds are afoot. The Doctor picked a bad place to land, requiring the aid of a van driver to smuggle him and his friends out of a compound owned by the mysterious, ruthless and well-armed International Electromatics company.
On arriving in London, the Doctor and company find that Professor Travers and his daughter Anne are out of the country. They’ll have to settle for the suspiciously similar substitute Professor Watkins (Edward Burnham) and his niece Isobel (Sally Faulkner). Teeny problem: Professor Watkins hasn’t been seen in a week. Not since he went to work for… International Electromatics. (Dun dun duuuuuun!)
The Doctor and Jamie head to the I.E. company offices in London in an attempt to get some answers. And answers they get (of a sort) from the company director, Tobias Vaughn (Kevin Stoney). Snappy dresser. Nice office. Doesn’t blink often enough.
And he’s far too nice. He gives Jamie a free radio and offers the Doctor his workshop’s help with the TARDIS circuits, assuring him that Watkins is perfectly fine. No, of course they can’t actually see him. He’s busy.
The Doctor suspects Vaughn’s got something to hide, and he’s absolutely right. Vaughn is hiding an alien computer in his office—an alien computer that’s currently planning an invasion, and insists that the Doctor must be destroyed if their plans are to have a chance to succeed. It also tells him that the Doctor has the ability to travel between worlds, and Vaughn becomes obsessed with finding out how.
But the Doctor isn’t the only man with a distrust of Vaughn and his company, and he’s not the first to try investigating them. Say hello to the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce, headed by our old friend Brigadier (formerly Colonel) Lethbridge-Stewart (Nicholas Courtney). They’ve made it their business to investigate the unusual and otherworldly, and they’ve been taking an interest in I.E. for quite some time. If they pool their knowledge with the Doctor, they might be able to put a stop to whatever Vaughn’s plans are. The Brigadier gives the Doctor a transceiver radio and assures him that if he needs help, U.N.I.T. will be ready to provide it.
Nice 'tache.
And he might need it sooner rather than later, because the women got tired of waiting and went to the I.E. offices to look for them—and they haven’t come out of there since. The Doctor and Jamie arrive too late to stop Vaughn’s enforcers bundling the women onto a train (in crates, no less), but Vaughn ever so kindly offers to give them a lift to the I.E. factory compound so they can search for them.
U.N.I.T. observes this with some concern, and the Brigadier has them discreetly tracked… if you call helicopters ‘discreet’.
Meanwhile, Vaughn’s head enforcer Packer (Peter Halliday) is hard at work coercing Prof. Watkins with threats to Isobel’s wellbeing. Watkins is a stubborn bloke, though, and Packer doesn’t scare him. Vaughn, on the other hand… when Vaughn turns up to make a threat, that’s another matter.
Such as when he threatens to hand Zoe over to Packer’s mercy. He’s worked out the Doctor has a machine that allows him to travel between worlds, and he wants it for himself. Hand over the TARDIS, and nobody has to get hurt. The Doctor instead makes a run for it. I’m pretty sure he couldn’t hand over the TARDIS even if he wanted to. It turned invisible when he arrived; he’s probably forgotten where he parked it.
The Doctor/Jamie method for getting through tough situations: when in doubt, grab Jamie/the Doctor and hold on for dear life.
The Doctor and Jamie make a narrow escape via the building’s lift shaft, and hide out in a train car for a little while. They find some crates, and Jamie is alarmed to discover that his is not empty. There’s something alive in there! However, he doesn’t get a chance to investigate, because they need to search for the women—and we need to tease the mystery out for one more episode.
Speaking of the mystery, how about a clue? Vaughn discusses with Packer his plans to double cross his extraterrestrial allies. Watkins is insurance against them. The machine he’s building has the potential to destroy Vaughn’s allies with the power of emotion. They’re vulnerable to it, you see. Vaughn’s happy to use their technology and strength for his own gain, but would rather they didn’t take over the world. They aren’t going to kill everybody, oh no. They’re going to convert them. Into what? Well. Take a guess.
When Vaughn demands that the Doctor and Jamie hand themselves over, the Doctor calls in his favour from the Brigadier. Cue the daring rescue! As a U.N.I.T. helicopter hovers above, Jamie helps the women escape from the compound’s main building, and the group ascend from the rooftop via a rickety rope ladder under a hail of bullets.
A furious Vaughn now must alter his plans to bring the invasion forward. He prepares to return to London, getting in contact with his inside man at the Ministry Of Defence. U.N.I.T. must be stopped.
Meanwhile, the Doctor has a burning question. What was in the crates? Out of the frying pan, he throws himself back into the fire, sneaking back to the I.E. London office to take a look at their cargo bay. This time, he’s lucky enough to get a glimpse of a crate being opened, and the thing inside is waking up. Stepping unsteadily from the crate, glinting in the dim light…is a Cyberman.
Nice earmuffs.
A Few Thoughts
I often get a bit annoyed with long serials, but I can honestly say that I’ve enjoyed every episode so far. The mystery unfolds at a fair pace, new revelations revealing new questions, rather than the repetitiveness and backtracking that some serials lean on to pad their runtime. There’s a good degree of suspense, helped along by the rather good soundtrack and interesting cast of characters. Speaking of which…
Some people say a story is only as good as its villain, and if that’s true, this is shaping up to be an excellent serial. Vaughn is a great villain. He’s smooth, clever, he’s affable, but just a little bit too much. He’s smarmy, and there’s something peculiarly loathsome about smarmy people, isn’t there? And yet underneath that cool, polished surface, there’s a positively explosive temper, and a true nastiness to him. The tension between these sides of his personality is absolutely delicious.
You can't hear it, but 'The Teddy Bears' Picnic' is playing in the background of this scene. I wish I was joking.
Speaking of having hidden depths, it surprised me that Zoe chose to hang back and play fashion model with Isobel rather than investigate the office with Jamie and the Doctor. Of course, on the purely practical level it was necessary to separate the group somehow, but the method is something I find curious. I don’t really know what to make of it. On the one hand, it could be said that this is just pigeonholing Zoe and Isobel into a stereotypically feminine and frivolous activity while the men do the important stuff. And well, I don’t think that’s entirely inaccurate. And I think it is fair to point out that even when the women do show initiative in attempting to come to the rescue of the chaps, the fact they immediately get captured and need the men to save them rather undermines the whole thing.
On the other hand, Isobel is a self-employed woman making her own way in the world, and Zoe has never really had much of an opportunity to simply enjoy or explore her own femininity. She expresses in "The Dominators" a degree of discomfort in fashion that isn’t solely utilitarian, and we saw in her introductory serial how she was raised as more of a human computer than an actual teenage girl. Perhaps this is the first time in her life she’s ever been at liberty to have fun. Nothing wrong with that.
So yes, there’s nothing wrong at all with the women’s choice of activity, but there is room to criticise how the story uses that choice to reinforce traditional gender dynamics. Gender politics as they apply to storytelling can be pretty complicated. Who knew?
When confronting supervillains, it's important to wear the silliest accessory you can find. That way, they'll be too distracted to harm you.
Final Thoughts
As glad as I am to see the return of Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, I haven’t yet made up my mind as to how I feel about the introduction of U.N.I.T. On the one hand, they’re cool. No denying that. They seem trustworthy enough. I like the Brigadier, and think the new facial hair suits him very well. Yet I worry about the idea of the Doctor making too much use of military allies. I only hope their answer to every alien problem won’t be to just shoot it.
Well, all that remains to be seen. And I’m very much looking forward to it.
