[September 16, 1967] A quick tour round the Fan Hugos

September 16, 2022 Alison Scott 6 Comments

by Alison Scott

You will have to make, I fear, some allowances for your fanzine correspondent, recently returned – as reported only a couple of days ago by the Traveler – from the World Science Fiction Convention.

The Fan Hugos – not, thank goodness, the Pongs – were awarded for Best Fan Writer and Best Fan Artist as well as Best Fanzine. They instantly caused controversy because Jack Gaughan won for both Best Professional Artist and Best Fan Artist. However, Gaughan is a prolific and generous fan artist, contributing covers and interior illustrations to many fanzines, as well as doing fine professional illustrations. It seems to me that it is possible for someone to produce both fan and professional work in the same year. But we are reliant on the voting fans to not confuse the two, or to vote purely based on 'name' quality.

Alexei Panshin's win for Best Fan Writer surely reflects the publication of his critical book Heinlein in Dimension over the previous year, primarily in one of the nominated fanzines, Riverside Quarterly. This book has had a strange history; Panshin wrote it under contract but on reflection (and perhaps worry of a suit from the subject of the book) the publishers decided not to go ahead with it, so he published it in sections in fanzines, predominantly RQ. This only counts as fan writing by the narrowest of margins, but it is fine work and it's not surprising the Hugo voters saw fit to reward it.

Meanwhile, I have brought back to London a veritable heap of fanzines, and by a happy coincidence every fanzine that was nominated for a Hugo last year has continued to publish. They have all, in the wake of their nominations, mentioned the possibility of the fanzine Hugo being renamed the Pong, and unsurprisingly none of them were in favour of it.

NIEKAS 18, Spring 1967, edited by Ed Meskys and Felice Rolfe

Cover of Niekas 18, by Warren Preston

NIEKAS won Best Fanzine for 1966. This issue is notable chiefly for the variety of material on offer. You might call it uneven. The lead article here, from Ben Solon, aims to directly counter Panshin's reading of Heinlein. It is not, I think, as compelling an argument. The fanzine continues with a pun-filled faanfiction story. Faanfiction, as distinct from fan fiction, is fiction about science fiction fandom. Most of it does not repay careful reading, and some of it does not repay reading at all. There is a reprint of John Brunner's address to Tricon, a strange mixture of industry anecdotes, Brunner's customary self-aggrandisement, and a passionate call to action for science fiction to be, well, better. More challenging, more speculative, and more daring.

John Brunner addresses Tricon, by Jay Jay Klein

Otherwise here we have a partial glossary of Middle Earth, a relatively dull overview of SF in Denmark that could have done with an edit, and then, tucked in at the end, the transcript of a half-hour telephone call with JRR Tolkien by Harry Resnik. Resnik explained that he had agreed to have transatlantic tea, and set the call, and the recorder, for 11am Eastern, 4pm UK. The interview, one of the most detailed yet given by the Lord of the Rings author, is followed up by an equally illuminating Tolkien Society discussion. Startling, but well hidden.

Australian Science Fiction Review 11, August 1967, edited by John Bangsund

"Cordwainer Smith illustration" by Steve Rasmussen from ASFR 11

Such a contrast from NIEKAS! ASFR is a serious critical fanzine with only the slightest fannish side. The editors had an article in preparation about the works of Cordwainer Smith. When the man behind the pseudonym, Paul Linebarger, died last year they decided to go further. Linebarger/Smith's death has not been covered by the Journey as far as I can see, but he was a great loss to our field. He leaves a fine if limited oeuvre, and this fanzine features a detailed obituary by a man who knew him well, a critical consideration of the work, a conversation by the authors of those two pieces, and a bibliography. ASFR 11 also features an index to the first ten issues of ASFR; Harry Warner Jr. is on record as quipping it's about time someone produced an Index to the Indices, a sentiment I understand entirely. But the value of indices of this kind in helping us locate articles and information is invaluable.

Lighthouse 15, August 1967

Cover of Lighthouse 15 by Jack Gaughan

Ben Solon writes in the letter column "a fanzine of this size and quality seems to inhibit as much comment as it inspires". This fanzine is very good. The pieces hang together far better as a whole, and their general quality is higher than those in, say NIEKAS. It is also far more fannish, with multiple articles that provide insight into the life, and not merely the reading habits, of the authors. Most of those authors are professionals; Carr is well-connected and persuasive. Lighthouse is at its best when it is at its most personal. A well-researched article by Fritz Leiber about the Anima Archetype in science fantasy is less beguiling somehow than an amusing travelogue by Samuel R Delany. And how enticing is the home life of Terry and Carol Carr, as seen through the lens of their fan writing? This would have my vote.

Yandro 172, June 1967, edited by Buck and Juanita Coulson
Yandro 173, August 1967, edited by Buck and Juanita Coulson

Cover of Yandro 173 by Cynthia Goldstone

Yandro 172 (June 1967) and 173 (August 1967) are bundled wtih a flyer advertising the Pan-Pacificon bid to hold the 1968 World Science Fiction convention in both Los Angeles and Tokyo! This would be very exciting but I am not at all sure how it would work, the flyer does not explain, and in any event this bid did not win and next year's World SF Convention will be Baycon. Linked to this is a flyer for the Trans-Oceanic Fan Fund, aiming to bring Japanese fan Takumi Shibano to the World SF Convention. Yandro – a much shorter and more frequent fanzine than some of these – normally features news, reviews and letters, together with one or two longer articles. In 172, the long article in this issue consists of a round-up of the current state of Swedish science fiction fandom from Bo Stenfors. This is fascinating stuff and I hope that the Journey can attract a Swedish correspondent soon. More unusually, 173 gives a great deal of space to Star Trek, with a bibliography by Ruth Berman covering almost every serious and trivial article about the show and its leads. She remarks that far more attention is given to Shatner and Nimoy than to the creators or to the actors in more minor roles. "There are no articles about Gene Roddenberry, who chiefly deserves credit for Star Trek… yet the various articles on the actors and the show… show him as a man of integrity and humor". Yandro's essential for news and updates but there are better fanzines here.

Habakkuk, Chapter II, verse 3, February 1967, edit by Bill Donaho

Cover of Habakkuk Chapter II, verse 3 by Steve Stiles

In most of these fanzines you would scarcely know that the United States is at war with Viet Nam. But Habbukuk has columns from the recently drafted Steve Stiles, now in basic training, and Colin Cameron, exploring the upsides and downsides of life in the army on active service. Otherwise this issue has a long editorial from Donaho. It is tedious on the matter of the parties he has attended recently, which are clearly more exciting to attend than to read about. It perks up, however, when he tells of officiating at what the papers called an 'LSD wedding'.

It has been a while since this issue came out; there were two in 1966 so hopefully we'll see another one soon.

Trumpet 5, April 1967, edited by Tom Reamy

Interior illo from Trumpet 5 by Rob Purim

This is a fantastically well-produced offset litho fanzine full of good clear photos of fans taken at Tricon. It's a delight to see pictures of so many of the folks whose fanzines I've been enjoying.

It's only slightly marred by an entirely nude photo of a woman, devoid of SF content, fantasy content or clothes, on the contents page. Fan artists and photographers; think before doing this, and don't confuse erotica with science fiction, even if we often buy them both in the same bookshops.

The rest of the content, while beautifully produced, largely leaves me cold. There is SF and faanfiction here, and a lengthy deconstruction of Doctor Strangelove by Richard Hodgens that takes rather too long to say rather too little. I very much enjoyed the cartooning of Rob Pudim in this issue but overall I would have to say that Trumpet is a triumph of production values over content.

Riverside Quarterly Volume 3, No. 1, August 1967, edited by Leland Shapiro

Cover of a previous issue of Riverside Quarterly by ATom (Arthur Thomson)

The 1966 issues of RQ had concluded Alexei Panshin's deconstruction of Robert Heinlein, Heinlein in Dimension. Jack Williamson's thesis on HG Wells is thin gruel by comparison, though careful, thoughtful stuff. Writing in Australian SF Review, John Bangsund describes Riverside Quarterly as "a bit too serious for my liking", and I am pretty sure that his enthusiasm for serious consideration of science fiction is way greater than mine. However there is a lot of interest here; in particular, for fans of SF poetry, there are a dozen poems here, some very good.

All of these fanzines have deep, interesting letter columns, where some of the great SF writers and fans of the day engage with the serious and less serious topics raised. Many of the correspondents write to several, or all, of these fanzines, and you can see the most important topics of our age being worked through in real time.

Overall, what does this crop of finalist fanzines and their contributors tell us about the state of science fiction fandom here in 1967? I would argue that it shows that it is in great health. The willingness of professional writers and artists in the field to contribute to, and engage with, fanzines can only be good for the development of the art and craft of science fiction. And, as they have done for half a century, fanzines remain a great way for fans to understand not just the genre, but the profession. And the three Hugos for fan activity will give us a chance to celebrate and reward the best of them.

(Thanks to FANAC, without whom this article would not have been possible)

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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[September 14, 1967] Stuck in the Past (October 1967 Galaxy)

September 14, 2022 Gideon Marcus 12 Comments

by Gideon Marcus

The deuce, you say!

The other day, a BNF opined that I was kind of a sourpuss, not really liking anything I reviewed. Moreover, he contended that my perspective is irretrievably tainted, and that I cannot appreciate fiction of the '60s with an objective eye. Indeed, sometimes it seems like I don't like '60s science fiction much at all.

Well, he's right.

Sort of. The thing is, I sometimes don't like the science fiction of the '60s…at least, not as consistently as I enjoyed the science fiction of the 1950s.

Perhaps it is a subjective thing. After all, what can contend with the thrill I felt opening up my first issue of Galaxy (way back in Fall 1950!) and being bowled over by this new magazine's quality. I had dabbled in SF before, but the age of the digest, what I like to term “The Silver Age” (if Campbell's Astounding heyday was “The Golden Age”) really sold the genre to me.

What a rush that first half decade was. The efflorescence of magazines (at one point, there were forty SFF periodicals in print), the wide range of subjects. Sure, there was a lot of crap. After all, 90% of everything is crap. But there was so much science fiction in the mags that if you stuck to the cream, you could be assured of month after month of nothing but quality readings.

And there were women. After a swell in feminine participation in the 'zines of the late '40s and early '50s, there was a subsequent surge in women writing in the mid '50s—most notably in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, but lots of other mags, too. SF has never been so eclectic.

What have we got these days? Well, the paperback is putting paid to the mags, which means (as Spinrad noted recently) short form is drying up. Paperback anthologies might remedy that situation someday, but they haven't yet.