This is the episode that fully cemented season 3 in my mind as the highest quality season so far. The special effects were impressive, the costumes were simply spiffy and the pacing and audio were smooth and well-balanced. My only frustration is that it lacked one major connecting thread in the plot, which left it with inconsistencies great enough to turn this otherwise seamless Tholian web into a loose and fraying net.
In a masterful opener, we are dropped in the thick of the action from the very beginning, with the crew staring in concern at all the viewscreens, as they are informed that they have entered a region of space "that appears to be breaking apart." I would have loved an explanation as to what readings led Spock to that conclusion, but everyone else seems to take Spock’s assessment with no further elaboration. Their attention is swiftly caught by the appearance of a marooned Federation Starship, one that Captain Kirk identifies on sight as the U.S.S. Defiant. Wasting no time, he rushes to beam onto it with nearly all the highest ranking officers (you’d think he’d learn that effectively decapitating the chain of command before even assessing the nature of the fate that befell an adrift starship is something he should be a bit more cautious about doing, but it seems he prefers learning the hard way yet again). When Kirk, Spock, McCoy and Chekov beam over to the other starship, we see that they have at least learned to take the small precaution of contamination reduction suits this time.
But they don't decontaminate them when they come back to the Enterprise—well, perhaps that's part of the transporter beaming now.
In a sequence of events that should surprise no one at this point, the danger that annihilated the Defiant's crew begins to affect the away team right away. Just as we saw just two weeks ago in “Day of the Dove,” Chekov starts being influenced by a violent murderous madness, and just as the ensign did in “The Naked Time,” he tells no one of his symptoms before bringing a contagion back to the ship with him. Meanwhile in the Defiant’s sickbay, Dr. McCoy makes an immediate and even more disturbing observation when crewmen and objects on the ship phase out of existence as he tries to touch them. Thankfully, Kirk at least treats this threat with the appropriate level of alarm, and immediately orders a retreat to the Enterprise, but it appears to be too late, as whatever forces seem to be affecting the dissolution of the Defiant cause the ship to disappear while the captain is separated from the away team, mid beaming sequence.
The chicken-soup dispenser has become a tricorder device.
The focus now shifts to the delicate dance of keeping the ship in close enough proximity to the Defiant to make another attempt at retrieving the captain while managing to keep the ship in one piece as it withstands the conditions of this volatile section of space. Confusingly, Spock attempts to explain what's happening with vague multiphasic pseudo-science. He says the computer can calculate the pattern in which our universe and the Defiant's overlap with enough regularity that he speculates that the defunct ship will reappear in two hours. Here, he muddies the waters by throwing in noncommittal statements like “the dimensions are totally dissimilar and any use of power disturbs it,” that made me so frustrated with his vagueness that I agreed with Chekov's violent outburst that interrupted it.
"The science in this episode is too confusing!"
The writers decide here that the episode needs even more tension, choosing this moment for the Tholians to zoom into view. Seeking, too late, to guard this unstable portion of space, an alien ship containing beings calling themselves the Tholians hails the Enterprise demanding an explanation for their trespassing and requesting they leave the area immediately. Spock negotiates the calculated amount of time he requires to interact with the Defiant again. When Spock’s calculations prove erroneous, the Tholians swiftly open fire on the Enterprise, feeling as if they were maliciously deceived. Following a brief fire-fight, the Enterprise and the Tholians end up disabling each other, and the Tholians retreat and enact a new strategy to defeat the Enterprise, gathering reinforcements and using several ships to slowly build a web of energy beams.
As if there wasn't enough going on with this intergalactic battle, at the same time, McCoy is engaged in a battle of his own against the interphasic space madness affecting Chekov and the crew. He sets about the monumental task of medically creating an internal shield to barely comprehensible degradative forces, much as we've seen him do in “Miri” and “The Deadly Years.”
"Physician, heal thyself!"
Spock takes this lull in the immediate external danger to officially declare Captain Kirk dead, and he holds a brief, ship-wide funeral service for him. Dr. McCoy drags Spock very reluctantly to an audience with Kirk’s recorded Will and rather unnecessarily takes an opportunity to try to bully, insult, and squeeze an emotional reaction out of Spock. It seems as if this is another one of their typical disputes, but when Kirk’s voice rings out through his tapes, counseling them to stop bickering, it feels as if he’s reaching out from beyond the grave to bring home the gravity of the situation they are in. McCoy immediately apologizes, noting, "It hurts, doesn't it?" In the tense silence where Spock replies softly "What would you have me say, Doctor?" The scene is suddenly imbued with a surprisingly beautiful tenderness that only the shared grief that the loss of a captain and dear, true friend could elicit.
"I can't leave you two alone for five minutes!"
In yet another tonal shift, we find that it's Uhura who helps solve the mystery of their still interdimensionally traveling Captain, as she is first to see his “shadow” phasing in her mirror. One by one, the crew begins sharing in what Uhura had thought to be her own personal hallucination, and they realize Kirk is still alive on a plane of existence that is erratically phasing with ours. Here, the plot seems to completely unravel for me. Apparently a phaser beam punched a hole through the dimensional veil and Kirk got through and somehow also another hole is about to open in the Tholian Web that the Enterprise can slip through while also scooping up Captain Kirk in one fluid movement. Also McCoy discovers the cure for the rabid space sickness (which, truly, why does that matter if they are all about to leave this space in 20 minutes?) and Scotty takes it to his quarters to drink it down like it’s a cocktail mixer rather than an anti-interdimensional-radiation medicine.
"Subtle, yet bold!"
The rest of the episode rushes to a “just because” conclusion, only necessary because they had loaded the story up too much in the beginning. If the SFnal concepts had been more simplistic like “colliding space eddies,” and they hadn’t re-used the space madness subplot so soon, or even if they had taken another moment to acknowledge how emotionally compassionate it was of Spock to make time for a memorial service in the midst of a crisis out of deference to his human subordinates, the episode could have come to a more settled conclusion. Instead, the final scenes collide and coalesce into a sudden messy slop.
The Enterprise escapes the Tholian web 'with a mighty leap.'
In total, the quality of this episode's elements was excellent, but could have stood to benefit from a couple more minutes of editing. Maybe a few more threads woven into web of this plot would have been enough to ensnare my full endorsement of it
4 stars.
Tangled up in Interspace
by Trini Stewart
“The Tholian Web” completely enveloped me in its tense atmosphere this week, largely because I had to watch helplessly as my favorite character, our dearly beloved Spock, faced nearly insurmountable challenges as captain. Spock had to defuse so many high-pressure situations simultaneously that were overwhelming just to imagine, and each aspect of Kirk’s complicated rescue was painfully resolved on the thinnest of ice (to no fault of Spock’s careful guidance).
Other than the strain of having to hinge everyone’s lives on multiple close calls, perhaps the most problematic facet of Spock’s predicament was McCoy’s aggressive response to Spock’s leadership. Acting as a foil to Spock’s calm and focused responses, McCoy persistently questioned and blamed their dire straits on Spock, who had to spend precious time defending his decisions as he urged that they press on. I’ll be the first to admit that, if it were anyone else besides Spock in charge of weighing the risks of Kirk’s rescue, I too would insist that we save the crew while the ship could still leave.
Spock—the best man for the job.
Still, I couldn’t tell if McCoy was just completely distraught by Kirk’s being lost, or if he was influenced by the interspace deterioration to some degree, but I was hurt to see Spock at odds with a partner he can usually trust when he needed him most. My bias will ultimately lie with Spock’s reliability to make the best decision available in any given situation, and I wish that despite the intense circumstances, McCoy had at least conceded to work together with Spock once the ship was down. It was a pretty low blow to assume Spock meant to endanger everyone to secure his captain status, especially after Spock explained his reasoning perfectly.
Thankfully for everyone, Kirk had predicted exactly how the two officers would interact, and he gave them just the sobering insight they needed to cooperate peacefully. I loved that Spock was reminded that McCoy was there to help when matters couldn’t be resolved by his best judgment alone. It was equally sweet (and satisfying) to see Kirk remind McCoy that Spock could make human mistakes too, right after McCoy made a rude remark about Spock’s Vulcan half.
All in all, I loved this entire episode with its suspenseful atmosphere, satisfying characterization, and well-earned resolution. I can only imagine how long-time fans must have enjoyed this episode knowing the characters’ history with one another!
4.5 stars.
Our Little Vulcan’s Growing Up
by Andrea Castaneda
It has been a while since I've caught an episode of Star Trek. In fact, the last episode I watched was “Amok Time”, in which we saw a glimpse of Mr. Spock’s vulnerable side. So I'm glad the show I finally found time for was “The Tholian Web”, featuring our favorite Vulcan in a leadership role. I was happy to see another glimpse of this stoic character. And indeed, compared to how he was in season one (which I got to see fairly regularly), we’ve seen a lot of character growth in how he leads a mission and communicates with his crew.
We first saw Spock’s role as a leader in season one’s “Galileo Seven”. In it, he and other crew members were sent to scout a newly discovered planet. Through twists of fate, they are left stranded, alone, and facing a hostile native species.
When one crew member dies, Spock insists they spare no time to respect their fallen comrade, focusing on finding a way home. It’s logical to him, but it sparks ire amongst the crew members, thus sowing seeds of discontent. As they search for a way back, the crew continues to be uncooperative and critical of his orders, save for Scotty. Here, it’s Spock’s lack of understanding human emotion that jeopardizes their mission. Despite the “illogical” nature of the situation, his crew members want their grief respected. And while we, the audience, understand Spock does what he thinks is best, one can understand why the crew sees him as “cold”.
By season three, he seems to have learned from this experience. In “The Tholian Web”, while he remains calm and collected when faced with Kirk's death, he chooses to spend a moment to hold a brief but effective memorial service. It is done very much in Spock's way, but it shows how the Vulcan first officer is able to empathize with his crew. And the gesture pays off. Despite one crewmember going mad during the service, it seems to solidify Spock's position as new leader. The members of the Enterprise— save for McCoy– respect his orders, call him "Captain", and do not question him, showing how much he’s earned their trust.
Spock, having learned from experience, foregoes the traditional comedy monologue.
Another stark contrast is how his attitude shifts from “saving the village above all” to “no man left behind”. In “The Galileo Seven”, after scrimping together repairs to get their shuttle into orbit, Spock states that the crew should go on without him if he is compromised. And inevitably, Spock is incapacitated right as the shuttle lifts off. The surviving crew members rescue him despite his insistence to go on. It’s a heroic act, but one that costs them their window of opportunity to leave. Because of that, he scolds them for it and they respond with frustration. (But worry not; they make it to the Enterprise in the end.)
In “The Tholian Web”, Spock seems to take the opposite approach. When faced with the prospect of losing Kirk, he risks the Enterprise’s escape window for the chance to save Kirk. I should note that one can interpret this as Spock making a special exception for their captain. But I choose to believe Kirk’s ideals have rubbed off on him. Right on cue, he receives much criticism from McCoy, who is being particularly prickly even for him. Their banter serves as a good vocalization for what the audience might be thinking. But it was interesting seeing the logical Vulcan take the riskier approach. I will say, Spock’s choice does endanger the rest of the crew–the very thing he was trying to avoid in “Galileo Seven”. But once again, I think it shows how much Kirk has influenced him.
In the end, the gamble pays off. Kirk is rescued, the Enterprise escapes, and everyone goes on to explore another day.
Indeed, this episode can be interpreted as a better evolved version of the “Galileo Seven”. The stakes were higher, there were more plot elements in play, and the alien species they faced was more threatening. The story kept me guessing and didn’t have predictable moments (despite the ending being a tad bit convenient.) It was a delight to see how Spock not only survived but thrived as a leader. I very much look forward to seeing how Spock will continue to develop, both as a leader and as a true friend to the Enterprise.
Five stars
Behind the scenes
by Gideon Marcus
Back in the first season, the Enterprise was a living, breathing entity with 430 varied souls on board. Over the course of the show, the focus has shifted sharply onto The Big Three (viz. last episode, in which the starship might as well have been the personal vehicle of Kirk, Spock, and McCoy a la Peter's woody in The Mod Squad).
This week, we saw a bit of the old Enterprise, the kind we haven't seen since "Balance of Terror", really. There were some 30-40 people at Kirk's (premature) funeral, lots of people in engineering, McCoy's lab, on the bridge. There were enough people that department heads could, rightly, not spend all of their moments doing hands-on work. Uhura got to take a few minutes off, which we haven't seen since her impromptu concert with Spock in "The Conscience of the King" (the enforced hiatus in "The Changeling" doesn't count).
Interestingly, this actually turned Lorelei off a bit, so used is she to the more-than-one-braid-on-their-sleeves stars and co-stars doing all the work. But I'll never criticize a show for getting things right. Now if they can just get some trained Marines to beam ashore instead of the ship's senior complement…
A Tholian spins its web. Note: not to scale (this is supposed to be "out of phaser range".)
Anyway, I loved this episode, from beginning to end. It took a bunch of somewhat familiar elements, mixed them with some new ones, and tied them all together with the thread of Spock's first real command. It reminded me a bit of a second-season Burke's Law episode where Captain Amos Burke goes on vacation, and the rest of his team have to solve a case without him. Kirk's absence gives "The Tholian Web" room to breathe (even as he suffocates). This enhances the poignancy of his taped final orders to Spock and Bones.
I loved getting to see Sulu cradle Chekov's head after the navigator goes mad (they do love to hear him scream). I loved seeing Uhura mourn for the Captain, seeing her in her quarters! And we see Spock's quarters again, too. Scotty, McCoy, and Spock enjoy a drink together before the engineer takes the bottle of cure away to share it with someone else—probably Kevin Riley.
And I always love getting to see another starship, even if they are inevitably in distress. Somehow, each has its own unique flavor, even though they always use the same sets. Finally, I loved meeting the Tholians, an attempt at a true alien race.
In Communist Red, no less…
Never mind the brilliant special effects, the superlative acting, the real tension, even knowing Kirk was going to live (as he must, and as we saw in the preview; this was a negative point for Lorelei, too).
Thus, I can give this episode no less than five stars. Frankly, Season 3 has been, so far, my favorite season yet.
[Come join us tonight (November 22nd) for the next thrilling episode of Star Trek! KGJ is broadcasting the show live with commercials and accompanied by trekzine readings at 8pm Eastern and Pacific. You won't want to miss it…]
Not too long ago, the FM band of the radio was mostly for classical music. Why waste high fidelity on the raucous rock and pop the kids were listening to? In the same vein, the big 33rpm LP records were for grown-ups. That's where you found your jazz, your schmaltz, your classical. The juvenile stuff was put on disposable 45 singles.
Well, it still is, but of late, really starting in earnest around 1965, a lot of Top 40 ended up on LPs, and since last year, the FM stations are playing psychedelia and fuzz more often than not. Is classical down for the count?
Not if the Trans-Electronic Music Productions (T-EMP) company has anything to say about it…
From the back cover of Switched-on Bach, the new LP by the Carlos/Folkman combo who make up the T-EMP, one would think it's yet another fusty classical album. The selections are common, the same kind of thing you've heard a million times before.