As for the magazines, there are just six English-language ones left, two of them mostly reprints and one, Galaxy, a bimonthly since 1959. You'd think with so many fewer slots for stories, the fiction would be better. That turns out not to be the case. I think the really good writers are saving their typing fingers for the sure bucks—the novels and the screenplays. Or, at least their good stuff.

Case in point: this month's Galaxy. It's got some big names, but is this the best they can offer what was once scientifiction's premier magazine?

by Gray Morrow, illustrating Transmogrification

A long slog

Damnation Alley, Roger Zelazny

About half of the mag is taken up with Zelazny's novella, Damnation Alley, about a trip across war-savaged America sometime in the near future. Hell Tanner is a hellraiser, a criminal, a motorcycle enthusiast…and the best driver in the Western Hemisphere. On the way to the Big House, he's offered a deal: take a vital shipment of drugs across the country from San Diego to Boston in an armored car; in return, he gets a full pardon.

Hell takes the deal, leading a three-car convoy into “damnation alley”, a scenic tour of blighted USA. We're treated to violent storms that drop frogs and sharks from hundreds of miles away, giant mutant Gila lizards, radiated hellscapes, bandits, marauding biker gangs, and the occasional stretch of considerate humanity. Now that I write this, it occurs to me it might make a pretty movie, at least of the B Class.

by Jack Gaughan

But B Class is all it would be. Zelazny has written some of this field's best work recently, garnering well-deserved Hugo nominations and wins. But Alley is lesser Zelazny, a mildly engaging but prosaic trip across a wild world. Several times, I found my eyes unfocusing and a voice in the back of my mind muttering, “Why do I care?” The story doesn't say anything, feature anyone particularly interesting, nor really justify the Roger Corman monstrosities Tanner encounters. What's left is competent writing. It's not enough.

Three stars.

Poulfinch's Mythology, Poul Anderson

by Virgil Finlay

I always enjoy the conceit of aliens or far-future anthropologists examining current culture (and often coming to ridiculous conclusions). One of my favorite examples was Horace Coon's 43,000 AD, where three alien archaeologists try to make sense of pre-nuclear America.

Poul Anderson, aided by the exquisite Virgil Finlay, has taken another stab at things, reducing the principal values of mid-century United States (at least as Anderson sees them) to a pantheon of idealized beings.

Some of the entries are funny, but I feel Anderson is going beyond satire to sell his own spin on America, one I'm not entirely on board with. In particular, I can't agree with his unalloyed exaltation of “Keen”, God of Money, nor his lumping of the Klan with civil rights marchers in the form of “Brothergood” (whom he asserts “raped” Lady Liberty repeatedly).

Two or three stars, depending on your tastes.

For Your Information: The Worst of All Comets, Willy Ley

Ley's science article, on comets, is serviceable. It's been a long time since his column has been the highlight of the magazine, though, as it was in the earlier part of the 1950s.

Three stars.

The Transmogrification of Wamba's Revenge, H. L. Gold

by Gray Morrow

How's this for a throwback? H.L. Gold was Galaxy's first editor, helming the magazine through its first, most glorious decade. But he started as a writer, and now he's back with this strange novelette. Told from the viewpoint of an African “Pigmy” princess, it involves a western scientist, his treacherous wife, and an unscrupulous big game hunter. When the hunter and wife start an amorous liaison, Princess Wamba mickeys them with a shrinking potion, reducing them to one tenth their normal size.

The scientist sees Nobel Prize written all over this development, and he undertakes a study of the Pigmy invention, which shrinks all animals except for Pigmies themselves. Mildly droll high jinks ensue, followed by a surprisingly happy ending.

Very slight stuff, probably better suited for F&SF, but I appreciated the heroine and the sentiment, if not the science.

Three stars.

Understanding, George O. Smith

by R. Dorfman

Every so often, a story comes along with nothing overtly wrong with it, yet with such a profound soporific effect that multiple sessions are required. Such is the case with this novelette, about an adolescent trapped in an alien city, being herded by the city government toward an unknown destination for an unknown purpose. Only the appearance of an intelligent, talking dog named Beauregarde may prove an unanticipated wrinkle in their plans.

It's forty pages, and it induced four naps. 'Nuph said. Two stars.

A Galaxy of Fashion, Frederik Pohl and Carol Pohl

Those who went to Nycon 3 or last year's Tricon were treated to Carol Pohl's “Galaxy of Fashion” at the annual costume ball. For those who couldn't attend, here's an accompanying set of illustrations. It's hard to imagine these styles catching on or being at all practical, but who knows? Maybe mismatched pantleg length will be all the rage in a century.

Galaxy Bookshelf, Algis Budrys

Capping out the issue, the always literate Algis talks about the New Wave. He notes that there is plenty good stuff coming out now, and it's not your grandpa's (or at least your father's) science fiction. In particular, he praises the quartet of Aldiss, Ballard, Zelazny, and Delany. He describes Aldiss as “the least talented” and Ballard “the least intelligent”, saving most of his praise for Delany, who he calls “less disciplined than Ellison”.

I suppose that's the price we pay, right? The old scene is dead, and what's left is folks either picking its bones or forging something completely new. The new stuff isn't always a success (I have no real use for Ballard), but it often is. I guess the real problem is there just isn't enough being produced right now. In the old days, you could skip the dross and still have plenty to read all the time. Nowadays, there's only enough to read including the dross.

Which is why my articles haven't been quite so glowing lately. Sorry about that. It'd help if other people didn't always get the Delany stories…

But I still love what I do, and I still often love what I read. Really. Certainly, our Galactic Stars, our annual list of the year's best SF, are a testament to that. Also, women seem to be coming back, to the benefit of our genre. And if we leave the printed word, well, I've been unreserved in my adoration for Star Trek, what Campbell calls “the first adult science fiction show on television.”

So, my dear BNF friend, please understand that if I sometimes appear grumpy or overly critical of this genre we both love, it's because I have to sift through the kaka to get to the rose. And hey, it's not just me: Ted White, Joanna Russ, Algis Budrys, Judy Merril…they all have their grumpy days too, for the same reason.

Nevertheless, of course I still find gems, and I'm always delighted when I do. And if you want more cheerful news that'll bring more folks to our field, well, tune in to the Galactic Stars. I guarantee that slew of greatness will be a tonic for any doldrums!

Speaking of Star Trek, the new season starts TOMORROW! Hope you'll join us, tiger…

Here's the invitation!

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Book, TV

[September 12, 1967] Heavens Above! (The Fifteenth Pelican and The Flying Nun)

September 12, 2022 Victoria Silverwolf 1 Comment

by Victoria Silverwolf

Birds of a Feather

Cover art by Arthur J. King.

The Fifteenth Pelican, by Tere Ríos

Tere Ríos is the name used by writer Marie Teresa Ríos on her books, such as An Angel Grows Up (1957), Brother Angel (1963), and the one under discussion, which came out last year. I haven't read those other two, but the titles suggest that they might have something to do with the author's Catholic faith, which is also reflected in her newest work. (Even the cover artist, who also supplies several interior illustrations, is a Catholic priest.)

The Fifteenth Pelican is a whimsical tale about Sister Bertrille, a nun newly arrived at a convent in Puerto Rico. The most notable thing about Sister Bertrille is that she is tiny; four foot ten and weighing only seventy-five pounds.

The nuns wear large hats that look like wings. Given the fact that Puerto Rico is very windy, you can probably already see where this is going.

While hanging laundry on the roof of the convent, a gust of wind lifts Sister Bertrille into the air. At night, she has what she thinks of as dreams of flying with a flock of fourteen pelicans. (Hence the title.) In fact, she is really soaring through the air with them.

During one of these nocturnal excursions, she lands at a hush-hush military base. Suspected of being a spy, Sister Bertrille has to prove that she just flew in by accident.

That's about all there is to this slim little book. There's some stuff about Sister Bertrille's work with the orphans at the convent, but that has nothing to do with the plot. It's made absolutely clear that Sister Bertrille's flight is not miraculous, but simply a matter of aerodynamics. We're told more than once that if lift plus thrust is greater than load plus drag, the result is flight.

I, for one, don't believe that a strong wind is enough to allow a seventy-five pound woman to fly, even with the help of wings on her head. Nevertheless, I suppose the attempt at a rational explanation makes the book science fiction rather than fantasy.

Like Sister Bertrille herself, The Fifteenth Pelican is as light as a feather, a bit of fluff best described as cute. I suspect it would quickly be forgotten, were it not for the fact that some television executive got ahold of it, and thought it would make a good series.

Gidget Goes To San Juan

Actress Sally Field, not yet twenty-one years old, got her start while still a teenager in the title role of the television series Gidget. By my count, she's the fourth actress to play the part of the petite surfer girl, after Sandra Dee, Deborah Walley, and Cindy Carol. (Yes, I know too much about beach movies.)

The series lasted only one season, but it became something of a hit during summer reruns. Eager to provide their young star with a new situation comedy, the folks at Screen Gems came up with something. It wasn't called The Fifteenth Pelican.

Field plays the part of Sister Bertrille. We're still at the same fictional convent in San Juan, Puerto Rico. It's still really windy, and she still wears the big hat that looks like a pair of wings.

Field isn't quite as small as the character in the novel. She's about five foot two (but without eyes of blue) and is said to weigh ninety pounds. That makes her ability to soar in the wind even more unlikely, but that's television for you.

The pilot, which aired last Thursday, had a one-hour time slot. I think the show will normally be a half-hour series, which is typical for an American situation comedy. It was narrated by a new character, Sister Jacqueline, played by Marge Redmond. She recently appeared as a nun in the movie The Trouble With Angels, so I guess it's typecasting.

She's a friendly, down-to-earth type, who supplies wry commentary throughout the pilot. At her side is Sister Sixto, played by Shelley Morrison. She's a Puerto Rican nun who provides comedy in questionable taste with her mangling of English idioms.

Unlike the rather meek character in the book, the TV version of Sister Bertrille is a perky, outgoing, slightly rebellious sort. We're even told she spent time in jail for participating in a free speech protest.

She quickly tries to improve conditions for the young orphans at the convent by holding concerts and such. (This subjects the viewer to a cloyingly sweet song, which we'll suffer through twice. Believe me, it makes the saccharine songs in The Sound of Music sound like rock 'n' roll.)

This newfangled way of doing nun stuff earns the disapproval of the head of the convent, Reverend Mother Superior Placido, played by Madeleine Sherwood. She's a stern, old-fashioned type. Needless to say, she's not very happy about the fact that Sister Bertrille takes to the sky now and then.

As in the book, Sister Bertrille accidentally lands at a secured military base, and has to answer a lot of awkward questions. That's cleared up pretty quickly, leaving some military types befuddled.