But not this way. the T-EMP has rendered all of the pieces entirely electronically. Using Moog synthesizers, many of these familiar songs take on an entirely different character. In some cases, the instrumentation chosen resembles the original harpsichords and flutes and such, and the result is just competent (even a little dry) Bach. On the other hand, you also have pieces like the Brandenburg Concerto #3, particularly the first movement, which are utterly transformed. On those pieces in particular, Carlos and Folkman have departed the natural entirely. With instruments reminiscent of the weird electronic sounds found in the British puppet show Space Patrol, or perhaps the theme of Dr. Who, Baroque becomes by turns cosmic, seductive, and menacing.
Normally, when I listen to classical music, I can imagine the orchestra. With Switched-on Bach, I imagine I'm in the cool, dark halls of a computer, maybe something like the one in Ellison's I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream…before it went murderous. The artificial tones are beautiful, hard-edged, passionate, and perfectly suited to the mathematical rhythms of the King of Köthen.
I'm not the only one who thinks so. Switched-on Bach is a runaway bestseller, and not with the classical set, but with the youth. Heading toward the million mark, the Carlos/Folkman team have wrapped the vintage in a computerized cloak, and the kids are eating it up.
Including this one (I'm only 23, just like Carol Burnett). Buy yourself a copy. I promise it'll be worth it.
The last woman on Earth, the freak survivor of a worldwide artificial plague, splits herself into a thousand personas so as to shield herself from the enormity of her reality. Upon discovering a screenplay her writer persona wrote, she sees, poetically rendered, the loneliness and desperation she's been repressing for three years. Like the 5D home in Heinlein's And he built a crooked house…, all of her personas collapse into the original, leaving her bleak and alone.
Aside from plausibility issues (Edna survives in a bathysphere—presumably every submariner in the world is still alive, too), there are pacing issues. The story moves along until we get to the screenplay, which is several pages of an increasingly sunburned turtle plodding up a beach while a building makes passes at her.
Basically, cut-rate Ballard, the type we've seen in New Worlds for the past five years. We keep saying the same thing: Bruce has potential. Bruce writes pretty well for someone so young. Bruce has yet to write something we really like.
Three stars.
by Gahan Wilson
The House of Evil, Charles L. Grant
Written in quasi-archaic style, this is the would-be-droll story of a writer who is conned, by a lithe woman and her coffin-dwelling uncle, to have a brush with the unnatural that leaves him Undead.
These pastiche stories require a deft touch that Grant doesn't have. Particularly when he has his character pour rather than pore over documents ("pour what?" I always wonder).
The stories of The People continue, this time detailing the encounter between a teacher at a tiny school in the Southwest and a precocious but illiterate young telepath. When the fourth-grader begins picking up the distressed thoughts of a cosmonaut stranded in orbit, the teacher gets involved in a rescue operation that is out of this world.
This tale is a strange mix of the familiar and the unusual. We've now had more than a dozen The People stories that involve the interactions of normal humans with the alien (but human) psioinic exiles, refugees from their own exploded planet. In some ways, I feel that well has been mined out. The telling is different, this time. Instead of the pensive, dreamy mode that Henderson employs, the story has a breathless quality that reminds me of the fanfiction I read in the various trekzines coming out—that sort of, "Golly! I'm on the Enterprise with Mr. Spock!"
It's not bad, just weird, and not up to the standards of Henderson's better work. Plus, I find it strange how brazenly The People are displaying their powers these days. Surely, that should have follow-on consequences.
Three stars.
Miss Van Winkle, Stephen Barr
A girl sleeps from birth until she is 19, then awakes—beautiful, articulate (though not literate), and devoid of superego. She is unhappy until she meets Walkly, who loves her for the societal outcast she quickly becomes.
I am not sure if this story is supposed to be a satire on artificial social conventions or just cute. Either way, it's a bit clunky and wholly insubstantial. Morever, it twice tries to make clever use of the girl's surname(s), but because the author introduces them late, the reader is never let in on the joke. It'd be as if, on the last page of the mystery, Poirot pulled the heretofore unknown murder weapon out of his pocket and used it to solve the case.
Every book in the world, starting with the oldest, most neglected, and ending with even the most modest of volumes, begins to wing its way toward the Amazon. That's pretty much the story.
Sladek writes well, and he writes this well, but there's not much there to this there.
Three stars, I suppose.
The Worm Shamir, Leonard Tushnet
The best science fiction incorporates real science, allies it with human interest, and makes clever predictions regarding the application of a new discovery. This story does all of these things admirably.
Professor Zvi Ben-Ari of Israel's Rehovoth research center is hot on a Biblically inspired trail. He is convinced that the legend of King Solomon's "Shamir", a worm used to shape rocks for use in an altar, has a kernel of truth. But what truth could it be? And if such truth exists, and it could be used for war, what then?
A thoughtful, atmospheric, humorous piece. Perhaps, as an Israeli, I am biased (or, shall we say, the target audience), but I quite enjoyed it.
Five stars.
Lost, Dorothy Gilbert
Poetry: an alien pilot, scouring the Earth for some kind of Arcadia, finds instead the fleecy flocks of Scottish Skye.
It didn't move me. Two stars.
View from Amalthea, Isaac Asimov
Inspired by a scene from the movie 2001, the Good Doctor's piece this month is about how the four big "Galilean" moons of Jupiter might look to an observer on the innermost satellite, Mimas. He details their size and brightness. As a bonus section, he talks about how the many moons of Saturn would look from the innermost satellite, Janus.
He never quite comes around to confirming that the shot of Jovian moons in the movie was plausible, nor does he explain that a moon one hundredth as bright as our Moon is still 100 times brighter than Venus (though that brightness is spread over a large disk, so it would look dim to our eyes). I chalk up those omissions to space concerns. As is, it's a handy article for those who don't want to have to do the math every time.
Satirist/thriller-writer Ron Goulart offers up an "if this goes on" adventure set in The Republic of Southern California some time around the turn of the next century. Hecker, an agent of the Social Work division of the police force is tasked to make contact with Jane Kendry, head of the left-wing insurgency, and find out if she's responsible for all the riots breaking out, even among the $100,000 houses and manicured lawns of affluent Orange County.
Along the way, he runs into hippie beach bums, an erstwhile Vice President and his Secretary of Defense, running a sort of revival (continuation?) of the arch-conservative John Birch Society, and finally, The Gadget Man himself, who runs the wheels within the wheels.
In tone, it's more grounded than Bob Sheckley's whimsy, more silly than Mack Reynolds' stuff. It's eminently readable, occasionally smile-inducing, suitably riproaring, and utterly forgettable.
Three stars.
Compare and contrast
In the end, Carlos and Folkman provide a shorter-length but replayable and consistent pleasure. F&SF this month is, for the most part, forgettable—but it takes longer to get through, and the nuggets of gold shine brightly.
Both have earned permanent places on my shelves, and I guess that's all one can ask for. And here, what's this? The back of F&SF has something most interesting. We'll have to try that out, too, won't we?
When you think "outer space", you don't usually think of weather. In fact, weather in space is a bit like weather on Earth: there's wind, turbulence, a steady rain, and occasional storms. Except that the wind and rain are the sun's ceaseless spray of charged particles along with their attendant magnetic fields. The storms are the result of solar flares, those sudden unsettled periods when fiery prominences reach out from the sun's surface.
These phenomena can even be sensed by humans—as aurorae where the solar wind interacts with the Earth's magnetic field, and as the crackle of static on a shortwave radio. For satellites and space travelers, the solar radiation, particularly during flares, can damage electronics and internal organs. There are thus a lot of reasons it would be practical to have a space weather report, just as we have a daily weather report down here on Earth.
Northern Lights, 1921, by Sydney Laurence
This is why the Pioneer series of solar weather satellites, the first launched December 16, 1965 and the latest launched on November 8th of this year, was created: to serve as long-term weather sentinels in space, the interplanetary equivalent of our TIROS weather satellites.