More important is a subplot not found in the novel. Sister Bertrille keeps running into a new character, Carlos Ramirez, played by Alejandro Rey. He's a playboy who runs a discothèque/gambling den. Sister Bertrille first encounters him when she winds up on his yacht full of bikini-clad beauties, where Ramirez is busy trying to seduce one of them into spending the weekend with him.

This adds a tiny bit of sex appeal to an otherwise squeaky clean series. Given the fact that the Catholic Church provided technical advice for the pilot, I don't think we're going to see romantic tension between Sister Bertrille and the fun-loving bachelor.

Anyway, Ramirez owns a piece of land that the convent could use for a new school, but he doesn't want to donate it. When Sister Bertrille flies by his private airplane as he's on route to a weekend getaway with yet another gorgeous girlfriend, he thinks it's a religious vision and gives up the land.

The whole thing is very silly, of course. It takes the gentle whimsy of the book and turns it into broad comedy. Like many American sitcoms, it's ruined by an obnoxious laugh track. The hour-long pilot (forty-odd minutes without the commercials) really drags. Maybe it'll be more tolerable cut down to a half-hour (twenty-something minutes) next time.

Or you could turn off the television and listen to KGJ for all the hits, all the time!

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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[September 10, 1967] Women's liberation! (September 1967 Galactoscope)

September 10, 2022 Victoria Silverwolf 2 Comments

I have lamented for some time that we've been at a nadir of female participation in our peculiar genre. If this month's clutch of books be any indication, that trend is finally reversing, to the benefit (for the most part) of all of us science fiction readers!

by Victoria Silverwolf

Wordplay

Two new science fiction novels arrived this month with one-word titles that don't show up in my dictionary. No doubt that's meant to intrigue the potential reader, and create the sense of strangeness associated with much SF. Let's take a look at them and see if we can figure out what the titles mean.

Restoree, by Anne McCaffrey

Anonymous cover art.

Sara is a very ordinary young woman, maybe a little less content with her life than most. She considers herself unattractive, and is particularly sensitive about her large nose. She runs off from an unhappy home to take a job in New York City.

While walking through Central Park one night (not a wise thing for an unaccompanied woman to do, I'd think) she is abducted and taken aboard an alien spacecraft. The opening of the novel is a chaos of strange and disturbing sensations, so we don't really figure this out for a while, but it becomes clear later.

In a way that isn't explained until late in the book, she winds up in a
new body. For some time, she's in a dazed, zombie-like condition, only slowly coming to full awareness. The good news is that she's beautiful, with golden skin and a perfect nose. The bad news is that she's enslaved as a sort of nursemaid to a fellow in a mindless state.

Eventually, she figures out that the fellow has been drugged into catatonia by the bad guys. She helps him return to normal by reducing the amount of drugged food he consumes. The two escape from the hospital/prison and a tale of palace intrigue and space opera adventure begins.

The plot gets pretty complicated, and there are lots of characters with odd names, so I got lost at times. (The drugged man's name is Harlan, by the way; a reference to one of the author's fellow writers? Anyway, he's got the only name I've ever seen before, other than the heroine's.)

Suffice to say that Sara is on another planet, although the inhabitants are completely human. Harlan is the Regent for the planet's young Warlord. The bad guys drugged him, faking it as insanity, in order to control the government in his place. Add in aliens that Harlan's people have been fighting for millennia and rival factions for the throne. A further complication is that Sara has to hide the fact that she's a restoree (there's that word!) or she is likely to be killed as an abomination.

Besides all this science fiction stuff, there are a lot of romance novel aspects to the book. The beautiful, virginal heroine and the dark, mysterious hero fall in love, finally consummating their passion in sex scenes that are far from explicit. I also found a fair amount of subtle humor in the novel, as if the author has her tongue firmly in her cheek. What the evil aliens do to the people they capture stirs in a bit of gruesome horror as well.

The characters, for the most part, are either all good or all bad. The only ambiguous one is the brilliant physician who gave Sara her new body, in the forbidden and universally reviled procedure that made her a restoree. (If he hadn't, she would just be dead.) He does seem to be genuinely concerned with healing the afflicted, but he also works with the bad guys.

Kind of a silly book, really, but mildly entertaining if you turn your brain off. It's the author's first published novel, so let's just say that she shows promise.

Two stars.

Croyd, by Ian Wallace

More anonymous cover art.

The explanation for the title is simple enough; Croyd is the hero's name. He has no other, as far as I can tell.

Croyd is some kind of agent for the galactic government. He is also a Van Vogtian superhuman, with a brain that allows him to do things like go back and forth in time. While waiting to hear the details of his latest assignment, he saves a lady in distress from an abusive man.

There's a lot more to the woman than he realizes. It seems that an alien from another galaxy, bent on conquering the inhabitants of the Milky Way, has her mind inside the woman's body. Next thing you know, her mind is inside Croyd's body, and his is inside the woman's.

The woman's mind is still inside her body as well, so she and Croyd share it as they track down the alien who stole Croyd's body. Meanwhile, a gang of beatnik terrorists are planning to send the asteroid Ceres crashing into Nereid, one of Neptune's moons, where there's a government base. The alien in Croyd's body has to deal with this, to convince people that she's really Croyd.

Things get really complicated. There are alien agents among the government staff, with the ability to hypnotize people into turning against humanity. There's another group of aliens that wants to destroy the entire Milky Way rather than conquer it. Both Croyd in the woman's body and the alien in Croyd's body have to fight their nefarious scheme. There's even a second Croyd mind that shows up inside his purloined body. This one is a stupid brute, intent only on animal pleasures.

With all this going on, and characters rushing back and forth in space and time, this is definitely a wild roller coaster ride. I didn't believe any of it for a second. If McCaffrey's book often has the feeling of a stereotypical woman's romance novel, with science fiction trappings, Wallace's frequently seems like a stereotypical men's adventure novel, with the same decorations.

Two stars.

by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

With the New Wave such a strong force in British science fiction at the moment there is a real blurring of the boundaries of what is speculative and what is literary experimentation.

6 Covers: Squares of the City, Greybeard, The Assassination Weapon, The Magus, The Third Policeman, The Master and Margarita — Science fiction or experimental literature? Which is which?

If they had not come of Science fiction publishers and\or from science fiction authors would we consider Squares of the City, Greybeard or Ballard’s cut-up tales to be speculative? By the same token if Fowles’ Magus, O’Brien’s Third Policeman or Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita had been published as Ballantine Paperbacks from Cordwainer Smith or Daniel Keyes, would they be on the Hugo Ballot?

This leads into probably one of the most interesting edge cases of recent years, where the author says she had no intention of writing science fiction but it is hard for the SF community to see it as anything else:

Ice, by Anna Kavan

In contrast to some recent writers, Kavan’s move into the speculative realm is not as much of a leap. She has been writing since the twenties and her works have often made use of experimental and surrealist techniques, commonly looking at madness and incarceration.

As anyone who has read the stranger side of science fiction, such as Philip K. Dick, these kind of ideas are often played with in the speculative space. However, in this work it definitely feels like she walks over the 49th parallel into SFnal Canada.

In Ice we follow our unnamed protagonist (no one has names here) through a world where society is collapsing under the weight of a frozen disaster. Our narrator seems to be in pursuit of a young woman near the start but the full motivations remain obscure as, even though written in the first person, it is narrated in a very matter of fact style.

In many ways this reminded me of Ballard’s elemental apocalypses, where The Drowning World flooded the world and The Drought boiled it, this one has frozen it. And all involve the characters moving through the disaster riven Earth in a dream-like state, as we get to see insights into their state of mind.

However, where Ballard does more direct exploration of his inner-space, Kavan keeps everything very cold and clinical, written in sharp fragments such as this description of the aftermath of a rape:

Later in the day she did not move, gave no indication of life, lying exposed on the ruined bed as on a slab in a mortuary. Sheets and blankets spilled on to the floor, trailed over the edge of the dais. Her head hung over the edge of the bed in a slightly unnatural position, the neck slightly twisted in a way that suggested violence, the bright hair twisted into a sort of rope by his hands.

There is no mention of our narrator’s feelings on this, it is treated in a disassociated manner, as if he is outside the events being described. This in itself gives us insight, but predominantly by the absence of explanation than by the paucity of it.

Yet, it remains dreamlike in another way, for it follows through in a manner that feels coincidental and directionless. They move between scenes in a way that often led me to look back if I had missed anything. In addition there are regular hallucinations throughout, meaning that we have extra questions as to the reality of what we are seeing.

But I believe this is the point: we are meant to feel isolated and abstracted, just as the protagonist does. To see what we as the reader are appalled and terrified by this world, yet we see someone completely numb to it all as our guide.

I could take you through various sections but really it is one of those books you need to experience, to delve into the atmosphere and feelings (or rather lack thereof) in order to truly understand.

A very high four stars.

by Gideon Marcus

Bringing up the Rear

Ace Books, regular as clockwork, releases a monthly double dose of adventure in the form of the luridly composed Ace Doubles. In the past, these bundled short novels had a reputation for being rather shallow and adventure-focused, while also being subject to the mercurial editorial whims required to ensure the stories fit in the prescribed lengths. Over the last few years, however, these volumes have become some of my favorite sources of entertainment, and they've launched the careers of many a new and promising author. This time around, we've got a veteran paired with a newcomer:

The Winds of Gath, by E.C. Tubb

Earl Dumarest awakens from cold sleep several days prior to his destination. He is one of the fortunate ones: 15% of the interstellar travelers who take Low Passage on a starship never revive. But Dumarest's luck ends there–instead of being dropped off at Broome, he must debark on the hell planet of Gath. On that tidally locked world, the Low Passage travelers are trapped without sufficient funds to leave, exploited by the Resident Factor of Gath despite the efforts of the local enclave of the Church of Universal Brotherhood.

What fuels the economy of this blighted planet? It is the winds that blow from the baked day side to the frozen night side. As they whistle along twilight mountain ranges, they set up resonances in the human mind, facilitating all manner of hallucinations: some pleasant, some insanity-inducing.

This natural phenomenon is the least of Dumarest's troubles as he has been plopped down into a budding conflict between the Matriarchy of Kund, the cruel Prince of Emmered, and other miscellaneous galactic forces. Can he thread the needle before the looming tempest envelops them all?

Truth be told, I was not expecting much from E.C. Tubb, a writer who almost invariably merits three stars. Even more so as the story reminded me strongly of Dune, with its sweeping setting, frequently shifting viewpoint, and its almost mythological character. The problem, of course, is that Dune was also a three-star tale for me.

So I was quite surprised that this tale grabbed me by the throat and did not let go until I finished, quite soon after I started. I think the main reason Tubb succeeds where Herbert does not is that Tubb can write! There are few wasted words, and his prose is sensual and visceral (perhaps he overuses "blood-colored" a touch; crimson would do occasionally). If Dumarest is a bit too superhuman, he is at least consistent in his abilities, and the limitations thereof. And such a vividly drawn world–it is clear that Dumarest will have more adventures in the future.