Prior to the launch of Pioneer 6 (no relation to Pioneer 5 or its predecessors save for the name), the mapping of the solar wind had been a strictly local affair. The Interplanetary Monitoring Platform satellites, Explorers 18, 21, 28, 33, 34, and 35, have all been launched in high Earth orbits to survey the solar wind between the Earth and the moon. This is in service of the Apollo program.
The aforementioned Pioneer 5 and interplanetary probes like Mariner 2 have made preliminary forays into true interplanetary space beyond the Earth/moon region, but those missions only lasted a few months. The interplanetary Pioneers will be on station for years.
Launched on Delta rockets (the direct descendants of the Thor-Able rockets that launched the first Pioneers toward the moon), Pioneers 6-9 (and eventually #10, next year), were hurled into orbits that parallel our own, but further out in the case of Pioneers 7, 8, and 9; a little closer to the sun in the case of Pioneer 6. The outer ones orbit a little more slowly while P6 zooms a little faster. As a result, they all spread out, making a necklace of stations around the sun.
Pioneer 6 was launched in 1965 during the lull in the sun's 11 year cycle called "the solar minimum". The hope was that we would get continuous data as the sun increased in activity, flaring more and more often. We have not been disappointed. On July 7, 1966, a big shock front from a solar flare enveloped Explorer 33. 45 hours later, Pioneer 6 was hit. Interestingly, because of the time delay, even though both probes were similar distances from the sun (but far apart in orbit, of course), it is believed those might have been the result of two different flares, or perhaps two disturbances from the same one.
When the Pioneers were launched, scientists had a basic idea of that the solar wind looked like the spiral spray of a sprinkler head, this caused by the 28-day rotation of the sun. But the instruments onboard the sophisticated Pioneers afforded much more detailed analysis of these streams and fields. The Pioneers have found that the local magnetic fields will suddenly flip every so often. Their microstructure is like woven filaments, far more complicated than we had previously conceived.
High-level view of the "sprinkler" spray of the solar wind
Pioneers 7 and 8 sailed through the Earth's magnetosheath, that magnetic shadow formed as the sun's wind interacts and deflects around the Earth. Comparing their results to the closer-in Explorer 33, they found that this shadow tail gets more diffuse, more like the background interplanetary wind at greater distances, which is what one would expect.
The Earth's magnetic field (you can see the figure 8 Van Allen Belts) and the long, trailing, magnetosheath.
The Pioneer satellites are well-placed for more than just solar science. Pioneers 8 and 9 are equipped with cosmic-ray telescopes designed to measure the chemical composition and sprectra of the galactic wind—the higher-energy rain of particles from beyond our solar system. But the coolest use of the Pioneers so far (to me) is when Pioneer 7 was used to measure the lunar ionosphere. On January 20, 1967, the moon "occulted" (blocked) the space probe, as seen from Earth. Radio waves were beamed from a 150-foot dish run by Stanford past the edge of the moon. They found that the scattering that resulted can't be explained just by the physical rocks of the lunar surface. There must be a tenuous "atmosphere" above the moon, at least on the sunlit side, created at high altitudes by interactions between the solar wind and the surface of the moon.
There's actually a lot more, esoteric stuff that's way above my head. And there will be plenty more as the Pioneers will probably keep going for many more years. Though they haven't gotten much press, I think these are some of the most exciting missions to date. Stay tuned!
My, what big…rockets you have!
Three years ago, I made a brief announcement about the launch of a new Soviet probe, one so enormous that its size alone had ramifications for the future of the Communist space program. Proton, launched July 16, 1965, massed a whopping twelve tons, making it the biggest single object put in orbit until the November 1967 launch of Apollo 4. That means that the USSR has a Saturn-class rocket in its stable, which is why the concerns about an imminent moon mission have grounding.
Since Proton 1, three more Protons have been sent into orbit, the latest just two days ago on November 16th. Proton 4 weighs seventeen tons, which will beat all records—at least until Apollo 8 goes up in December.
Why are they so heavy? Because they carry heavy instruments. Protons 1 and 2 included a gamma-ray telescope, a scintillator telescope, and proportional counters. These counters were able to determine the total energy of each super-high energy cosmic particle individually, a capability no prior satellite had possessed, measuring cosmic rays with energy levels up to 100 million electron volts.
In addition to the above equipment, the fourteen ton Proton 3 was also equipped with a two-ton gas-Cerenkov-scintillator telescope. Its goal was to attempt to detect the "quark", a brand new theoretical sub-particle that, according to theory, makes up all atomic particles. Presumably, Proton 4 mounts a similar device with refinements.
Unlike most Soviet satellites, whose missions are shrouded in secrecy, data from the experiements onboard the first two Protons have produced at least five scientific papers on cosmic rays. I haven't seen anything on Proton 3, but astronauts on Gemini 11 managed to snap a picture of it in September 1966!
Will the advanced experiments on Proton 4 produce a scientific bonanza to rival that of the Pioneers? Only time will tell. For now, the papers are more obsessed with the rocket than the satellite.
A school for young wizards: What could possibly go wrong!
I wanted to like last year's City of Illusions, but the book fell flat. However, I saw the potential in Ursula K. Le Guin as a writer. Her ideas in the book were good, it was the execution that was lacking, so with her latest book out, A Wizard of Earthsea,I figured I’d give her another try.
Ged is an ambitious young wizard with a hunger for knowledge and power. The book follows his journey from childhood into adulthood, first starting when he attends a school for wizards. There he learns the basics of magic, makes friends and a rival. He also unleashes a dark being that wants him dead, but thanks to magic protection around the school, he is safe for the time being.
It isn’t until Ged graduates and becomes a practicing wizard for various villages that he really learns the hard lessons of magic. Now outside the protection of school, he is pursued by the dark being, eventually forced to turn and fight it, putting his skills to the ultimate test.
Fantasy as a genre doesn’t excite me as an adult, as it is often too whimsical and too escapist, too detached from our own world. A Wizard of Earthsea managed a careful balance, with an attention to the laws of magic and how it is able to be used. Wizards can only use so much magic at a time, and overexerting oneself or attempting a spell higher than one’s skill has physical consequences, causing wounds to appear on the body. Throughout the book, we see Ged test these limits, only to end up in lengthy recovery each time. Eventually, he does go too far and ends up permanently scarring himself.
I liked the concept of true names: learning the true name of a creature, plant, object or place is the key to all spells in this world. Even people have true names that they keep secret, instead using an alias in day to day life. While Ged is the main character’s true name, and the narrative refers to him as such, in dialogue he is called “Sparrowhawk” by other characters. I loved the intimate moments of friendship when true names were exchanged, showing a great amount of trust between characters.
Ged makes a compelling main character, with his distinctive flaw being his own hubris. Time and again, he tries magic that is way above his level only to be hurt. He attempts to raise the dead, despite knowing that it can’t be done, and suffers the consequences. It's because of his hubris that a dark creature is brought into the world who specifically hunts him, creating the main conflict of the book. But we’re shown that he has other values. He isn’t greedy. When he fights the dragon, his only motivation is duty to the town he serves. When the dragon offers him some of his treasure as a reward, he declines. Most of the time when Ged overexerts his magic, it isn’t in pursuit of fame. Ged truly wants to help people, even when it’s past his capabilities.
You know it's a good book when there's a map
With this book, I finally saw what I knew Le Guin was capable of as a writer. She's always created compelling unique worlds readers want to immerse themselves in, but now her writing can back up her ideas. Maybe because this is her first foray into juvenile fiction or perhaps she is simply growing as a writer.
I look forward to what she writes next.
Four stars.
by Victoria Silverwolf
Tomorrow and Yesterday
The latest Ace Double (H-95, two quarters and a dime at your local drug store paperback rack) contains one novel looking forward in time, and one collection glancing backwards at the author's recent career.
We begin with a brilliant mathematician from California sneaking around through a remote area of Wisconsin, ready to kill a man. We cut away from this scene to find a government agent from Washington, D.C., in Los Angeles, preparing to assassinate the richest man in the world.
Why all this homicidal intent?
Flashbacks tell us what's going on. John Androki is a fellow who shows up out of nowhere. He convinces a rich guy that he can predict exactly how stocks will move up or down in the future. The millionaire sets him up with some cash in exchange for the information. Androki goes on to not only be the wealthiest person on Earth (yep, he's the intended target of the government assassin) but to wield immense political power all over the world.
Our protagonist is Bertram Kane, a brilliant mathematician (yep, he's the guy stalking a man in Wisconsin) who is working on a theory of multiple dimensions. He's a widower who's having an on-again off-again affair with Anita Weber, an art professor. His buddy is Gordon Maxon, a professor of psychology.
Maxon is convinced that Androki can perceive the future (hence the novel's title.) He calls him a downthrough, a word that's new to me. Kane isn't convinced, but when Weber dumps him for the incredibly rich and powerful Androki, he becomes suspicious.
Things get scarier when other mathematicians working on multiple dimensions are murdered. Coincidence, or is Androki arranging for their deaths? And is Kane next on the list?
You may figure out the main plot gimmick, which explains why Kane is out to kill a completely innocent man. (The government assassin's motive is less mysterious. Androki is changing America's relations with other nations in ways the United States government doesn't like.)
Basically a suspense novel with a science fiction gimmick, the plot creates a fair amount of tension, although parts of it are talky. There are quite a few murders along the way, and a pretty grim ending.
Three stars.
So Bright the Vision, by Clifford Simak
Cover art by Gray Morrow.
Four stories, dating from 1956 to 1960, by a noted author appear in this volume.
First printed in the June 1960 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, this lighthearted yarn starts with a huge agate appearing in a guy's yard, along with the tiny critters mentioned in the title. Chaos ensues.
The Noble Editor gave it a lukewarm review when it first appeared, and that's fair. It's a pleasant enough bit of gentle comedy, but hardly profound.
The April 1958 issue of Infinity Science Fiction is the source of this oddly titled (and odd) story.
An elderly fellow collects stamps from alien worlds, piling them up in his rat's nest of a home. Some of the stamps are actually made up of living microorganisms. When mixed with broth made by an overly friendly neighbor, they jump into action and start organizing the guy's messy collection.
There's a strong resemblance to the previous story, which also had tiny creatures helping folks at first, but going a little too far. This one is a lot stranger than the other one, and a little more complex. (I haven't mentioned the role played by stuff that the old man receives from an alien pen pal, or what the weird title means.) Interesting for its eccentricity, if nothing else.
The August 1956 issue of Fantastic Universe supplies the story that gives the collection its title.
At a future time when Earth is in contact with several alien worlds, the only thing of value humans can supply is fiction. Other beings don't make up things that aren't true, and they're fascinated by the concept.
The fiction is created via programmed machines, with a little human input. Writing by hand (or pencil, pen, or typewriter) is considered old-fashioned, and even vulgar.
The plot follows the misadventures of a so-called writer who has fallen on hard times. His machine is on its last legs, and he can't afford a new one. A fellow writer's secret leads to a sudden decision.
Much of the story consists of discussions of the importance of fiction. The automated fiction machines seem intended as a dark satire of uninspired hackwork. It's clearly a heartfelt work, and the author manages to convey his passion.
This yarn comes from the pages of the September 1956 issue of Science Fiction Stories.
A newspaper reporter investigates some odd events. There's the sudden, seemingly merciful death of someone suffering from a terminal illness. A scientist's papers are rearranged, giving him the clue he needs to complete his work. The reporter suggests, in a joking article, that these and other happenings might be the work of brownies. He's not too far off the mark.
Once again we have small beings helping humans. This time their efforts are entirely benign, unlike the golden bugs (who ignored people completely, and only worked for their own goals) and the microorganisms from the alien stamp (who went a little too far in their effort to organize things.) This is a sweet, simple little story, benefiting from the author's own experience as a newspaperman.
Three stars.
The title story is definitely the highlight of the collection. As a whole, that bumps the book up to three and one-half stars.
There's no question that Star Trek is a bona fide phenomenon. Now in its third season (and so far, quite a good season it is), it is a universe that has launched several dozen fan clubs, most with their own 'zines, many with Trek-fiction included. Professional tie-in merchandise is booming, too, from the AMT model kits of the ships in the show, to Stephen Whitfield's indispensable The Making of Star Trek, to Gold Key's dispensable comic book.
The latest release is the very first (that I'm aware of) professional original Trek story, Mission to Horatius by none other than SF veteran Mack Reynolds. That a familiar name should be tapped to write Trek tales is not a surprise. Episodes of the show have been written by SFnal talents Norman Spinrad, Ted Sturgeon, Robert Bloch, Harlan Ellison, Jerome Bixby; and James Blish has written two collections of episode novelizations (well, noveletizations).
So how does Reynolds' effort rate? First, let's look at the story:
The Enterprise has been out on patrol so long that ship's stores are low and the crew is beginning to suffer from "cafard". This malady is a kind of isolation sickness that can lead to mass insanity. Before the ship can return to starbase, however, it receives a distress call from the Horatius system just beyond the Federation.
There are three Class M planets in the system, all inhabited by pioneers who don't want to be Federated. They are the primitive society of Neolithia, which operates in bands and clans; the theological autocracy of Mythria, controlled by a happy drug called "Anodyne" (a la "Return of the Archons"); and the Prussian military state of Bavarya. This world is the most dangerous, as they have designs on conquering the Federation, and they are building an army of clones ("Dopplegangers") toward that end.
Uncertain as to from which planet the distress signal originated, Kirk leads a landing party composed of his senior officers to each planet in turn. Meanwhile, the strings on Uhura's guitar break one by one, and Sulu's pet rat gets loose. Cafard causes 40 crew members to be put in stasis. It's not a happy trip. But in the end, it's a successful one when Kirk finds the that Anna, the daughter of "Nummer Ein" on Bavarya, summoned the Enterprise to thwart her father's nefarious scheme,
Well. There's quite a lot wrong with this book. Reynolds makes serving on the Enterprise feel like the worst duty in the galaxy. Maybe this is realistic, but from what we've seen, the crew isn't this unhappy. As for "cafard", if our nuclear submarine crews don't suffer from such issues, I can't imagine a crack Starfleet crew would.
Reynolds' characterizations are only cursorily accurate. Indeed, Mission feels more like a lesser story in his Analog-published United Planets series of stories, featuring a decentralized set of worlds with every kind of government imaginable. There's an undertone of smugness as Kirk destroys one society after another—first by beaming down an anodyne-antidote into the Mythran water supply (if Scotty can manufacture ten pounds of the stuff in ten minutes, why can't he synthesize new strings for Uhura?), and then by destroying all five million dopplegangers on Bavarya…who may well have been sentient beings.
And finally, McCoy staves off cafard by making the crew believe that Sulu's rat has Bubonic Plague, and that it must be killed to save the ship. The rat does not have a happy ending.
Most eyeroll inducing passage: "Anna, womanlike, had been inspecting Janice Rand's neat uniform. Now she responded to the bows of the men from the Enterprise. She was perhaps in her mid-twenties, blond, and, save for a slight plumpness, attractive."