Four stars

Crisis on Cheiron

Carl Race is a Federation junior ecologist brought into investigate an agricultural blight on Cheiron. The garden-like world is home to a race of primitive but industrious centauroids working with the private enterprise Consolidated Enterprises (humorously abbreviated to "Con En"). There is concern that Con En caused the global catastrophe, which threatens the planet's legume and honey industries, potentially destroying the entire ecosystem. Should Con En lose its contract to trade with the Cheironi, its rival, Trans-Galactic, will swoop in.

Very quickly, Carl, with the assistance of a human teacher, Marcy, and a precocious Cheironi teen, Nubi, determine not only that the blight is artificially caused, but that there is a nefarious conspiracy involved. Much rushing around, near-miss assassinations, chase scenes, scientific explanations, and spelunking ensue. Don't worry–it's got a happy ending.

Author Juanita Coulson is probably better known to the world as half of the editing team of Yandro, a prestigious fanzine that has garnered nearly a dozen Hugo nominations and one win. This is her first foray into novel writing, and she's not nearly as polished as Tubb. The first 20 pages are quite rough sledding, and probably could have been pared down to perhaps a page. In fact, the whole first third is quite padded, and I have to wonder if this was an editorial decree to fill space (this particular Ace Double has very compressed pica, resulting in more words per page). But I stuck with it, and ultimately I found the book to be decently enjoyable. It feels pitched at a much younger audience, what was once called "juvenile" and is now coming to be termed as "young adult". You will probably guess the phenomenon that is the culprit before it is described, but that's fine. One should be able to solve a mystery from the clues provided.

I appreciate that Marcy is vital to the plot and Carl clearly finds her attractive, but no romance develops between the two leads. The aborigines are depicted as equals to humans (with good and bad examples of the species), which I would expect as Coulson has been a strident civil rights booster since her college days in the early 1950s.

So, three stars, and congratulations Juanita!

2 Comments Leave A Comment

Science Fiction/Fantasy

[September 8, 1967] New York, New York! (the 25th World Science Fiction convention)

September 8, 2022 Gideon Marcus 11 Comments

by Gideon Marcus

It's a wonderful town

That truly was the Week That Was. Once again, the annual convergence of the world's fen was tremendous fun, made all the sweeter for the fact that the Journey clan was there in force.

Me, Lorelei, Fiona Moore, Alison Scott, and Erica Frank

Janice L. Newman and Marie Vibbert

Held at the New York Statler Hilton, NyCon 3 may have been the biggest World Science Fiction convention yet, with more than 1000 people attending.

Our guest of honor this year was Lester del Rey, who recently came back to the fore of science fiction with a host of new stories.

The lines for registration were long, but that also gave us the chance to see our friends who attended…including the lovely Tom Purdom (whose I Want the Stars impressed us so a few years back).

From Fanac

A Gemini astronaut? No! A Hugonaut!

The Exhibit Hall was full of goodies, including back issues of anything I missed. Ever wonder how we maintain our encyclopedic knowledge of things SFnal? It's thanks to dealers like these who offer classic fiction as wares.

From Fanac

From Fanac

Beautiful works were on display at the art show (and you'll note that Star Trek already features prominently:

From Fanac

Manhattan women are all dressed in satin, so the fellows say

The Masquerade was a gas, as always. This one included a fashion show put on by Carol Pohl themed "Galaxy of Costumes", imagining clothes of the future. It ties in to a short piece in this month's Galaxy (edited by Fred Pohl).

From Calisphere and Fanac–Lin Carter and Carol Pohl

From Fanac–Betsy Wollheim

From Fanac—Trek costumes galore

The Bronx is up and the Battery's down

The centerpiece of the event was, of course, the fanquet. Some 850 folks gathered in the dining hall (a couple hundred relegated to the cheap seats in the balconies) to hear the results of the Hugo votes. Much to Isaac Asimov's chagrin, Harlan Ellison was invited to do the EmCee-ing for the occasion, something he did with great humor, but not a little longwindedness.

Of course, Dr. A was busy much of the convention trying (and failing) to play peacemaker between Harlan and Judith Merril. Apparently, Harlan had inserted a caricature of Judy in an episode of The Man from U.N.C.L.E. he wrote, and she is suing him for defamation of character or something like that. She actually served Harlan a summons at the con!

From Calisphere and Fanac

Other folks who spoke at the fanquet were Bob Tucker (creator of Hoy Ping Pong, after whom the new fan awards were almost named) and, of course, Lester. Poor Lester was relegated to the end of a very long program, and thus had to rush through his speech.

From Fanac

And now, we turn to what you're most eagerly awaiting–the results! Buckle in; there's a lot to report.

Best Novel

The Moon is a Harsh Mistress by Robert A. Heinlein [If Dec 1965,Jan,Feb,Mar,Apr 1966; Putnam, 1966]

Nominees

Babel-17 by Samuel R. Delany [Ace, 1966]
Too Many Magicians by Randall Garrett [Analog Aug,Sep,Oct,Nov 1966]
Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes [Harcourt, Brace & World, 1966]
The Witches of Karres by James H. Schmitz [Chilton, 1966]
Day of the Minotaur by Thomas Burnett Swann [Ace, 1966]

We were sad last year when it appeared Moon would miss its chance on a technicality. It's only a shame that this is the year it won given the strength of the Delany. Algernon was a Galactic Star winner and Magicians a nominee, so their appearance on the ballot is not a surprise.

On the other hand, The Witches of Karres is an expansion of a 1949 Astounding story, which, of the Journey staff, only David read (it did not impress him). Day of the Minotaur was a fine book, but it came out in '64-'65 as The Blue Monkeys, so it really didn't belong on this year's ballot.

Best Novelette

Winner: “The Last Castle” by Jack Vance [Galaxy Apr 1966]

Nominees

“Call Him Lord” by Gordon R. Dickson [Analog May 1966]
“Apology to Inky” by Robert M. Green, Jr. [F&SF Jan 1966]
“The Alchemist” by Charles L. Harness [Analog May 1966]
“An Ornament to His Profession” by Charles L. Harness [Analog Feb 1966]
“The Eskimo Invasion” by Hayden Howard [Galaxy Jun 1966]
“The Manor of Roses” by Thomas Burnett Swann [F&SF Nov 1966]
“For a Breath I Tarry” by Roger Zelazny [Fantastic Sep 1966]
“This Moment of the Storm” by Roger Zelazny [F&SF Jun 1966]

At last, the Hugos are taking a page from our book and subdividing the shorter length prose by length. We're also pleased to see how many nominees they accepted. According to Ted White, the NyCon Committee included all the stories above an obvious cut-off threshhold (they got nearly 300 nominating ballots this year, as opposed to the ridiculous ~60 of last year). And so, a broader cross-section of stories are being recognized.

On the other hand, one wonders if the voters simply threw darts at their magazine collection to determine the contestants. The UK magazines are not represented at all. That the Vance won is not upsetting. It's an excellent story, and I consider it better than the Swann (which is still quite good). Zelazny is here twice because he makes a specialty of writing stories that will be nominated for Hugos. Breath was better than Storm, but that they're both here isn't a problem. Call Him Lord was generally liked but not loved among the Journey staff. Ditto, Ornament (though I quite enjoyed that one).

But then you've got Hayden Howard's Esk novella (feh!), Apology to Inky (phew!), and the execrable The Alchemist (by Harness, who did Ornament). Thus, a full third of the nominees in this category are kaka. Not even tolerable, but just lousy. And even though we had a full 21 Star winner and nominees, only 4 of the Hugo nominees overlapped. This is what happens when the general audience doesn't read the British mags or the SF anthologies…

Short Fiction

Winner: “Neutron Star” by Larry Niven [If Oct 1966]

Nominees

“Man in His Time” by Brian W. Aldiss [Who Can Replace a Man?, 1966]
“Delusion for a Dragon Slayer" by Harlan Ellison [Knight Sep 1966]
“Rat Race” by Raymond F. Jones [Analog Apr 1966]
“The Secret Place” by Richard McKenna [Orbit #1, 1966]
“Mr. Jester” by Fred Saberhagen [If Jan 1966]
“Light of Other Days” by Bob Shaw [Analog Aug 1966]
“Comes Now the Power” by Roger Zelazny [Magazine of Horror #14 Winter 1966/1967]

I am going to go out on a limb and say none of these stories should have been on the ballot, each for different reasons. Granted, Light was pretty good (the sequel is better), and my fellow travelers liked it quite a lot. On the other hand, the Analog readership universally rated the story the worst of that issue. If they didn't vote for it, who did?

And I didn't read the Zelazny (none of us did) so I can't comment on that one.

But the Saberhagen is one of the weakest of the Berserker sentient space ship stories, and the Niven is definitely the least of his Bey Schaeffer era stories (why didn't readers choose the superior At the Core?). The Ellison is routine, as is the Jones. I suspect McKenna's story is only there as sort of an eulogiac honor since he died in '64 and this was one of his last pieces (unfinished, at that).

That leaves the Aldiss, which to its credit, did get nominated for the Galactic Star…in 1965. Just because it got collected into a book last year shouldn't make it eligible again.

Phooie.

Best Dramatic Presentation

Winner: Star Trek – “The Menagerie” (1966) [Desilu] Directed by Marc Daniels; Written by Gene Roddenberry

Nominees

Fantastic Voyage (1966) [20th Century Fox] Directed by Richard Fleischer; Screenplay by Harry Kleiner; Adaptation by David Duncan; Story by Jerome Bixby & Otto Klement

Star Trek – “The Naked Time” (1966) [Desilu] Directed by Marc Daniels; Written by John D. F. Black

Fahrenheit 451 (1966) [Anglo Enterprises/Vineyard] Directed by François Truffaut; Screenplay by Jean-Louis Richard and François Truffaut and Helen Scott; based on the novel by Ray Bradbury

Star Trek – “The Corbomite Maneuver” (1966) [Desilu] Directed by Joseph Sargent; Written by Jerry Sohl

The fanzines have been full of discussion regarding this year's Dramatic Presentation Hugo. Several years ago, the awards were changed so that only episodes could win rather than shows. This was to keep Twilight Zone from juggernauting over everything several years running.

The result was a three-way split that threatened to give the Hugo to something that wasn't Star Trek. While the fan community is somewhat split on the new science fiction show (for instance, Ted White and Alexei Panshin don't care for it), for the most part, fen dig it. Thus was created a campaign to vote for the one episode that had the creator's name attached to it. As it turns out, Menagerie was also a pretty good episode. It's the one I picked even without prompting from Juanita Coulson.

So hooray for our side. But once again, it's a pity that UK and German shows don't get on the ballot.

Best Professional Magazine

Winner: IF Science Fiction ed. Fred Pohl

Nominees

Analog Science Fiction and Fact ed. by John W. Campbell, Jr.
Galaxy ed. by Fred Pohl
New Worlds ed. by Michael Moorcock

Apparently American readers do read the UK mags. I wonder how New Worlds ended up here, but none of the stories from it (or its sister/Siamese Twin Science Fantasy) did. Folks continue to be more impressed with IF than we are, but perhaps they are rewarding the magazine for its standouts. It does have them.

If you're wondering why The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction isn't on here, it's because one of NyCon's co-chairs (Ted White) is an assistant editor there. Head cheese Ed Ferman decided it would be a class act to withdraw its eligibility. Ted says the magazine placed third in nominations.

Best Professional Artist

Winner: Jack Gaughan

Nominees

Frank Kelly Freas
Gray Morrow
John Schoenherr

This year, it was all SF mag artists without folks from the world of (solely) book covers. I'm very surprised to see Gaughan take the nod as he is my least favorite of these four. I also read in a 'zine a couple of years back that he's somewhat prickly in person [Ted White has since written to tell me he's actually quite nice). But he does have a distinctive style, and perhaps he had enough devotees to put him over the top. Also, Schoenherr hasn't had a dramatic sand worm to illustrate in many months…

Best Fanzine

From Fanac

Winner: Niekas ed. by Edmund R. Meskys and Felice Rolfe

Nominees

Australian Science Fiction Review ed. by John Bangsund
Lighthouse ed. by Terry Carr
Yandro ed. by Robert Coulson and Juanita Coulson
Habakkuk ed. by Bill Donaho
Trumpet ed. by Tom Reamy
Riverside Quarterly ed. by Leland Sapiro

A ha — this may explain the Gaughan win. Niekas is a nice big genzine, and Jack did the cover for the last '66 issue. The winner and four of the noms were also Galactic Star winner/nominees, so all is right with the universe. Trumpet didn't get on our slate, but it is an attractive 'zine with semi-pro print quality. Habakkuk is a worthy pick, too, something like Niekas and RQ. ASFR is devoted to reviews, and they do a lof of them, some large, some small.

It is worth noting just how fundamental these magazines are to the genre, and why it's a good thing fan concerns were not relegated to the ghetto called "Pong". Each of these 'zines, and the dozens more besides (not to mention Galactic Journey!) constitute the connective tissue for speculative fiction. With insightful analysis, thriving letter columns, poetry, stories, and news, the 'zines often provide more entertaining fare than the pro mags (recognizing, of course, that the 'zines would have no reason to exist were it not for professional publications).

So huzzah for 'zines, hooray for these 'zines. (And please vote Galactic Journey! for Best Fanzine next year–thanks to all those who nominated us this year!)

Best Fan Writer

While the Journey (once again) did not win the Best Fanzine Award, one of our illustrious writers did take home the first Best Fan Writer Award! I am, of course, referring to Alexei Panshin.

From Calisphere

Winner: Alexei Panshin

Nominees

Norm Clarke
Bill Donaho
Harry Warner, Jr.
Paul J. Willis

Apropos of my last comments, I am delighted to see the fan categories expand to three. Some may find this a bit self-indulgent, or that the proliferation of Hugo categories is a bit overwhelming. I feel that, as our field grows, the awards must grow, too, allowing more to be recognized for the good work they're doing.

Panshin appears in lots of places, from RQ to Yandro–and, of course, the Journey! Bill Donaho is best known for Habbakuk. I know Warner, the "sage of Hagerstown" (where my mother-in-law lives) from his letters and FAPA contributions. I know the Willis brothers live in Virginia, but I can't remember what they've worked on. Norm Clarke is another FAPAer, and I think I've caught his contributions to other 'zines.

I am surprised not to see Juanita Coulson or Steve Ashe or Ted White on this list, but Steve is new to helm of Science Fiction Times, Ted White is a filthy pro, and Juanita just became one, too, so maybe that's why. Also, Coulson took home half a Hugo last year for running Yandro.

Best Fan Artist

From Calisphere

From The Hugo Awards

Winner: Jack Gaughan

Nominees

George Barr
Jeff Jones
Steve Stiles
Arthur “ATom” Thomson

Alright, perhaps it wasn't Niekas that got Gaughan the pro Hugo nod because he also got the fannish art Hugo! I feel bad for not being immediately conversant with the other names, even as they faintly ring bells. I will pay closer attention to credits henceforth.

That said, I shall continue to plump for The Young Traveler, as I feel she is the most worthy fan artist!

In the light of day, our only day

After the big show, there was still fun to be had, particularly in the bars and room parties. For some, these are the only part of the convention that matter! On the other hand Janice and I are on the other side of 39 (not far, mind you… just a matter of days), so we generally went to sleep early. But not always!

From Fanac

Finally, it was back to Idlewild…er…Kennedy aiport for a 707 jaunt back home. Thank goodness for those new pneumatic headphones! They helped take my mind off the reek (or "pong", as the UK folks say) of the ever present cigarette smoke we were trapped inside with.

Hope you enjoyed this report! And stay tuned for next year's: San Francisco won the bid for the 1968 Worldcon, which means it'll be a local trip!

—

11 Comments Leave A Comment

Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[September 6, 1967] New Look, New . . . ? (October 1967 Amazing)

September 6, 2022 John Boston 5 Comments

by John Boston

The October Amazing is the second instance of what may prove to be the magazine’s New Look. Like the June issue, it is fronted by a pleasantly garish and nouveau-pulpish cover that, though uncredited, is known to the cognoscenti as another by Johnny Bruck, reprinted from a 1963 issue of the German Perry Rhodan magazine. Farewell Frank R. Paul? We’ll see. And maybe the contents are being updated as well. Of the five reprinted stories here, all are from the late 1940s or the ‘50s, at least in publication date.

by Johnny Bruck

That is not necessarily good news; Amazing published plenty of dreck through most of its history. Selection is all. But this issue’s selection is pretty decent. Also Harry Harrison’s book reviews are still here, with a fillip. In addition to Harrison’s own reviews of a new Edgar Rice Burroughs bio, the latest Analog anthology, and an Arthur Sellings novel, there is Brian Aldiss’s review of Harrison’s own The Technicolor Time Machine—back-slappingly complimentary, as one might expect from these close collaborators. Harrison and Aldiss edited this year’s Nebula Award Stories, due out just about now, and it appears that they will be joining the party with their own “year’s best” anthology next year.

Santaroga Barrier (Part 1 of 3), by Frank Herbert

by Gray Morrow

Frank Herbert’s new novel Santaroga Barrier begins its three-part serialization in this issue. As usual, I will withhold comment until it’s finished. A cursory rummage indicates that it seems to have something to do with people in California taking drugs. It will be interesting to see what Herbert can develop from such an unlikely premise.

The Children's Room, by Raymond F. Jones

Raymond F. Jones is the very model of a modern science fiction writer. He checks all the boxes. His career is so generic as to be paradigmatic, or maybe vice versa. He started out in Campbell’s Astounding, just in time to join new writers George O. Smith and Hal Clement and retread Murray Leinster in keeping that magazine going when such mainstays as Heinlein, Hubbard, Williamson, and de Camp were lost to military service or war work. After the war, when paper shortages loosened and the pulps returned from wartime quarterly schedules to monthly or bimonthly, Jones—along with Theodore Sturgeon, A.E. van Vogt, George O. Smith and other Astounding writers—began helping to fill them as well as continuing to appear in Astounding. When specialty publishers began to muster the large backlog of magazine SF for book publication, Jones was there with his Astounding novel Renaissance and a collection of his 1940s stories, The Toymaker. When Galaxy appeared in 1950 and instantly broadened the range of the field, Jones contributed the shocking A Stone and a Spear, which would likely have been unpublishable anywhere else. When “juvenile” (the term is becoming “young adult”) science fiction became a big item, Jones provided the well-remembered Son of the Stars and its sequel Planet of Light to the John C. Winston series. When SF started to be big box office, Jones’s novel This Island Earth was turned into a mediocre but high-profile movie. But somehow his recognition never kept pace with his resume, and now he seems to have given up and been largely forgotten, with only five new stories since 1960.

The Children’s Room, from the September 1947 Fantastic Adventures, is only the third story Jones published outside Astounding. It’s about super-people—hardly an unusual theme in that magazine—but it pursues some of the implications of that idea that Campbell may not have found too palatable. Bill Starbuck, chief engineer at an electronics company, picks up one of the books his IQ-240 son checked out from the university library’s children’s room, and finds himself captivated by a particularly subtle fairy tale. Next day the kid is sick and the book is due so he returns it, only to be told “We have no children’s department.” But on the way out, he sees the children’s room, returns the book, and the librarian there (having learned that Bill has read the book), gives him more to take home.

by Rod Ruth

So what gives? Time-traveling mutant super-people, of course—what else? In the future, humanity is up against an alien species that is out-evolving them! So they must scour the past for those people with beneficial mutations who never had a chance to amount to much, contact them and get them used to their exalted status (groom them, you might say), and then carry them off to their grand destiny in the future, never to see their time or their families again. Only the mutants can even read the books, or see the time travellers’ children’s rooms. Bill’s an exception—he can read the books and see the rooms, but has none of the other talents of the mutants, so he’s not invited to the future; and Mom’s a total loss.

So the kid gets on board with the plan, and the parents both come around, since there’s not much else they can do. But there’s a consolation prize for the parents (otherwise they would have a lot of ‘splainin’ to do to the Bureau of Child Welfare), and here Jones twists the knife in this formerly mild story. (Read it and see.) Or, about as likely, Jones is just naively working out the plot, and it is only we mutants reading it who can perceive its monstrousness. As, no doubt, Campbell did, and rejected the story, or so I surmise. Four stars, even if the fourth may have been accidental on Jones’s part.

Five Years in the Marmalade, by Geoff St. Reynard

by Bill Terry

Geoff St. Reynard, a pseudonym of Robert W. Krepps, contributes Five Years in the Marmalade (Fantastic Adventures, July 1949), an inane joke. Two guys walk into a bar—Muleath and Dangeur, who just returned from Alpha Centauri—and after they’ve had a drink, a Martian teleports in, just returned from a stay on Mercury. The boys call him over, and he tells them about his “single-trav,” which will take him anywhere he can think of, through (of course) the power of thought. So they recommend he head off next to Marmalade, which Muleath has made up and which exists only in his brain. Connect the dots. It's as skillfully executed as it is silly, and remarkably, Everett F. Bleiler and T.E. Dikty thought enough of it to put it in The Best Science Fiction Stories: 1950. Two stars, barely.