(emphasis added)
Even accepting that the target audience is on the younger side (given that the publisher is Whitman), this does not really excuse all the problems with Mission to Horatius. Moreover, the stirring introduction seems to have been written for an entirely different story!
There are pictures by Sparky Moore. They are adequate, but the characters don't look too much like our heroes.
Two stars.
by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall
In the run up to Christmas, I received a special treat through my letterbox: a second Orbit anthology for 1968. Will it do better than #3?
Orbit 4
Cover by Paul Lehr
Windsong by Kate Wilhelm
Starting with the series’ most regular contributor, Wilhelm’s story concerns Dan Thornton, an overworked executive. He is trying to solve the problem of an armored computer that should be able to act as a policeman. However, it cannot cope with the stress of unexpected situations. To get solutions he has been working with the psychologist Dr. Feldman to see if his dreams yield any ideas but, instead, he keeps dreaming about Paula. She was a free-spirited “windsong” from his teenage years, a person who could instantly analyse patterns to understand the world in ways others could not.
I have been noticing a pattern emerging with Wilhelm’s writing. She wants to experiment with form and content but rarely manages to deliver a strong balance between the two. In this case it is the style that works well, using the dream sessions in a way that would please the New Wave, but the actual plot leaves something to be desired, not really travelling anywhere fast and engaging in some obvious cliches.
Evens out at Three Stars
Probable Cause by Charles L. Harness
Harness recently returned from his parental leave and is back to writing, getting an even warmer reception this time around. Using his legal background, he brings us the discussion of a supreme court case, one where the constitutionality of a conviction depends on an interesting question. If a search warrant is granted based on a psychic reading, does this violate the fourth and\or fifth amendments?
Whilst some of the arguments here do not make much sense to me, I am neither a lawyer nor an American. As such, I am happy to bow to Harness’ knowledge of constitutional jurisprudence. What I question is the length of it all. At over 60 pages, this is the second longest story to yet grace the pages of Orbit. But it is just some justices sitting in a room discussing a piece of legal theory. This might be worth a vignette, but I needed more to justify a novella.
Two Stars
Shattered Like a Glass Goblin by Harlan Ellison
Rudy has finally gotten out of the army on medical, only to find his fiancée Kris in a marijuana-drenched squat in downtown LA. Is he just not “with it” anymore? Or is something more sinister going on?
If this was from an older writer, I would assume it was a crass attempt to be relevant. With Ellison I am willing to assume he is in earnest in writing a hippy horror story. It is not entirely clear if what we see really happened or if it just a massive drug trip, but that actually makes it work better for me.
Four Stars
This Corruptible by Jacob Transue
This is an author of which no information is given, nor one I've heard of before. Is it perhaps a pseudonym?
Thirty-five years ago, scientists Paul and Andrew departed on bad terms. Whilst the former went into seclusion, the latter became vastly wealthy. Andrew now seeks out Paul after learning of his new discovery, the ability to renew a person’s life.
This reads like a middling story from 15 years ago. Whilst some horrifying imagery raises it up, it is pulled back down by lechery.
Two Stars
Animalby Carol Emshwiller
A strange animal is kept in the city by its keepers. What could it be?
This is a stylistic piece that will depend on your tolerance for this kind of prose:
It was said, on the second day, that he did not look too unhappy. A keeper of particular sensitivity brought him both a grilled cheese sandwich and a hamburger so it might be seen what his preferences were, but still he ate nothing.
This reader was unhappy, feeling nothing.
One Star
One at a Time by R. A. Lafferty
In Barnaby’s Barn, McSkee tells tall tales. But what if they are true?
I feel about Lafferty’s writing the way Superman does about Kryptonite. As such, I struggle with him at the best of times. This one I found it impossible to read. I don’t like bar-room frames or tall tales, I was confused by the style and was generally perplexed throughout.
A subjective One Star
Passengers by Robert Silverberg
In an interesting take on the Puppet Masters concept, Earth has encountered strange creatures called passengers. They can “ride” anyone, at any time, with no way to detect or stop them. Once a Passenger leaves a person, the memory goes. Our narrator wakes up to find he slept with a woman whilst he was ridden. However, upon exercising in Central Park he believes he has found her, even though she doesn’t remember him.
Anyone who has read Silverberg of late knows of his strange recurring writings about young women, so I will not belabour the point here. Your rating will probably result from how you balance the concept against this tendency. I come down in the middle.
Three Stars
Grimm's Story by Vernor Vinge
The planet Tu is a world that contains almost no metals. Whilst some technologies, such as pharmaceuticals, hydrofoils and optics, have been able to develop, others, such as heavier than air flight, have not.
It is on this world that Astronomy student Svir Hedrigs is approached by Tatja Grimm, the science editor of Fantasie magazine. She has a dangerous mission for Hedrigs, to stop the destruction of the last complete collection of Fantasie.
In less skilled hands this could easily have been contrived and fannish. Instead, Vinge spins a fascinating intricate plot and fully imagined world, touching on a number of interesting themes with complicated characters. It stumbles a little at the very end, stopping it from gaining a full five stars, but still very good.
A high four stars
A Few Last Words by James Sallis
Hoover is beset by bad dreams. He decides to head to Doug’s coffee shop where we learn from them why the cities are now so empty.
Well written and atmospheric, appealing to this sufferer of parasomnia.
Four Stars
Continuing a steady Orbit
Once again, Orbit contains some of the best and worst of SF for me. This issue more than most, though, is going to be a subjective one. So much is based on style that it cannot help but appeal to personal taste. I know others have considered Animal among the best and Grimm’s Story among the weakest. Whatever your tastes, I think there will be something in here for you to chew on.
This completely passed me by on first release but an ad for it from the Science Fiction Book Club in last month’s New Worlds was enough to convince me to get it. But was it worth me trialing a membership from them?
The so-called “end of the universe” is an area where physical laws as we know them break down. Sometimes this abstract nothingness recedes, sometimes it expands and swallows galaxies, leaving impossible creations in its wake. The Warden Corps have been set up at its current edge to monitor and explore the strange phenomena.
Among those who come to the current planetoid of the Warden Corps is Helena Kraag. Whilst the daughter of one of the richest men in the galaxy, she has become withdrawn from people since the loss of her mother. At first, she attempts to look straight into the nothingness and loses her sense of identity. In spite of this she still travels with the rest of the crew into this impossibility.
Unfortunately, their Heisenberg shields fail as they enter. As you can probably guess, things start to get strange.
Now, you might expect this to just then be a kind of surreal trip, a la Alice in Wonderland or Phantom Tollbooth. However, what Joseph produces is a kind of fractured character exploration. As we move through these different bizarre situations we learn more about each of the members of the crew and gain understanding of what motivates them.
There are so many delicious details. Initially this looks like it is going to be some kind of 19th Century comedy of manners, but we soon learn this has been carefully set up. Rather it is a kind of conditioning, one to allow the fliers to maintain a solid form of identity. Even when it feels like I am reading the lyrics to I Am The Walrus, there is clear intent and structure behind it.
Joseph is also a master of language and you feel yourself getting knowledge and beauty within the surreality. For example:
Everything and nothing had both happened and not happened; time was as broad as it was long; space was neither here nor there; the loop of eternity threaded itself through the eye of zero.
This kind of sentence could have been gibberish. But the way he phrases it and following the scenarios we have gone through, I absolutely understand what he is getting at.
I could go through all the characters and scenarios to explore the meaning behind it, but I think it is better to take the journey yourself. As Helena says, it is “like falling through the hole in the zero.” It may not be something that is at once fathomable but it is a new experience worth having.
Although primarily known as a poet, he clearly understands science fiction well and has an affinity for it (see, for example, the poem "Mars Ascending"). Here is hoping for more such forays.
Moondust by Thomas Burnett Swann takes place in and around the ancient city of Jericho. Swann’s Jericho is a poverty-ridden city ruled by the Egyptians, its denizens apprehensive about the steady approach of the Wanderers, a flood of former slaves absconding from Egypt.
Bard ekes out a meager existence in this city with his mother and beautiful younger brother Ram. Ram is stolen one night and replaced by an unbecoming changeling. Bard accepts the fat, ugly Rahab and comes to think of her as a sister until years later when an elusive, feline creature known as a fennec arrives. Rahab then magically transforms into a beautiful woman with wings and disappears one night.
Determined to rescue Rahab, Bard enlists the aid of his friend, Zeb. Together they track Rahab down to the underground city, Honey Heart, where the fennecs rule as gods and Rahab’s kind, the People of the Sea along with beautiful human males–including the long lost Ram– are docile slaves to the fennecs. Bard and Zub must now find a way to wrest Rahab from the insidious control of the fennecs and make it out of Honey Heart alive.
Moondust is a highly imaginative and reasonably interesting story but I did not—could not bring myself to enjoy it. At first, I couldn’t quite put my finger on what bothered me about this novel. Then it finally occurred to me. This book has no soul, no humanity. Moondust feels like a book written from the clinical lens of a white Westerner who thinks he’s better than the people he’s writing about.
Apparently, people living in poverty must always be dirty and have very little regard for personal hygiene. If humans own slaves, those slaves must be black. What else could they possibly be? Beautiful women are nothing but whores. Fat people are ugly, and the Israelites had very big, very ugly feet.
I believe these small details were meant to add color to the story’s world, but obviously originate from a place of thinly veiled disdain.
The main character, Bard, is not one with whom I could sympathize. His little brother is stolen—kidnapped in the dead of night. Even though Bard bemoans the loss, not once does it occur to the self-absorbed nincompoop to go looking for his five-year-old sibling. Instead, he magnanimously accepts the supposedly fat, ugly changeling named Rahab left in his brother’s place as a sister and simply carries on with his life as if that makes any sense.
Years later, when Rahab literally sheds her “ugly” skin and becomes a beautiful creature of a woman, she then becomes a harlot. What else could she possibly become?
When Rahab disappears, summoned back to the underground city of Honey Heart by the fennec, Chackal, Bard immediately enlists the aid of his friend, Zeb and races off in search of his beloved sister. This raises the question of why he was so desperate to save the sibling unrelated by blood–who left voluntarily–but had possessed no inclination to go off in search of his biological brother, Ram.
Once Bard and Zeb descend into Honey Heart, the story loses all coherence for me. The contrived mish-mash of magic, ancient Eastern culture, and biblical myth falls short of a finely woven tale. Moondust merely rankled.
If I’ve learned anything from Swann it’s that you can learn the history and possess infinite academic knowledge of a culture but your words aren’t going to touch anyone if you can’t actually feel the soul—the humanity of the people.
Three Stars
by Jason Sacks
One Before Bedtime by Richard Linkroum
What an odd novel. One Before Bedtime is part mad scientist novel, part social satire, part speculative fiction, and part self-centered character rationalization.
I'm not sure this is a good book, per se, but is certainly odd.
See, in a way, this book is all about the social satire. It's about Jeff Baxter, a kid just home from Vietnam, where he's seen some stuff, man, and who has gone back to work at his a pharmacy in his small midwestern town. Jeff just has one minor problem: his skin is in rough shape and he needs for it to clear up so his girlfriend can be happy. Thankfully (perhaps), the pharmacist turns out to be a tinkerer. Cortland Pedigrew has his own set of chemicals and other tools in the basement of the pharmacy. Pedigrew invents a pill which can clear Jeff's skin.
There's just one problem. The pill somehow turns Jeff's skin from White to Black.
And there the troubles begin.
Because Jeff's girlfriend, Peggy, is a bit of a militant and freedom fighter. She walks around everywhere barefoot and speaks at rallies for Black rights and sings folk songs and reminds one of someone like Joan Baez in her steadfast commitment to the hottest social issues of the day. (She probably wouldn't have cared about Jeff's skin, either, but the poor guy was too self-deluded to notice.)
As the story goes on, Jeff, Peggy and several other characters find themselves mixed up in campus protests, urban riots, and unreasonable hatred. Along the way they're forced to see their own prejudices – often reflexive and instinctive – and, well, pretty much stay the same people they were before the events in this book start.
On top of all the oddball problems I've just described, this 168-page quickie is written from different perspectives. We get no fewer than four different approaches to this character's story, each exceeding the previous one in its banality and strange affect. I kept wondering, over and over, how dumb these characters are, how stuck in their idiotic ways they are so they can't actually see the world differently than they did before their loved one was turned black?
Of course, that's also all part of author Linkroum's goal here, I'm sure. It's clear from his approach that he's interested in exploring the idea that racism is arbitrary and simple-minded, that mere skin color is not a diffentiator of the worth of a person, and that our present great national troubles are as absurd as his chracters all act here.
If only Mr. Linkroum had been more satirical, more biting in his humor. Instead the plot of One Before Bedtime all feels a bit undercooked, a bit bland and a bit too on-the-nose for it to really work for me.
I tried looking up Richard Linkroum in my collection of science fiction mags and found no other examples of his work. This is despite the fact that the book was published in hardcover by J.P. Lippincott, a reputable publisher. Finally I was tipped that there's a TV producer who goes by Dick Linkroum who might be our author here. That makes sense because One Before Bedtime reads like a bad episode of the old Twilight Zone: a bit undercooked and way too preachy.
![[December 4, 1968] Sign Me Up (January 1969 <i>Amazing</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/amz-0169-cover-355x372.png)
![[December 2, 1968] Forget It (January 1969 <i>IF</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/1969-01-IF-cover-560x372.jpg)
Leonid Brezhnev after addressing the Soviet Central Committee earlier this year.
Just some random art not associated with any of the stories. Art by Chaffee
Rex investigates the first portal. Art by Jack Gaughan
Doesn’t look like any of the X-Men I know. Beast maybe? Art by Brock
Anubis doesn’t want Wakim to learn who he really is. Art by P. Reiber
Farris is imprisoned with his political nemesis. Art by Brand
That was the look on my face at about this point in the story. Art by Reese
I wonder if he’s always this dapper. Art by Gaughan
Can’t say anything here really excites me.![[November 30, 1968] Up, Up, and Around! (December 1968 <i>Analog</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/681130cover-575x372.jpg)
![[November 28, 1968] Puppet on a String (<i>Star Trek</i>: "Plato's Stepchildren")](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/681128title-672x372.jpg)
![[November 26, 1968] Warhol, Delany, Cornelius and Perversity <i>New Worlds</i>, December 1968](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/new-worlds-december-1968-672x372.jpg)
Cover by Gabi Nasemann
Picture by James Cawthorn
(And where would New Worlds be without a provocative photo or a mention of J. G. Ballard? This is an advertisement on the back cover.)
![[November 24th, 1968] Old Friends And Older Enemies (<i>Doctor Who</i>: The Invasion, Episodes 1-4)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/681124isheusinghisrecorderasatelecope-672x372.jpg)
![[Nov. 22, 1968] Bound to thrill (<i>Star Trek</i>: "The Tholian Web")](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/681122title-672x372.jpg)
![[November 20, 1968] Transitory and lasting pleasures (December 1968 <i>F&SF</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/681120cover-672x372.jpg)
![[November 18, 1968] Pioneers and Protons (a space round-up)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/681118aurora-672x372.jpg)