The Siren Sounds at Midnight, by Frank M. Robinson

Frank M. Robinson’s The Siren Sounds at Midnight (Fantastic, November-December 1953) is entirely contrived: “they” have set a midnight deadline to resolve “their” differences, and if things don’t work out, the bombs will be flying and it’s all over for everybody, or close to it. The story is redeemed by Robinson’s quiet good writing, following a long-married couple as they spend what may be their last hours together. Three stars.

Largo, by Theodore Sturgeon

“More lyrical science fiction from the typewriter of Theodore Sturgeon,” says the blurb for Largo (Fantastic Adventures, July 1947). All those terms are debatable except probably “typewriter.” Here’s the alleged science involved, from the opening of the story: “The chandeliers on the eighty-first floor of the Empire State Building swung wildly without any reason. A company of soldiers marched over a new, well-built bridge, and it collapsed. Enrico Caruso filled his lungs and sang, and the crystal glass before him shattered.”

The style is not so much lyrical as swaggering and demonstrative. Here’s the next stretch of text:

“And Vernon Drecksall composed his Largo.

“He composed it in hotel rooms and scored it on trains and ships, and it took more than twenty-two years. He started it in the days when smoke hung over the city, because factories used coal instead of broadcast power; when men spoke to men over wires and never saw each other’s faces; when the nations of earth were ruled by the greed of a man or the greed of men. During the Thirty Days War and the Great Change which followed it, he labored; and he finished it on the day of his death.”

by Henry Sharp

That is, “I’m gonna tell you a story and I’m just the guy who can do it.” And, of course, Sturgeon is that guy, on his better days. The striking thing about this story is the conspicuous confidence and cadence with which he lays out what is actually a pretty hackneyed plot—an extravagant revenge drama. Drecksall is an eccentric musical genius with an all-consuming work in progress. He works at menial jobs so support himself and his violin. Then he falls in love with the beautiful but vapid Gretel. A crassly entrepreneurial type, Wylie, recognizes his genius, exploits it and him, and also ends up marrying Gretel himself. Drecksall continues to perfect his Largo, though it’s sounding darker all the time. He builds his own auditorium to perform it in, invites Gretel and Wylie to hear it, and then . . . fade to black.

There’s more, but it’s all in the telling, which is worth reading as a conspicuous demonstration of craft if nothing else. This is Sturgeon’s fourth SF or fantasy story to be published by someone other than John Campbell, and it contrasts sharply to Blabbermouth, the second such, from Fantastic Adventures a few months earlier. That one was told in an off-the-rack style that fit Sturgeon like an embarrassing Hallowe’en costume. This is Sturgeon being himself, performing a circus act of the redemption of hokum by style. Splitting the difference, three stars.

Scar-Tissue, by Henry S. Whitehead

by Robert Fuqua

The antique of the bunch is Henry S. Whitehead’s Scar-Tissue, which came from the July 1946 Amazing, but was posthumously published; the author died in 1932. It begins unpromisingly, with the narrator asking his friend the ship’s doctor, “What is your opinion on the Atlantis question?” This becomes a frame story in which one Joe Smith, with Harvard and Oxford’s Balliol College on his resume, describes his past lives in prehistoric times, in Africa under the Portuguese (“Zim-baub-weh,” the place was called), and then Atlantis, where he was a gladiator, and he’s got scars to prove it. It’s a perfectly readable old-fashioned story. Three stars.

Summing Up

Not bad, a readable issue of this ill-conceived incarnation of Amazing, and better than not bad if the Herbert serial pans out. We'll see.

5 Comments Leave A Comment

Fashion, music, politics, sports

[September 4, 1967] We Love The Pirates…But Wilson Does Not! (The End of Pirate Radio)

September 4, 2022 Kris Vyas-Myall 3 Comments

by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

It finally happened; the Golden Age of Pirate Radio has come to an end around the British Isles. After three and a half years of pop music coming from the high seas, they have (almost) been completely silenced. British music fans are primarily reduced to listening to middle of the road requests on Housewives’ Choice or popular songs as interpreted by the BBC Scottish Radio Orchestra.

Photo of Sam Costa. A 57 year-old band leader from the 30s, one of the Light Programme’s top DJs. — Sam Costa. A 57 year-old band leader from the 30s, one of the Light Programme’s top DJs.

So how did we get from the country being surrounded by radio stations back to 3 BBCs stations and a signal from the continent?

Journey Out of Limbo

The legal loophole that Pirate Radio had operated in was not one that could continue on indefinitely. As I noted in my first article back in 1965, the UK was a key signatory of European Agreement for the Prevention of Broadcasts transmitted from Stations outside National Territories and so had to find a way to bring things to an end.

There had also been complaints from various different directions about these broadcasts:

* Foreign embassies were complaining that the signals were interrupting official broadcast channels (although others have claimed those signals were coming from behind the Iron Curtain)
* Shipping companies made the case that the pirate ships did not have set routes nor pre-agreed transmission frequency so were a hazard to transport
* Musicians unions argued that the amount of gramophone records played meant their live performances were being impacted
* Some record companies complained they were not receiving royalties from these stations (a fact that is disputed)

It also probably did not help when Reginald Calvert, owner of Radio City, was killed by Oliver Smedley, the former owner of rival station Radio Atlanta, in a row over transmitter parts in June of ’66.

So, a solution needed to be found. Obviously, the Pirates wanted to move towards legalization of their activities. I think you would have been hard pushed to find DJs that enjoyed being on rusty old ships or hanging out in abandoned sea forts, and the move towards an American style proliferation of commercial radio stations was probably their preferred option.

This was the proposal presented by Paul Bryan MP: to try to have around 200 local commercial stations throughout the UK, with major cities able to enjoy a choice of seven or eight different channels if there was enough demand.

Public show of support

A photo of a protest at Trafalgar Square during the Free Radio rally — Trafalgar Square during the Free Radio rally

The Pirate radio groups have been trying to drum up support for their cause in various ways. These have included measures from a single, We Love the Pirates, to a letter writing campaign to MPs, to the Free Radio rally in Trafalgar Square at the end of May.

Perhaps the most audacious has been the attempts to influence politics. During the April council elections in London, ads were run in support of the Conservative Party on Pirate Radio (due to the party’s support of legalization of commercial radio) and subsequently the Conservatives won 82 out of the 100 seats. Not only was this the first time they had held control of the London council since 1931, it is also the largest majority held by one party in the council’s almost 80 year history.

Political show of Opposition

Edward Short, Postmaster General

If the Pirates and the Free Radio Association thought this kind of activity might exert pressure on the Postmaster General, Edward Short, they were sorely mistaken. If anything, it seemed to harden attitudes, with questions raised of whether further legislation was necessary to prevent any other kind of political broadcasting. Legislation has also been included to make it an offence for writers and artists to provide any kind of material or for the preaching of sermons on unlicensed radio (nicknamed “plastic gospels”).

Even a compromise proposal from Left wing MP Hugh Jenkins to allow for a smaller number of local commercial stations under a public authority, acting as a parent station, was rejected. Instead, the Marine Offences Bill or Marine Broadcasting (Prevention) Act was passed, making it illegal for anyone in the UK to provide any kind of support to these pirate radio stations. The law came into force on 16th August.

By then almost all the pirate radio stations had been shut down. Some had already begun to close earlier in the year, with advertisers wanting to jump ship before legislation went into effect. Others were able to survive a little longer, due to space being bought by the tobacco industry (who used it as a way to get around restrictions on their industry) and right-wing groups such as the Monday club (for whom this has become a cause célèbre).

However, as the deadline got closer, stations began to realize the game was up. The government had already begun to bring prosecutions where they could claim broadcasts had happened in British waters and rather than face a clampdown, they are silent. Now ships are being sent the scrapyards and forts are being dismantled.

There was even an investigation of the Amateur Athletics Association for making use of free advertising space on Radio Caroline. Although no prosecution followed I think this shows how strongly the government has taken the job of stopping the Pirates.

However, there is one last station determined to find a way to fight on…

The Rights of Man

As I noted previously, there are two legal radio stations you can try to listen to, if your signal allows. The night broadcasts of Radio Luxembourg from the continent, and the low powered broadcasts of the UK’s only legal commercial station, Manx Radio.

Photo of an old fashioned room with stained glass windows and a large number of chairs. This is the chamber of the House of Keys, Manx’s Lower House — Chamber of the House of Keys, Manx’s Lower House

The Isle of Man’s relationship with the UK is a complex topic I could easily do an entire article on itself, but needless to say, the Tynwald (Manx Parliament) objected to the imposition of this legislation on an island with its own commercial radio station and without any consultation and so it was rejected.

This created a constitutional crisis because it meant that Pirate Radio could simply park up and get the operational support they needed from an island just Sixteen Miles off the British coastline and have the perfect venue to keep broadcasting. Which is exactly what Caroline North did when they dropped anchor there in early August.

At the same time, proposals were discussed to significantly increase the power of Manx Radio’s transmitter, to be able to compete with Radio Luxembourg and cover most of Britain and Ireland.

As you can imagine this caused a lot of anger in Westminster, and talks were held to try to resolve the crisis. Eventually the legislation was forced to come into effect at the start of this month. Plans for an extended transmitter are shelved and Caroline North is once again isolated (although they say they are stocked with supplies and will continue broadcasting).

On the other side of the country, Caroline South is officially operating out of The Netherlands, with several DJs moving there to avoid any risk of prosecution. How long this tactic will last is the question. The Dutch parliament is considering legislation similar to that of the UK, to come into force in 1968.

Common Ownership of the Means of Production

So, is that it? Pop music is banished from British airwaves? Not quite, whilst the government may be engaged in what Paul Channon MP called:

unreasonable, dictatorial, a killjoy, pettifogging socialist nonsense.

Mr. Short and Mr. Wilson are also not stupid. There is clearly a demand for pop music radio and if something isn’t done to address that fact, it won’t be long before other illicit means are deployed to provide it.

The government white paper came out in February outlining the new approach which, perhaps unsurprisingly for a socialist government, outlined the plans for a new national BBC pop radio station. This will broadcast at least six hours of records per day, along with live performances from the artists and special recordings. In addition, there are plans for 9 experimental local BBC stations, subsidized by local services.

This new radio station is to come in as Radio 1, as part of a reorganization of BBC Radio. The Light Programme (Light Music) is to become Radio 2, The Third Programme (classical) is to become Radio 3, and The Home Service (talk and scripted) is to become Radio 4. However, at least initially, no extra funds will be assigned to the radio service, so Radio 1 and Radio 2 will be sharing programming.

A photo of the 22 new Radio 1 DJs, sitting on the steps of broadcasting house — The new Radio 1 DJs

In a further sign of this as a form of nationalization, the new Radio 1 DJs are former Pirate Radio alumni, from big names like Tony Blackburn, to the hippy’s favourite John Peel. So, even though we may not be getting a continuation of multiple stations giving us 24 hour hit records, there will at least be some continuity.

Will the crown ever appeal as much as the Jolly Roger?

In 1718 over 200 pirates accepted the King’s Pardon and gave up their life of piracy. However, a number of them, most famously William “Blackbeard” Teach, soon grew bored and went back to a life on the high seas.

The question now remains, which way will things go today? Will the new “Radio 1” replace the Pirates in the hearts of the nation’s youth? Or will many of them follow Caroline’s lead and return to life under the Jolly Roger?

The new service debuts on 30th September. Until then, you will have to stay tuned to the Light Programme. As this issue is being stapled and sent out, you should be able to hear the sounds of Bernard Monshin and his Rio Tango Orchestra and extracts of The Val Doonican Show from the pier in Great Yarmouth …. groovy…

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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[September 2, 1967] Of Genies and Bottles (October 1967 IF)

September 2, 2022 David Levinson 5 Comments

by David Levinson

The radiant genie

They say that, once you let the genie out of the bottle, it can be very hard to get him back in. Twenty-two years ago, we unleashed the genie of atomic warfare, and it has loomed ominously over humanity ever since. Most of us remember the tension of the Cuban Missile Crisis just five years ago (though it seems both farther in the past and more recent) and probably still feel a little uneasy whenever a warning siren goes off. Current predictions estimate as many as 25-30 nuclear-armed countries within 20 years.

William C. Foster, the chief American representative to the Eighteen Nation Committee on Disarmament.

Is this an inevitability? Perhaps not. In 1960, the Ten Nation Committee on Disarmament, composed of five Western and five Eastern countries, met briefly in the spring and early summer, but adjourned indefinitely in the face of the U-2 incident and the collapse of the planned Paris summit. Toward the end of the following year, the U. N. created the Eighteen Nation Committee on Disarmament, composed of the original ten countries and another eight non-aligned nations, which has been meeting regularly in Geneva since March of 1962. On August 11th, William C. Foster, the chief American representative on the committee, announced that the United States and the Soviet Union have agreed in principle on the terms of a nuclear non-proliferation treaty. The two nations submitted identical drafts to the U. N. on the 24th. These will (hopefully) form the basis of a treaty to be voted on by the General Assembly, that will at least rein in the genie.

A bottle of jinn

There are a couple of metaphorical genies out of the bottle in this month’s IF, not to mention all the demons of Hell. Let’s pop the cork.

The art is intriguing, but none of this happens in Hal Clement’s new novel. Art by Castellon

Ocean on Top (Part 1 of 3), by Hal Clement

Our unnamed narrator (he hates his name and won’t say what it is) is an investigator for the Power Board looking into the disappearance of three other investigators near Easter Island. Stealthily sinking to the bottom of the sea, he discovers lights shining on the sea floor – a massive and criminal waste of power – and what seems to be an entire settlement of people. After being found out, he nearly escapes, but is ultimately captured and brought into the base. There he is astonished as he observes his captors removing their helmets, regardless of not only the tremendous pressure, but also the fact that they are still in a watery environment. To be continued.

These underwater criminals ought to be crushed before they have the chance to drown. Art by Castellon

Since this is Hal Clement, there’s undoubtedly some scientific principle at work, but this is otherwise an unusual story for him. This first installment is almost all action (albeit in slow motion, as befits the underwater setting) and has a much darker tone than he usually uses. At this point, we’re left mostly with questions.

Three stars.

Conqueror, by Larry Eisenberg

Joe is a member of the occupying forces on an alien planet. Command keeps careful control on soldiers’ access to booze and sex in order to maintain peaceful relations with the locals, and Joe is getting desperate for the latter. He’s not willing to use one of the androids the natives use, and local women willing to offer themselves to the occupiers are few and far between. So when he runs into a woman willing to go with him in exchange for food, he jumps at the chance.

Eisenberg’s output has been fairly hit or miss thus far. This tale doesn’t quite have the punch he’d like it to have, but it’s reasonably well done and has a sting in its tail.

A high three stars.

Fans Down Under, by Lin Carter

Science fiction fandom isn’t just an American phenomenon, so Our Man in Fandom has decided to take a world tour. First stop is Australia, which seems to be a real hotbed of SF activity, with Melbourne the apparent center. Despite its name, the Australian Science Fiction Review is not a serious, literary fanzine, but one that looks at SF as entertainment and offers lively criticism that pulls no punches. Meanwhile, the Melbourne Science Fiction Club has come up with the idea of holding regular screenings of SF movies and also maintains a lending library. I imagine both are the consequence of the difficulty of finding SF from the rest of the world.

Three stars.

Enemy of the Silkies, by A. E. van Vogt

Silkies were thought to be genetically engineered humans capable of living underwater and in space as easily as on land. In the last story, it was revealed that they are actually aliens, and at the end the Earth was orbiting a giant sun along with thousands of other worlds. When contact is made with the ancient enemies of the Silkies, it is once again up to Nat Cemp to solve the problems of his people and planet.The Nijjan and Silkies are ancient enemies. Art by Gaughan

All three Silkie stories follow the same pattern: Nat encounters an alien threat, learns a new mental ability from the alien, and uses it to defeat the enemy. If you liked the others, you’ll probably like this one.

Barely three stars.

The Food of Mars, by Max H. Flindt

There may be lichen on Mars. Some lichens are edible. Therefore, astronauts who go to Mars will be able to eat lichen.

Never have I seen so many errors of fact in a science article, not even in an Analog article on the Dean drive or using astrology to predict the weather. The author begins with the assertion that there are obviously artificial canals on Mars, thus the areas of color change sometimes observed there must be lichen. This was written before the Mariner photos came out, but even then the idea of Martian canals was a dying, minority opinion. He then discusses lichen in the diets of some human populations (true) and details his own experiences eating Spanish Moss (not a lichen) and Ear of the Wood and Ear of the Rock bought in Chinatown (both are mushrooms).

One star.

Winter of the Llangs, by C. C. MacApp

Chimmuh is an adolescent krote whose herd has been caught in their summering place by early snows. The elderly and weak will be left behind, likely to fall prey to the vicious llangs. As tradition demands, he will remain with his mother, who will deliver a new calf soon. His ingenuity finds the group a place to camp that is easily defended against the llangs, and with luck they can hold out until the return of a hunting party under the command of his father. But that party might pass them by unaware, so it is up to Chimmuh to venture out alone to try to make contact.

Chimmuh fights a pair of llangs. Art by Virgil Finlay

This is a fine little adventure story. Not exceptional, but a decent read. This is the kind of thing MacApp can do right.

Three stars.

Mu Panther, by Donald J. Walsh

A century or so after a couple of major nuclear power plant accidents resulted in mutant predators roaming the American west, Barry Everett and his partners are hired to track down a panther that’s raiding a large ranch in Wyoming. At over 35 feet from nose to tail, this wily creature will demand all their skill and perfect coordination.

This is a standard big game adventure tale – complete with rich idiot who refuses to listen to the experts – all with a science fiction spin. It’s fairly well-written for a freshman effort, even if it’s nothing special.

Three stars.

Faust Aleph-Null (Part 3 of 3), by James Blish

Arms-dealer Baines has hired the black sorcerer Theron Ware to grant a number of high-ranking demons free reign upon the Earth for 24 hours. It goes about as well as you might expect.

Baphomet drops by for some exposition. Art by Gray Morrow

James Blish appears to have been possessed by Philip José Farmer. There’s an interesting story here, but it comes to an unsatisfying and abrupt halt. The story’s end should be the end of the second act. Worse, there’s, at most, enough here for a novelette. Much of the previous installments had subplots and character introductions that serve no purpose to the story. This time, a full page is given to rattling off the names of several white monks, who are just inserts of various science fiction authors (my favorite: Fr. Anson, “a brusque engineer-type who specialized in unclouding the minds of politicians”–note that the "A" in Robert A. Heinlein stands for "Anson"). Six pages are dedicated to the summoning, five of them just for the names and descriptions of several of the demons. This isn’t a story, it’s Blish showing off his research. Much like I said last month, interesting but not necessary. And then everything hits a brick wall and just stops.

Barely three stars for this part and only two for the whole (which is less than the sum of its parts).

Summing up

Another march down the path of mediocrity. There’s some decent stuff here, and some that could be better. Particularly the Blish. It’s a decent setting without the gem it needs. I’ve been saying I’d settle for something really bad, and I certainly got it with the “fact” article. I should be careful what I wish for. As it is, I’d be happy if, for once, I can say more than Señor Wences’ Pedro. “’S all right.”

At least a new Berserker story sounds promising.

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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[August 31, 1967] I wouldn't send a knight out on a dog like this… (September 1967 Analog)

August 31, 2022 Gideon Marcus 5 Comments

by Gideon Marcus

Reversed metaphors

As we speak, I am packing for my trip to this year's Worldcon. I'm not sure what to expect other than I understand I'll be on a lot of panels. I'm mostly looking forward to seeing friends like Tom Purdom, Larry Niven, Ted White, and more.

My excitement is somewhat alloyed by the most recent magazine I've just finished. After reading this month's Analog, I find myself asking, "Is this the state of science fiction?"

by Kelly Freas

The King's Legions, by Christopher Anvil

This month in Science Fiction Times, Norm Spinrad talked about how every editor has their pet authors. Chris Anvil is the one who panders the most to Campbell's sensibilities, producing story after story of farcical garbage. Legions continues the tale in which three planetary exploiters, who dealt with a planet controlled by robotic overlords by developing a emotional control nerve agent.

by Kelly Freas

Last installment, said trio dealt with the collapse of society that ensued by assuming the roles of agents of competing feudal overlords, creating the illusion of a threat too big to contest by the planet's ragged revolutionaries.

This time around, a cadre of pirates, lured by the treasure said planet might offer (as well as the representatives' ships) have arrived bent on conquest.

I'll be honest. I got about four pages into this, flipped through to see that the damned thing is nearly 70 pages, and decided for once I would abrogate my responsibilities. To quote Buck Coulson in this month's Yandro, "I can't read all this crap, and this seemed to be a good one to miss."

Two stars.

The Pearly Gates of Hell, by Jack Wodhams

by Rudolph Palais

Lurid account of a man's endless attempts at suicide, thwarted by a society that really wants its members to stay alive–forever.

Of course, even if one is successful, that doesn't mean surcease…

Bit of a tired one-note, this one. Two stars.

The Usefulness of Nicotine, by Professor J. Harold Burn, FRS

This month's science article is a reprint, cacklingly presented by John W. Campbell, inveterate smoker. Oh sure, the article writer concedes, smoking might kill you, but look how happy and productive you'll be before cancer does you in! And here are all the gruesome details of the cats and rats vivisected to prove our point.

No thanks. One star.

Fiesta Brava, by Mack Reynolds

by Kelly Freas

The misadventures of Section G, whose task is to ensure none of the United Planets gets too backwards lest they be easy prey for the (yet unmet) alien menace, continue. This time, the agents sent by Director Sid Jakes are a botanist from a heavy gee planet, a cordon bleu chef with a talent for object throwing, a colorless matron with a photographic memory, and a diminutive 25 year-old who looks like she's eight.

This quartet is sent off to Falange, a colony of Spanish emigrants who have elected to preserve the police state of Francisco Franco long after his passing. High jinks ensue.

Fiesta reads like Heinlein writing a Retief story, with Reynolds' patented history lessons thrown in. To wit, this time we learn about bullfights (which Mack presumably saw when he was in Spain), the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand, and why slaves really are happier than we give them credit for. After all–it's not as if there were ever any slave revolts.

I guess Reynolds' travels never took him to Haiti.

Anyway, it's not very good, but if you go for this sort of thing, it is readable. I guess I'll give it a three. I'm trying to be nicer these days.

Important Difference, by E. G. Von Wald

by Kelly Freas

Humanity has been at peace for 500 years, but this tranquility is disturbed when (putatively) bug-eyed aliens appear and start shooting. One three-man scout becomes the first recon ship to successfully engage the enemy…and discover their true shape.

The "twist" is telegraphed as loudly as "What hath God wrought?" but I did appreciate how our race might evolve to the point that, even if our enemy looks like us, we could find a warlike nature so repellent as to mark a drastically different species.

Another low three star.

Lost Calling, by Verge Foray

by Leo Summers

Ingenuous young Dalton Mirni is picked up by a tramp freighter after being (so he says) in the captivity of aliens for 16 years of his life. The problem is there are no aliens, at least that humanity knows of. Not only that, but there is a big blank in his memory. He knows he was being trained for a singular profession, but he has no idea what it was.

Still, he looks on the bright side. After all, he is universally liked, by the crew that picks him up, the planet of Fingal (enemy of Earth), and the Earth people themselves. And Mirni has the uncanny ability to solve people's interpersonal problems.

Of course, there can't be any connection between this skill and his lost memories…

I appreciated the tone of this story, and it's also pretty well done. Definitely the best thing in the magazine, though I don't think I'd give it a fourth star.

Bad data

All in all, pretty grim. Even being generous with my ratings, Analog clocks in at a dismal 2.3 stars, beaten by every other magazine and short story collection this month. In order of decreasing badness, we have Fantasy and Science Fiction (2.8), IF (2.9), Orbit 2 (3), Fantastic (3), New Worlds (3.2), and The Devil His Due (3.2).

You could take all the four and five star stories and fill two digests (or thin books), which is pretty bad given we had seven to choose from. It was a bright spot for women, though, as they contributed nearly 16% of the new stories published.

So is all hope lost? Not necessarily. I've already started on next month's Galaxy, and Budrys' book column discusses how the New Wave of authors (Aldiss, Ballard, Zelazny, Delany, et. al.) are revolutionizing the field.

They just aren't doing it in the pages of Analog. So long as Campbell remains in the editorial chair, I suppose the revolution will remain untelevised.

We'll see how long that lasts. Even Alabama integrated…

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Fashion, music, politics, sports

[August 28, 1967] NYC–the Days are Vacuum-Packed

August 28, 2022 Vicki Lucas 1 Comment

[Please enjoy this next installment of the travels of the Journey's resident aesthete, Vicki Lucas. I can't think of a better way to tour our American land in 1967 than her articles…]

by Victoria Lucas

No Time!

I’m just starting to get used to the pace. New York is not San Francisco or Berkeley. I feel as if Alice’s rabbit is screaming “No time! No time.” We are on the go all the time, except for an hour or two hanging with friends.

Alice's rabbit

Like last weekend. It was too hot to stay in NYC, so we made our way to New Jersey, where our VW bus is garaged. We brought some things but had planned to do a little shopping on the way, partly because it would have been too much trouble to carry very much with us on public transportation. We can cook on our little camp stove, and we thought we would check out a couple places as we drove to Mel’s folks’s summer home in Maine, overnighting there before returning. It’s about a 6-hour drive from where our bus is parked.

We stopped briefly in New Hampshire. Wow! What we found there!

Shaker houses

Have you ever heard of the Shakers? A sort of cult of “Mother Ann,” a British woman who prophesied that her religious organization would die out, and it is clear that is happening. After nearly 200 years in the United States, and a peak of around 6,000 Shakers in 21 communities, the streets of these celibate communities are empty, and the few remaining members are sustaining themselves mainly by selling handmade furniture and some of their other first-ever products, such as seeds! I was fascinated to learn that their group was the first to package and sell seeds! They are also the authors of the Shaker spiritual “‘Tis the Gift to Be Simple,” appropriated in Aaron Copland’s “Simple Gifts,” and used in his “Appalachian Spring.” We stopped and toured one of the communities briefly, like a sort of living museum, finding out that they adopted orphans to carry on their traditions, but too many of these adopted sons and daughters decided not to stay.

A smoking mother-in-law

It was weird seeing Mel’s parents. I will never forget waking up the next morning in the sofabed on their lower level, noticing that Mel was up–and that his mother was sitting by herself on a hard armless chair, smoking and looking at me. All I could think of to say was, “Good morning.” (Does it have anything to do with the fact that I’m his 3rd wife? Or that I’m 19 years younger than he?)

Abbie Hoffman

Oh! I almost forgot to tell you. Among the meetings with places and dates emblazoned on mimeographed sheets handed out on the streets of the Lower East Side was one back in July during the Newark riots. We spent 2 days going to meetings to decide how to help the people trapped behind barricades without water and food. But the meetings were anarchic, and everyone had a different opinion and was willing to let the meetings drag on and on as no decisions were made. Finally, after enduring meetings starting Friday at 6 pm and continuing on Saturday, Abbie Hoffman stood up to his full height (quite intimidating, actually) and announced that he had a plan and he was going to carry it out and anyone who was willing to help was welcome. He was going to get a truck, stuff it with food and water and other necessities for those in need and drive it to Newark, going as far as he could into needy neighborhoods. He would only want a few people to distribute the goods, but he would need money. We gave him a few bucks and gratefully departed. Thank goodness someone is willing to step up! The two of us had had no idea how to help.

Aspen, no. 5+6

My man Mel works full time, and I am only part time at Phillis’s place but loving it! When she finally releases the new Aspen “magazine” (culture in a box in the form of a film on a reel and many other bits and pieces) issue (numbers 5 and 6 combined) it will be a square white box with only a little printing on it–in fact, just like the picture above. I had never worked for anyone before whose office was in her bedroom. It’s like this, as far as I can tell: Phyllis (Johnson Glick, but she seldom uses her married name) works as a journalist and editor for Nebraska State Journal, Women’s Wear Daily, Advertising Age, and American Home Magazine (and probably others), so when she is not working at a publisher's office, she works from home. So she gets up, makes her bed, and immediately starts using it as a desk as she finishes her coffee. She does have a little hard writing surface on a bedside table with a lamp, when she needs to write something. She calls me when she is going to work on her new creation, has set up her paper piles on the bed, and is nearly ready to start telling me what to do. I've never met her husband–he is probably gone long before I get there.

About the stapled, wholly paper "magazine" we are used to, Phyllis wrote this in 1966: "Last year, a group of us enjoying the sun, skiing and unique cultural climate of Aspen Colorado, asked ourselves, ‘Why?’" So she started creating something completely different, a magazine in a box with every piece (including ads) separate. Mostly I work the telephone or do the typing at a typing table with a (I think) dining-room chair–she dictates or tells me what needs to be said. If she has dictated it she signs it. There is a lot of telephoning and mailing to do to get the writers to write, the musicians to record, the recording studios to send recordings, and the film people to get their stuff to the copiers and then to us, etc. At the end of the day, Phyllis begins stacking the papers on her bed with sets perpendicular to one another, so she can tell where the different sets begin and should be in a different location in the morning. The stacks are put away off the bed. She tells me when she’s done, and I leave then. She pays me regularly (we both keep track), but I think that if I could afford it I would work for her for nothing–it's such fun to work for such an innovator!

John Cage

Since Mel is not particularly into music, I went by myself to a concert of John Cage’s music in a church. It was free. That is, it was free to me, because I stayed the whole 4 hours. The longer you stayed, you see, the less you paid. If you left immediately, it was pretty expensive. A few people did. There were a lot of silences.

Ed Sanders's Peace Eye Bookstore

And we went to the Peace Eye Bookstore on the lower East Side, Ed Sanders’s place. We met Sanders there but never saw anybody else famous whom we recognized, like Tuli Kupferberg or Peter Orlovsky. We did see an art piece from Allen Ginsberg: a large jar of cold cream, mostly empty. It swung in a small wooden frame from a rafter in the store, which was on the other side of Tompkins Square Park from our place on 3rd Street.

The Tompkins Square Park "Massacre"

We enjoyed the park and went there as often as we could manage. Once when we were passing through, we noticed a large number of hippies with their dogs and children sitting on grass labeled “Do not walk on the grass” (or thereabouts), and as we continued to walk we saw police engaging with some of the people on the grass. Whatever was happening appeared to be escalating. Voices were raised. We decided it would be a good time to go back to our apartment and have some dinner.

When we came back to the park, it was empty, there was debris where the hippies had been, and in a minute there was suddenly a young man handing out mimeographed news sheets, perhaps from the Peace Eye, which had a mimeograph. There had been a large number of arrests, and our presence was invited outside the police station at a given address. It was within walking distance, and we hied ourselves over there, joining a crowd from whom we heard the story: the police brought a van to the park and started arresting people and throwing them into the van. A pregnant woman protested and received the same treatment–everyone was afraid she might have miscarried. Some who didn’t cooperate received blows to the head and were bleeding. As part of the crowd we demanded the release of these peaceful people. We were there about an hour as it got darker and darker. Finally the battered and bloody “criminals” were released, and there was rejoicing. We went back home.

Simon and Garfunkel

As bad as NYC gets sometimes-–the trash, the crime (not hippie protest crime), the police, the subway, the homeless–-there are moments when I feel as if I’m in the right place. Like last evening when we had been visiting Central Park and were headed to our bus stop not far from the East River before going home. Someone had a radio on as the twilight descended. As we neared the 59th Street Bridge, guess what song was playing. Yes, it was. It was “The 59th Street Bridge Song.” And we were "kicking down the cobblestones.” And we were “feeling groovy.” Thank you, Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel!

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55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction