[September 30, 1964] San Francisco Arts Festival (Marantz Rocks the Plaza)

[Don't miss your chance to get your copy of Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), some of the best science fiction of the Silver Age. If you like the Journey, you'll love this book (and you'll be helping us out, too!)



by Victoria Lucas

Life in the Big City

You'll be glad to know I've evolved a routine (haha). Weekdays: walk to 633 Battery after taking J streetcar to Market and Sansome, bus up Sansome, reading book. (I'm on Moby Dick right now.) Back same but bus goes down Battery Street to Market. Catch streetcar back to the end of Church at 30th where it turns around in front of my apartment.

Saturdays: walk to parks, sometimes all the way to North Beach. If I have any money I might drive to and shop at the Safeway at Market and 7th Street. If it's nearly Friday payday sometimes all I have left is spaghetti and margarine. Saturday nights usually a date (if it's with dinner I don't usually eat during the day). I very occasionally drive somewhere like Berkeley or San Mateo or Santa Cruz if I have money for gas and/or a show or concert. I wonder when I'm going to get a raise to a whole dollar an hour.

Sunday: mornings I pick up the Sunday Chronicle, a heavy load. I read the funnies first, then the pink section. The pink section is the entertainment section, and I eagerly devour it, looking for stuff I want to do–especially free stuff.  This last weekend I found something both wonderful and free and on my usual weekend route, at the Civic Center.

A patron of the Arts

I learned they have these Arts Festivals in Civic Center Plaza in the fall.  In fact, sometimes musicians play their instruments in echoing spaces under the eaves or in the lobbies of some of the Civic Center buildings, so I usually stop here on my weekend itinerary through the City.

Civic Center Plaza
Civic Center Plaza, San Francisco

This time the Plaza was my destination, shown here with City Hall, the building with the dome bisecting the Plaza's green areas.  City Hall faces Van Ness Avenue (not visible at the bottom, a major north-south street), and the Plaza takes up two city blocks, just as City Hall does.  I learned that it was the San Francisco Tape Music Center that furnished the Marantz speakers that enlivened the gathering from both ends of the Plaza.  This year the Arts Festival was held on September 25 through 27.  You'll notice on the program below that a misprint had September 26 as Friday, when it should have been September 25.

Friday it began with folk dancing and a "Dancer's Workshop" but at 8 pm The San Francisco Tape Music Center revved up its speakers and regaled us with contemporary music.  Oh, what bliss!  Then from 9-10 were experimental films, starting with Bruce Baillie.  But since I was alone (and the Tenderloin is right there), I couldn't stay, so I walked to Market Street and paid my 15 cents for the J streetcar back to my apartment. As I walked away I heard the first notes of the music accompanying Baillie's "To Parsifal," and knew I wouldn't be sorry I left. I hate Wagner.


Steve Reich, with San Francisco Mime Troupe

Saturday I wasn't really interested in the folk dancing so after a leisurely breakfast and walk I arrived at the Plaza in time for the San Francisco Mime Troupe's production of Moliere's "Tartuffe," directed by R. G. Davis and with music by Steve Reich, who is sometimes featured at the Tape Music Center.  Somebody told me that the Saul Landau listed in the program as responsible for "Lyrics" makes films.  They cranked up those Marantzes again.  Dance and poetry and dance again, and a puppet show by the Lilliputian Theater.


Lilliputian Theater puppet

Finally, at 8 pm more Tape Music Center.  The Marantzes danced.  Again the first film was by Bruce Baillie, and that's great, but once again I had to leave early.  On Sunday more dance, more puppets, El Troupo de Mimo (as the Mime Troupe likes to call itself) performed "Tartuffe" again. I hear they performed one of my favorite plays last year; I wish I could have seen it: Jarry's Ubu Roi.

"/
San Francisco Mime Troupe in Ubu Roi

Come on Down

After more dance the Tape Music Center was back on Sunday at 6 and only till 7, since Monday was a workday. It was still summer here, and the evenings were cool and breezes carried the smell of food cooking and being served from the carts and tents on the Plaza. People were everywhere. It was a delightful night, and I really, really hope they do this again next year–especially the Mime Troupe and the Tape Music Center. However, the Mime Troupe performs in the parks, and I'll be seeing them, and the Tape Music Center is on Divisadero right on a bus route. I'll be hearing them again soon. You should come and see them along with San Francisco's other sights. It's a happening City, and I love it!


[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




[September 28, 1964] Revelation (Science Fantasy, September-October 1964)

[Don't miss your chance to get your copy of Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), some of the best science fiction of the Silver Age. If you like the Journey, you'll love this book (and you'll be helping us out, too!)



by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

Well, this is a pleasant, if unexpected, surprise. I have been getting used to writing about New Worlds magazine every other month.

However, whilst looking at the racks in my local newsagent the other day, to my surprise there was a copy of Science Fantasy, so I bought it. It is the first I’ve seen in a long while, and certainly the first under its new editorialship by Kyril Bonfiglioli, so I am very interested to see what it is like.


Note: Picture is not actually of the author…

I am hoping that this increased visibility is a good sign – an improvement in noticeability can only mean more potential sales. Let’s hope New Worlds can follow. I mentioned in my last article that there was a rumour about the circulation of New Worlds. It seems that readership is up, and that the print run is now nearly double what it was under Carnell. That is wonderful news, although I am aware that New Worlds not only needs to get those numbers of people reading, but also keep them.

Whilst not quite as much as its older companion, it looks like Science Fantasy has also increased its sales.

More on that in a minute.

What else has happened since we last met? Well, the rumoured General Election was announced on 14th September, to no one’s real surprise. The currently governing Conservative Party, having being in power for 13 years or so, seem fairly confident about their chances of returning. Personally, though, I don’t know. The youngsters that I know of all seem to be enthused about the Labour Party under Harold Wilson, claiming that now is the time for change. With what’s been happening socially, and the empowerment of young men and women, Wilson might just stand a chance.

Sierra Exif JPEG

In terms of music, there’s been some change. My favourite track of last month, You Really Got Me by The Kinks actually got to Number One for two weeks, which shows that it isn’t just me who likes it. Currently the saccharine pop of Herman’s Hermits is at the top of charts with I’m Into Something Good. Much more radio-friendly perhaps, but it shows how varied our music is at the moment.

Poster from my local Odeon cinema.

But my biggest news is that I’ve managed to see the latest James Bond, the one the Traveller mentioned last week in his ongoing news ticker. Named Goldfinger, and based on Ian Fleming’s book, of course, I think it’s the best Bond film so far. There’s clearly been a lot of money spent on gadgets and special effects, but most importantly Sean Connery seems to be settling in nicely to the lead role. Gert Frobe makes an admirable bad-guy, although his henchman known as 'Odd Job' is more memorable, for reasons I won't spoil here. Good to see ex-Avenger Honor Blackman in a film (rather than television) as well. There has to be more of these, judging by what I saw. Great stuff.

The Issue At Hand

Well, this is a classier cover than the one on New Worlds, although there’s not much of the ‘Fantasy’ about it. Looks like an ancient alfresco classical painting, which I am sure is deliberate. The two red dots for nipples made me laugh, though.

The editorial is an interesting one. This Science Fantasy editorial from Kyril Bonfiglioni comes across as more straightforward than the Moorcock New Worlds editorials, and combines humour with a tad bit of grumpiness. It’s also rather defensive in its choices, here defending Rudyard Kipling as a Science Fiction writer to beat H G Wells had he continued to write more. However, the editor’s put-down of a disgruntled reader in New York is quite amusing. All in all it’s a great introduction to the issue.

To the stories themselves.

The Blue Monkeys, by Thomas Burnett Swann

So we begin with something that I understand is not typical of Science Fantasy, in that it is the first of a three-parter. This is something common in New Worlds, but judging by the comments by the editor, less so here.

The Blue Monkeys is a story that dips into the well of ideas that is  ancient Grecian myths. In this place giants exist, as do many of the mythological creatures we accept as stories today. It’s a nice set up.

It’s really an alternate story of the Minotaur, through the eyes of Thea and Icarus, two young elf-like children of the Cretan prince Aeacus. They encounter the boorish Ajax, who tries to make moves on the young sixteen year old Thea. Unsurprisingly, Thea and Icarus try to escape and in doing so are rescued by the Minotaur. The twist in the story is that the Minotaur’s reputation is more fearsome than the reality.

If you like tales where the emphasis is on telling a story, I think you’ll like this one. Think of it as a more adult version of the myths and legends of Ancient Greece. It reads very smoothly, and I was engrossed until the point where it ended. I look forward to the next part in the next issue. A great start to the story and the issue. 4 out of 5.

Period of Gestation, by Thom Keyes

And then we have a change of gear,  to an odd science-fiction story that wouldn’t be out of place in New Worlds. Imagine the consequences of unending travel with a group of other men for sixteen years. This tale shows us the result. Frankly it's not pretty, although the editor prefers to refer to it in his Editorial as 'controversial'.  Mad delusions, visions of deity and the resurrection of Jesus Christ are mixed with orgies of chocolate and male pregnancy. Period of Gestation tries to combine humour and satire but becomes too absurd for my tastes. It’s certainly memorable but didn’t really work for me. 3 out of 5.

Anita, by Keith Roberts

Anita is the first of two stories by this author in this issue.

I’m usually suspicious when we get two stories by the same author in one issue. New Worlds does this a lot – it published two Brian Aldiss stories in the June 1964 issue, for example. But I can’t help feeling that surely if the stories are that good it makes sense to spread them out over a number of issues?

Having said that, this first one is pretty good. It is the story of a young girl’s moral awakening as she experiences a wider world. Anita is a young and rather lonely witch whose experience of normal mortals is limited. When her Granny insists that Anita go out of the house to see more of the world and practice her magic, Anita encounters cars, tarmacked roads and makes new friends. Despite warnings from her Granny, Anita becomes friends with a girl named Ruth and her Romany lover Jem. It does not end well, for when Jem leaves Ruth she commits suicide. In a rather Fritz Leiber-style twist, Anita finds herself in the care of an animated zombie.

Anita is a nicely developed character – an innocent who wants to do well, yet who is also lonely and wants to make friends, even if they are human. On the downside, Granny’s strangled language, meant to represent a local dialect, is a bit irritating, but overall Anita’s a nice enough story that brings to light the complications that could be created if the world of magic coexisted with the more mundane Human world. 4 out of 5.

Dummy Run, by Colin Hume

A writer new to me. Another attempt to write a humorous science fiction tale, one where Percy Winkley, a mild-mannered ventriloquist, single-handedly halts a Martian invasion with the use of his ventriloquist’s dummy. Like most of these stories, I find, it’s a minor story that doesn’t always work for me, one that is supposed to amuse but really made me groan. Although it is better than some of the similar stories I’ve read in New Worlds, this is not worth comparing with similar works by more skilled humourists such as Brian Aldiss, Robert Sheckley or John Sladek. 3 out of 5.

Easy as A.B.C., by Rudyard Kipling

I must admit that I’m usually wary of reprints, even when they are good. On a practical level they tend to be for reasons of financial expediency rather than literary merit in my experience, or in a literary sense are old-fashioned and dated.

However, this story, first published in 1912, is worthy of a read as an early proto-sf story from an author not usually remembered for his genre work. The Aerial Board of Control (A.B.C.) is “a semi-elected, semi-nominated body of a few-score persons” who control “The Planet”.

It’s the story of how a global government deals with a global crisis – in this case, when North Illinois takes itself out of the system, causing communication breakdowns and other sorts of chaos. A crack team of A.B.C. operatives are sent to find out why and, if necessary, bring North Illinois back in line.

The issue seems to be that a group of dissidents wish to have more democracy and hold public meetings, which are in defiance of the relatively benign rules of The A.B.C. because invasion of privacy – which these demands impose upon – is seen as a capital offense.

The team realise that action has to be taken quickly in order to quell a rapidly escalating problem. Their solution is to use a new weapon that makes those who hear it temporarily blind and deaf on the populace of Chicago. The dissidents are then rounded up and taken to the World Capital of London, where they are put on display for the entertainment of the masses.

Kyril says in his Editorial that “Kipling was far ahead of his time as a science fiction writer”, and As Easy As A.B.C. shows some interesting if controversial ideas – even today. The story raises the issue of what right an authoritative power has in taking actions to defend the views of the masses, even when such views are different to our own.
It’s not too difficult to see this as a parallel version of the British Empire throwing its considerable weight around. Readers may consider this to be either an acceptable consequence of being ruled by a benign World Council or regard it with horror as the inevitable consequence of accruing and maintaining control. The ending reminded me of the show-trials at the end of the Second World War, or even the more recent McCarthy trials in the USA, and not in a good way.

Some readers may dislike the use of terms such as “Nigger” and characters being referred to derogatorily as “Wandering Jews”, which are a product of their time but sit uneasily with a more contemporary readership. But there are some interesting ideas here that make you think, even when it is not a total success. For all of its issues I can see why Kyril thinks it worth bringing to our attention again.

3 out of 5.

Symbiote, by George Rigg

Another writer new to me. In the blurb George is described as “an Oxford don whose specialism is medieval literature.” However, those expecting an Arthurian romance will be surprised, for instead this is a very short story of the awakening of a form whose purpose for existence appears only to be around ‘the Creature’ – a human alcoholic with delusions. It is very short, verbose and minor in importance, but perhaps a welcome relief to counter the denser tales before it.

3 out of 5.

Escapism, by Keith Roberts

The second of the two stories by this author in this issue. Escapism is a story of what happens when an out-of-the-way, dilapidated little picture house is hired to check the rushes of a movie being made about the ancient battle of Sedgemoor. Nothing too unusual there – except that the movie is so realistic that the audience feels like it is there, with surround sound.

Perhaps my favourite story of the issue. There’s humour which works and characters I really liked.
5 out of 5.

Love Feast, by Johnny Byrne

And yet another writer new to me, but one who I gather is quite well known and popular in British genre circles. Love Feast is a weird little short-short about a creature offering itself up to be eaten by another. Odd – which may be the point, but not a favourite for me. 2 out of 5.

Notice: no book review section or letters page (which is why the Editor used a letter in his editorial this month, I guess): that’s your lot. Unlike New Worlds, in Science Fantasy it’s all about the fiction within, which again makes a refreshing change.

Summing up

I’m pleased I got a hold of this issue. Like Moorcock in New Worlds, Bonfiglioli is clearly determined to make his mark on the magazine. The two magazines are definitely different, but not entirely to the exclusion of the other.

I suppose that if New Worlds is the British equivalent of Analog, then Science Fantasy must be the British equivalent of The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction – something that should amuse fellow Traveller Gideon, as I gather from his recent reports that he’s not too keen on F&SF at the moment! But the comparison seems apt to me.

Out of the two, I think that Science Fantasy has broader appeal but is more conservative than New Worlds. Yes, it is trying to break new ground – there’s a very interesting comment made by Kyril about Conan-esque sword and sorcery in this issue, for example – but it’s not as ‘out there’ as New Worlds.

This may not necessarily be a bad thing. I wasn’t expecting to say this, but out of the two most recent issues of the magazines the revelation for me is that I think Science Fantasy is a stronger, or at least more enjoyable, issue. Or at least it may appeal to a wider readership. If sales have increased, I think I can see why.

In short, I am impressed, and I hope that my ability to get issues of this magazine will continue. There are three stories here I loved (the two Keith Roberts’ and Thomas Burnett Swann’s reimaging of Greek myths) and the rest are not a disaster. I’ll have to look at a subscription, like I do for New Worlds, perhaps. The next issue will be out at the end of November.

However, I should be back to a new issue of New Worlds next month. Until next time…


[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




[September 26, 1964] A Mystery Mastermind Double-Feature: The Ringer and The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse

[Don't miss your chance to get your copy of Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), some of the best science fiction of the Silver Age. If you like the Journey, you'll love this book (and you'll be helping us out, too!)



by Cora Buhlert

After a wet and cool summer, the rain continued right into September. We can only imagine what carpenter Armando Rodrigues de Sá thought when he arrived in rainy Cologne from sunny Portugal and became the one millionth so-called "guest worker", immigrant workers from Southern Europe contracted to work in West German factories to alleviate the labour shortage. In Cologne, Mr. Rodrigues de Sá was welcomed by journalists, cameras and a representative of the employers' association and presented with a flower bouquet and a motorbike.

One millionth guest worker
Portuguese immigrant worker Armando Rodrigues de Sá is welcomed to West Germany with a flower bouquet and a brand-new motorbike

Another visitor who received a warm welcome in Germany was American Civil Rights icon Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., when he visited Berlin earlier this month. The official reason for the visit was a memorial service for John F. Kennedy, but Dr. King also used the opportunity to visit the Berlin Wall, where only hours before a young man had been shot during an attempt to flee East Berlin and only survived due to the heroic actions of an US Army sergeant who pulled him to safety, a sad reminder that about fifty people have already been killed trying to surmount the Berlin Wall.

Martin Luther King at the Berlin Wall
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. at the Berlin Wall

The East German government is hostile to religion, but supportive of the Civil Rights movement in the US. And so Dr. King was allowed to visit East Berlin, where he held a sermon in the packed Marienkirche and spontaneously intoned "Let My People Go". I'm not sure if the East German authorities got the message, but the people of East Berlin certainly did.

Martin Luther King in Berlin
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in Berlin with West Berlin's mayor Willy Brandt and Otto Dibelius, Lutheran bishop of Berlin-Brandenburg.

Rainy days are perfect for going to the movies and luckily, West German cinemas have plenty of thrills to offer. A few months ago, I introduced you to the two series of science fictional thrillers, which are currently dominating West German cinemas, namely the Edgar Wallace and the Dr. Mabuse series. Fans of both have reason to rejoice, because this fall has brought us both a new Edgar Wallace and a new Dr. Mabuse film.

A New High for Edgar Wallace

Poster The RingerDer Hexer (The Ringer) is the twentieth Edgar Wallace adaptation produced by Rialto Film and one of the best, if not the best movie in the series so far. The Ringer is a pure delight and a distillation of everything that has made the Edgar Wallace series so successful. The balance of humour and thrills is just right and The Ringer will have you both rolling on the floor with laughter and on the edge of your seat with suspense. There are nefarious crimes, a mysterious figure – for once not the villain – whose true identity is not revealed until the final reel and a twisting and turning plot that still has a twist or two in store, even after the Ringer has been unmasked.

Der Hexer novel coverThe Ringer is based on Edgar Wallace's 1925 novel The Gaunt Stranger and its 1926 stage version The Ringer, though the literal translation of the German title would be "The Witcher". It's certainly apt, for the titular character is not just a master of disguise, but also has nigh sorcerous abilities to evade Scotland Yard's finest.

Apprehending an antagonist is cunning as the Ringer certainly requires the best Scotland Yard has to offer and so The Ringer is the first film to unite the three actors who usually play inspectors in the Edgar Wallace movies, namely the young and dashing Joachim Fuchsberger and Heinz Drache and the older and decidedly not dashing Siegfried Lowitz. They are aided – or hindered, depending on your point of view – by Wallace veteran Siegfried Schürenberg in his customary role as Sir John Walker, head of Scotland Yard.

Like most Edgar Wallace movies, The Ringer begins with a murder before the title sequence. A young secretary is spying on her boss, dodgy lawyer Maurice Messer (Jochen Brockmann), when she is strangled by an unseen assailant. The movie then cuts to her dead eyes staring at us from the glass dome of a mini-submarine that slowly dives into an underground pool. Cue the titles and Peter Thomas' delightfully squeaky theme music.

That Ain't Witchcraft

The Ringer program bookUnbeknownst to the killers, the murdered woman was Gwenda Milton, the younger sister of Arthur Milton, the vigilante known only as the Ringer for his uncanny ability to disguise himself as anybody he pleases. Years ago, Arthur Milton had given up his career of vigilantism and retired to Australia, far beyond the reach of the British law. But now he is back to take revenge on the murderers of his sister. Of course, both the villains and Scotland Yard are only too eager to capture the Ringer. There is only one problem. No one knows what he looks like.

What follows is a merry chase, as the Ringer pits the villains, four pillars of society who operate a human trafficking ring out of a church-run home for wayward girls, against each other, while three police inspectors and Sir John fall over each other's feet to arrest him. Also along for the ride are Archibald Finch (Edgar Wallace stalwart Eddi Arent), a reformed pickpocket (or is he?) turned butler, and Cora Ann Milton (Margot Trooger), the Ringer's glamorous and loyal wife. The result is so much fun that you barely notice that the plot doesn't make a whole lot of sense (but then, Edgar Wallace movies often don't) and that occasionally the Ringer has to move things forward by handing either Scotland Yard or the villains a clue – literally on a silver platter in one case.

Siegfried Lowitz and Margot Trooger in The Ringer
Inspector Warren (Siegfried Lowitz) confronts Cora Ann Milton (Margot Trooger) in "The Ringer"

Women in Edgar Wallace movies usually come in one of two flavours, the wide-eyed ingenue who will go on to marry the dashing inspector after he has saved her from certain death and the villainous femme fatale who will usually end up dead, after vamping her way through the movie. The Ringer breaks this pattern, for while Margot Trooger as Cora Ann takes the part of the femme fatale, she is neither a villainess nor does she die. Cora Ann is not a henchwoman, but a true partner to her husband and also very much in love with him. She is my favourite female character in the Edgar Wallace series so far. The ending leaves open the possibility of a sequel and I for one would love to see the continuing crime fighting adventures of Arthur and Cora Ann Milton.

Sophie Hardy, Joachim Fuchsberger and Siefried Lowitz in The Ringer
Inspector Higgins (Joachim Fuchsberger) and Inspector Warren (Siegfried Lowitz) have just survived a murder attempt via venomous snake, while Elise (Sophie Hardy) screams.

The heroine is played by French actress Sophie Hardy as Elise Fenton, the girlfriend of Inspector Higgins (Joachim Fuchsberger). Elise is no wide-eyed ingenue either – indeed it is quite openly hinted that she and Higgins are living together, even though they are not (yet) married. Elise probably seemed modern and liberated on paper. Alas, she comes across as annoying in the movie itself, a nagging, jealous and catty woman whose only goal in life seems to be to entrap Higgins (or "Higgy", as she calls him) into marriage. Maybe Karin Dor could have given the character more depth – alas, she was too busy playing Winnetou's true love Ribanna in Horst Wendlandt's other hugely successful film series. As it is, I found myself hoping that Higgins would ditch the annoying Elise for Sir John's attractive secretary Jean (Finnish actress Ann Savo).

Ann Savo and Joachim Fuchsberger in The Ringer
Inspector Higgins (Joachim Fuchsberger) flirts with Jean (Ann Savo) in "The Ringer"

The Ringer Unmasked

While the romance subplot isn't quite successful, the movie excels in keeping the audience guessing the identity of the Ringer. The script steers suspicion towards two characters, the mysterious Australian James Westby (Heinz Drache) and pickpocket turned butler Archibald Finch (Eddi Arent), who always seems to know much more than he should. To anybody who's been watching the Edgar Wallace movies for a while, both suspects seem equally unlikely, for Heinz Drache usually plays heroic inspectors, while Eddi Arent inevitably plays bumbling comic relief characters. However, the Wallace movies are not afraid to cast against type on occasion: the heroic investigator is revealed to be the villain in The Red Circle (1959) and in Feburary's Room 13, the wide-eyed ingenue turned out to be a cold-blooded murderess.

Joachim Fuchsberger, Siegfried Schürenberg and Eddi Arent in The Ringer
Inspector Higgins (Joachim Fuchsberger) and Sir John (Siegfried Schürenberg) confront the mysterious Archibald Finch (Eddi Arent) in "The Ringer"

In the end, the Ringer is revealed to be a character no one ever suspected, even though the rest of the cast and the audience have no reason to believe or trust him. It’s a testament to the cleverness of the story that we don’t even notice this until the final unmasking. And indeed, producer Horst Wendlandt and director Alfred Vohrer went to great lengths to keep the true identity of the Ringer secret even from the cast and crew. The final few pages of the script were locked away in Wendlandt's safe to prevent leaks. When the Ringer is finally unmasked, the face behind the latex mask is that of Luxembourgian actor René Deltgen. Portly, balding and fifty-four years old, Deltgen is no one's idea of a criminal mastermind and dashing vigilante, but then the entire movie defies expectations and shows that the Edgar Wallace series still hasn't gone stale after twenty instalments.

Cast of The Ringer
The cast of "The Ringer" implores audiences not to spoil the ending.

Dr. Mabuse Returns – Again

Poster Death ray of Dr. MabuseUnfortunately, the same cannot be said for the latest movie in the other great West German thriller series. For while the Dr. Mabuse series has been very good at reinventing itself in the five movies made post WWII (plus two made during the Weimar Republic) so far, the latest instalment Die Todesstrahlen des Dr. Mabuse (The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse) shows definite signs of the series going stale.

When we last saw Mabuse in 1963's Scotland Yard vs. Dr. Mabuse, he had not only failed to establish a reign of crime and chaos in the UK, but his malevolent spirit had also vacated the body of psychiatrist Professor Pohland (Walter Rilla), leaving the poor man uttering "It wasn't me, it was Mabuse. He used my brain" over and over again. Pohland was locked up in an insane asylum, because that worked so wonderfully when Mabuse was apprehended in The Testament of Dr. Mabuse – twice. The opening of The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse finds Pohland still in the asylum and still muttering the same lines over and over again. When the British send intelligence officer Major Bob Anders (Peter van Eyck) to interrogate Pohland, Pohland utters the word "death ray" and promptly vanishes. This is the third time German-American actor Peter van Eyck takes the lead in a Mabuse movie after The 1000 Eyes of Dr. Mabuse and Scotland Yard vs. Dr. Mabuse. All three characters have different names, though Major Bill Tern from Scotland Yard and Major Bob Anders from Death Ray are so similar they might as well be the same character.

Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse titles

A Game of Spies

The Death ray of Dr. Mabuse program bookNot long after Pohland's disappearance, Anders is given a new assignment – to investigate spy activities in Malta, where a scientist named Professor Larsen is working on an invention that will change the world. And that invention just happens to be a death ray. Anders no more thinks that this is a coincidence than the audience does. So he hastens to Malta, taking along Judy (former Miss Greece Rika Dialina), one of his many girlfriends, to pose as a newlywed couple on their honeymoon.

Since everybody in Malta knows who Anders is anyway, the ruse is completely unnecessary. And indeed, I wish that the movie had omitted Judy, who adds nothing to the plot except prancing about in bikinis and scanty nightwear and moaning that Anders isn't paying enough attention to her. Because if Elise from The Ringer was annoying, Judy is certainly giving her a run for her money. As with Elise, Judy's sole aim in life seems to be to entrap Anders into marriage. I really hope that the appearance of two similarly grating female characters in two high profile West German movies in the space of less than a month is just a coincidence and not a new trend. After all, it's 1964 and young women these days are focussed on more than just snagging a husband.

Peter van Eyck and Rika Dialina in The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse
Major Bob Anders (Peter Van Eyck) spies on Mabuse, while Judy (Rika Dialina) has other ideas.

In Malta, we are quickly introduced to the rest of the players, Professor Larsen (O.E. Hasse), his assistant Dr. Krishna (Valéry Inkijinoff), Larsen's niece Gilda (Yvonne Furneaux), Gilda's fiancé Mario Monta (Gustava Rojo), whose brother Jason (Massimo Pietrobon) owns the local fishing fleet and may be working for Mabuse as well as Fausto Botani (Claudio Gora), an elderly man who always tends to the grave of his late wife in a cemetery that is a hotbed of suspicious activities. We also get a techno-babble laden introduction to Professor Larsen's death ray projector, which can burn every city on Earth to a crisp.

Valery Injikoff and O.E. Hasse in The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse
Professor Larsen (O.E. Hasse) and Dr. Krishna (Valery Injikoff) in the death ray lab.

The bulk of the movie is a succession of action sequences, as Mabuse and his henchmen try to infiltrate Professor Larsen's laboratory, while Anders tries to stop them. And indeed the action sequences, whether it's a fist fight in a church tower, a car chase or an underwater fight involving several scuba divers, are exciting and well choreographed. Director Hugo Fregonese is best known for helming B-westerns in Hollywood and his experience certainly shows.

Scuba Divers in The Daeth Ray of Dr. Mabuse
Mabuse's scuba diving henchmen report for duty

Regarding the identity of Mabuse, the script directs suspicion at Larsen's assistant Dr. Krishna, playing on unpleasant yellow peril stereotypes. In the end, however, the seemingly harmless Fausto Botani is unmasked as Mabuse's latest host body, just in time for Mabuse's spirit to leave and seek his fortune elsewhere. In one of the most chilling sequences of the film, Botani is left to mutter "It wasn't me, it was Mabuse. He used my brain" over and over again, while his faithful dog Pluto – implied to be the same German shepherd that already accompanied Wolfgang Preiss as Mabuse in The 1000 Eyes of Dr. Mabuse – runs off, presumably to seek out his master's next host body.

Mabuse goes Bond

The greatest strength of the Dr. Mabuse series is its versatility. Mabuse's nature as a body-hopping malevolent spirit allows producer Artur Brauner to plug the character into any kind of scenario. And so Mabuse's postwar adventures have ranged from exploring Cold War paranoia and economic fears via offbeat gangster films and science fiction horror movies to a Mabuse film pretending to be an Edgar Wallace movie. With this latest movie, Dr. Mabuse tries out yet another genre, namely that of the James Bond influenced spy thriller.

Yoko Tani and Peter Van Eyck in The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse
The villainous Mercedes (Yoko Tani) tries to get in a shot at Major Bob Anders (Peter Van Eyck)

The James Bond movies – the most recent one of which, Goldfinger, premiered in the UK on the same day as The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse, though West German audiences won't get to see it until January – are enormously popular in Europe. Exotic locations, pulpy adventure and outlandish villains are a large part of the appeal of the Bond movies and since these ingredients can also be found in the Mabuse series, Mabuse and Bond should be a match made in heaven. And while Peter Van Eyck is no Sean Connery and a little old for an action hero (fifty-one compared to Connery's thirty-four), he certainly has the required charm and square-jawed handsomeness to play a Bond stand-in.

Yvonne Furneaux and Peter Van Eyck in The Death ray of Dr. Mabuse
Major Bob Anders (Peter Van Eyck) tangles with Gilda Larsen (Yvonne Furneaux) in "The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse"

There is only one problem. The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse just doesn't work, neither as a Mabuse movie nor as a Bond look-alike. The main issue here is that the James Bond movies present their exotic locations and beautiful women in full Technicolor glory, while the Mabuse films have always worked best when imitating the atmospheric black and white look of the expressionist cinema of the Weimar Republic which gave birth to the character. Mabuse thrives in the shadows, but Death Ray drags him into the bright Mediterranean sunshine. As a result, the exterior scenes feel overlit and washed out, while the extensive underwater scenes seem blurry and murky. I have no doubt that the coast of Malta – or rather the coast of Italy standing in for the coast of Malta – is beautiful, but in this movie it is just grey.

Would Death Ray have worked better, if it had been shot in colour? I suspect we'll never know. However, I'm not the only one who is dissatisfied with the movie, since the box office performance of Death Ray has been underwhelming so far. Opening against Winnetou II, one of the most highly anticipated movies of the year, didn't help either.

So what's next for Dr. Mabuse? Producer Artur Brauner has indicated that he still has plans for two more Mabuse movies. And the nature of the character and the series allows Brauner to forget that Death Ray ever existed and just start over with a new lead actor in a new location. The only question now is, what form will the next incarnation of Dr. Mabuse take.


[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




[September 24, 1964] Looking Backward (October 1964 Fantastic)


by Victoria Silverwolf

The Past is Prologue

The closing of two amusement parks in recent days caused many to look back nostalgically on the innocent fun of yesteryear.

Freedomland U.S.A., only four years old, shut its doors for good this month. Located in the Bronx, this Disneyland-with-a-New-York-accent featured several theme areas, including fun-filled, if not very accurate, recreations of the past and the future.


The world's largest, but not the most successful.

Only a few days later, the Coney Island attraction Steeplechase Park, which opened way back in 1897, received its last visitors as well.


Were you there six decades ago?

Popular music also turned to the past, as a new version of the folk song The House of the Rising Sun by the British rockers The Animals reached the top of the American charts early this month. It is still Number One as I type these words.


That's really lousy cover art for such a great song.

It's not unusual for a remake of an old number to become a hit, but this is an extreme example. Musicologists tell us the song's origins may go back as far as Sixteenth Century England, although this is a matter of debate. In any case, I was stunned, in a pleasant way, when I first heard this version. Eric Burdon's powerful vocals and Alan Price's compelling electronic organ solo make this a new classic, if you'll pardon the oxymoron.

In a similar way, the two longest stories in the latest issue of Fantastic seem to have come out of the yellowing pages of an old pulp magazine.

Gimme That Old-Time Sci-Fi, It's Good Enough For Me


Cover art by George Schelling

Beyond the Ebon Wall, by C. C. MacApp


Illustrations by Michael Arndt

This yarn starts off with the hero making a routine survey of a distant solar system. He finds a bizarre planet, half of which is missing, cut away from the other half by a black wall. Don't expect a hard SF story in the tradition of Hal Clement, with a scientific explanation for the weird phenomenon. Once the guy lands on the planet, the story becomes pure fantasy, of the sword-and-sorcery kind.

He meets four men, one of whom is an elderly fellow with a scarred face. There is also a pair of naked men fighting near the black wall. These two vanish into the wall, and the hero rather foolishly follows them. He finds himself trapped in another world, where he encounters another scarred old man, who seems to be the twin of the first one. We also get our first strong clue that we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto, when a magpie recites a prophetic poem to him.

What follows is an adventure story, full of action, and yet somehow leisurely. The hero is captured, and becomes the slave of a seafaring merchant who treats him decently. He becomes good buddies with a huge guy, who serves as our source of exposition. The two of them act as bait during the hunt for a dangerous animal. Surprisingly, the creature becomes as loyal to him as a friendly dog.


Does this look like a good house pet to you?

Stir in a pirate captain, a sorcerer, battles, escapes, and chase scenes. The hero eventually winds up where he started, and the story ends with a confusing time travel paradox.

The space exploration opening adds nothing to the plot, and even the time travel theme could have been the result of black magic. Other than the awkward blending of genres, this is an old-fashioned swashbuckler right out of Weird Tales. The hero and his giant pal are likable enough, but their adventures don't lead to very much.

Two stars.

The Grooves, by Jack Sharkey


Illustration by George Schelling

A foolhardy young man tells his grandmother that he's going to go into the underground lair of a troll and steal its gold. The old lady warns him that he must never kill a troll. We also find out that trolls have inverted souls, so they walk on the ceilings of their caverns. (No, that didn't make much sense to me, either.)

At this point, I thought that the trolls were going to turn out to be aliens, or maybe people in spacesuits. Nothing of the kind happens. The story is pure fantasy, and the plot is as simple as can be. The stupid protagonist discovers why he shouldn't kill a troll, and learns the meaning of a couple of marks on the wall of the cave, the secret of which is neither surprising nor interesting.

Two stars.

Seed of Eloraspon (Part One of Two), by Manly Banister


Illustration by George Schelling

Allow me to indulge in a little reminiscing of my own. My very first article for Galactic Journey, almost exactly three years ago, was about the October 1961 issue of Fantastic. Included in the magazine was the second half of the short novel Magnanthropus by Manly Banister. For reasons I cannot explain, this work was very popular with readers. Here comes the sequel.

In the first novel, the main character crossed over from a future Earth to the planet Eloraspon when the two worlds somehow collided with each other across dimensions. As far as he knew, Earth was destroyed. He also found out that he was a Magnanthropus, which is a kind of superman with special mental powers.

The sequel begins with the hero traveling from the northern continent of Eloraspon to the southern one, in search of the city of Surandanish, the ancient capital of an advanced civilization, now vanished. (His Magnanthropus powers direct him to seek out the place, for reasons not yet clear.) Along the way he meets the fairy-like beings we saw in the first story, although they don't have anything to do with the plot, so far.


The charming but irrelevant butterfly people.

He rescues a beautiful warrior princess from a monster and they fall in love so fast it'll make your head spin. Interfering with their romance are the Tharn, a bunch of nasty, ugly folks who live only to kill and enslave. The hero battles one Tharn who used to be a regular fellow, but who lost his good looks when he consumed some of the addictive substance that makes the Tharn so hideous and mean. (Take a look at the cover art for a portrait of a Tharn. The real thing isn't anywhere near that big, however, only a little larger than a non-Tharn.)

Defeated in battle, the Tharn-who-wasn't-always-a-Tharn becomes the hero's loyal companion. Together they set out after the princess, who was captured while they were fighting. They get thrown in a dungeon, but the hero uses his convenient Magnanthropus abilities to travel through walls and attack their captors.


Take that, Tharn scum!

He also acquires another ally, a fellow Earthman who tells him that the world wasn't really destroyed, although it was badly shook up. They meet the mysterious Bronze Men, who are supposed to be immortal, although the hero apparently kills one of them pretty quickly. Our trio of Good Guys wind up captured again, and this half of the novel ends as they are about to be slain by a flying monster, while the princess is held captive by the leader of the Tharn.

Like the lead novelette by MacApp, this is an old-fashioned fantasy adventure with some science fiction trappings. I suspect that fans of Edgar Rice Burroughs made up a good portion of those who praised the first novel, with a comment like they don't write 'em like that anymore. Frankly, I'm glad they don't.

Two stars.

Home to Zero, by David R. Bunch

Nobody will ever accuse this author of rehashing old-time stories. His latest offering is a typically opaque and depressing bit of prose, written in his usual eccentric style. As far as I can tell, it has something to do with a being who used to be a man, but is now all machine. He, or it, or possibly humanity in general, sent probes out to the ends of the cosmos. Now it, or he, seeks only nothingness. Maybe. Your guess is as good as mine. At least it's weird enough, and short enough, to avoid boredom.

Two stars.

Encounter, by Piers Anthony


Illustration by Robert Adragna

The protagonist lives in an ultra-urbanized future, where most people never leave their homes. He travels an incredibly long road through a deserted area, inhabited by packs of feral dogs and hordes of rats. Although the setting is the Atlantic coast of North America, he also encounters savage peccaries, and, most amazingly, a tiger. The man and the cat become wary allies in their mutual battle against the wild pigs.

It was a relief to read a story that was neither corny nor incomprehensible. It's a reasonably enjoyable little tale, which achieves its modest goals in an efficient, if unspectacular, way.

Three stars.

Midnight in the Mirror World, by Fritz Leiber


Illustration by Virgil Finlay

One of the easiest ways to look back at things is to gaze into a mirror. It's not a coincidence, I believe, that the word reflection can refer to an image seen in a shiny surface, or to the act of musing over one's experiences. Such were my thoughts, anyway, when I read the newest creation by a master of imaginative fiction.

The protagonist is a man in late middle age, divorced and living alone, who sleeps during the day and enjoys his three hobbies of astronomy, correspondence chess, and playing classical music on his piano at night. (Sounds like a pretty nice lifestyle to me, to tell the truth.)

As part of his nightly routine, each midnight he passes between two parallel mirrors on his way to the piano. As many of us have experienced, this creates the illusion of an infinite number of selves within the glass. One night, he sees a dark figure touching one of his reflections, which seems terrified. Each night the figure comes closer, until he recognizes it. Inevitably, the figure emerges, leading to a final encounter.

The synopsis I've provided makes this sound like a supernatural horror story, and that's certainly an accurate description. Will you believe me if I tell you that it's also a love story, and that the frightening ending can also be seen as a happy one?

Beautifully written, with the author's elegant style and gift for striking images on full display, this quietly chilling tale draws the reader into its world of darkness and light. The conclusion may not be completely unexpected, but it's a fine story nonetheless.

Four stars.

Nostalgia Ain't What It Used To Be

So how was this literary trip down memory lane? Disappointing, for the most part. I suppose it's only natural to yearn for the things one enjoyed at a much younger age, but science fiction and fantasy have progressed, I think, over the past several decades. It's no longer enough to have mighty heroes combating fiendish villains in an exotic setting.

The avant-garde writings of Bunch warn us, however, that's it's possible to go too far the other way, and throw out the baby of clarity with the bathwater of familiarity. Leiber, and to a lesser extent, Anthony, understand this, and manage to provide readers with something new, while paying the proper amount of tribute to literary traditions.

I wonder if, sometime in the Twenty-First Century, SF fans will look back at the stories of the Sixties with a wistful sigh, and crack open the brittle pages of an old magazine in an attempt to bring back the sensations that felt so new at the time.


An old science fiction classic worth revisiting.

[September 22, 1964] Fall back!  (October 1964 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

[Don't miss your chance to get your copy of Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), some of the best science fiction of the Silver Age.  If you like the Journey, you'll love this book (and you'll be helping us out, too!)



by Gideon Marcus

To every thing there is a season

Even in timeless southern California, we have seasons.  In the Imperial Valley, it is joked, there are four: Hot, Bug, Stink, and Wind.  Here in San Diego, spring comes in summer, summer comes in fall, fall comes in winter, and winter not at all.

Yet here and there, we see a deciduous tree start to change color.  The end-of-summer mornings have a hint of chill in them.  Things proceed in an endless cycle.

The same is true of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science FictionLast month, I raved over a superlative issue, an increasing rarity under the current editorship of one Avram Davidson.  I am sad to report that things are back to form in this month's issue.

I think part of the problem is that, as Davidson cheerfully confesses, he's not really into science fiction.  He bounces off the truly hard stuff, like Martin Caidin's quite good Countdown and fills his magazine with fantastic fluff…and then has the temerity to complain that people don't sent him plain old rocket stories anymore!

On the other hand, the rumor has been confirmed — Davidson has moved to Berkeley from Mexico, and someone else is taking over the magazine.  I hear that Joe Ferman, currently publisher, will take the helm, but that his son, Ed, will do all the work.  I look forward to seeing what they bring to the table.

But first, let's take a look at what is possibly Davidson's last editorial effort, what he optimistically calls an "All Star Issue".

Autumn Harvest


by Chesley Bonstell

Once again, the cover is stunning — and utterly unrelated to the contents of the issue.  It's a depiction of an ion-drive propelled ship off of Mars, and it's from the book Beyond the Solar System, presumably available on bookshelves near you.

Purple Priestess of the Mad Moon, by Leigh Brackett

The first of the All Stars is the legendary Leigh Brackett, queen of pulp and accomplished screenwriter.  This tale actually began as a joke nine years ago, when a fictional title was created to represent the kind of fiction Brackett excelled at.  Purple Priestess is the author's attempt to turn a joke into reality.

It has all the hallmarks of a pulp Mars, from the thin air to the drying canals, the ancient natives who speak High and Low Martian.  And, of course, out in the frigid deserts lies an antediluvian evil so terrible that none can experience its presence and fail to gibber.

I enjoyed Lovecraft's stories well enough in the '30s , but I'm disappointed to find one presented unironically in what was once the premier SF mag.  Two stars.

The Pro, by Edmond Hamilton

The subsequent piece, by Brackett's husband (of similar vintage) is better.  One can't help but see a bit of the autobiographical in this story about a science fiction author who finally gets to see the rocketships he created in fiction become reality at the Cape.  Only the launching of the latest of them is not a joyous occasion, for the writer's child is the pilot.  Even if the mission goes well, it marks a final rift between father and son, one the writer is sure can never be bridged.

A bit maudlin but enjoyable.  Three stars.

Stomata, by Theodore L. Thomas

Thomas' latest short story idea disguised as a non-fiction article takes the idea of stomata, the pores that allow plants to respire, and posits an race that uses them for everything — breathing, eating, excreting.

I don't know how plausible the idea is.  On the other hand, Pinky the Blob, debuting in one of my upcoming books, employs exactly this mechanism.  Great minds think alike.

Three stars.

Maid to Measure, by Damon Knight

Five years ago, Damon Knight came out with What Rough Beast, a story so excellent that I'm reading it again in the Spanish edition of F&SF

Maid to Measure, a joke-ending vignette about a shape-changing girl, is as trivial as Beast is momentous.

Two stars.

Little Anton, by Reginald Bretnor

Bretnor is perhaps better known to the readers of F&SF as Grendall Briarton, composer of the recently finished series of "Feghoot" pun stories.  After reading this awful reprint, the story of an idiot savant inventor with a tedious Swiss accent and a penchant for pinching posteriors, I'm actually nostalgic for Briarton.

One star.

First and Rearmost, by Isaac Asimov

Doc A. turns in an above average science article this month, all about how gravity stacks up to the other three primal forces of the universe: electromagnetism, the weak nuclear force, and the strong nuclear force (his omission of love and money are probably deliberate).  It's all stuff I knew already, but he lays it out nicely for laymen.

Four stars.

The Year of the Earthman, by Hogan Smith

An old, radiation-scarred astronaut goes AWOL to marry a lovely extraterrestrial lass, dying just moments after he learns that they will have a son.  And then we learn the truth of the space traveler's existence.

Not a bad tale, though it makes little scientific sense.  Also, Hogan Smith is the opposite of an All Star — this is is first story!  But he's from San Diego, so all is forgiven.

Three stars.

In What Cavern of the Deep, by Robert F. Young

Robert F. Young's little autobiography at the front of Cavern is quite interesting.  Like me, he came into the genre by way of Burroughs and then Wells, and also like me, he tried making an honest living before deciding that writing is the most fun one can have with their hands — especially if one gets paid for it!

Young writes stories inspired by mythology and folklore, and while he has come out with some of my very favorite stories, his works from the last several years have been disappointing and mawkish.  His latest falls somewhere inbetween.

David Stuart is a poor young man made rich through inheritance from an uncle.  While investigating the deceased's estate, he comes across two swimming sisters and promptly falls in love with Helen, the blonder of them.  But the ensuing marital bliss is dashed by the revelation that Helen is growing taller by the week, approaching titanic proportions after just a year.  It's sort of an inverse of Richard Matheson's The Incredible Shrinking Man.  At the same time, David's wife becomes more and more enamored with bodies of water, swimming constantly and even growing gill slits.

Is Helen a beast of the sea?  An alien?  And is the story going to end horrifically (as set up in the prologue) with David hurtling five smooth stones to smite his monstrous love?

Cavern is a bit of a departure from Young's previous stories in that, though he makes conscious references to the biblical King David, this is more to obscure the plot than to outline it.  The piece is told with Young's usual excellent facility, and I found myself eager to get to the end.

On the other hand, the end is just a bit too pat, too clearly presented to be very satisfying.  What could have been a 4 or even 5 star story ends up on the high end of 3.

Empty Cornucopia

If this be Davidson's swansong, he picked a sad note to go out on.  Maybe he's got one issue more in him before he shuffles off F&SF's bridge — I'd like to have fonder memories of this phase of his career!


[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




[September 20, 1964] Apocalypses and other trivia (Galactoscope)

[Don't miss your chance to get your copy of Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), some of the best science fiction of the Silver Age.  If you like the Journey, you'll love this book (and you'll be helping us out, too!)]


[This month's Galactoscope features two global catastrophes, two collections, and four authors you've almost certainly heard of!]



by Jason Sacks

The Penultimate Truth, by Philip K. Dick

Like many fans, I first became really aware of Philip K. Dick after he won the 1963 Hugo Award for Best Novel for his remarkable The Man in the High Castle. That book dazzled in its chronicle of an alternate history in which the Nazis and Japanese won World War II (which opened up many areas of thought and conversation for me and my friends) as well as in its brilliant world-building and the fascinating, multifaceted characters at the heart of Dick's award-winner.

High Castle was also an amazingly tight novel, packing a dense plot into its mere 240 pages. As many of us Dick fans have learned, not all of his works are quite so tightly plotted. I adored his Martian Time-Slip and Dr. Bloodmoney from last year, but those books tended to both delight and annoy in their meandering, nearly stream-of-consciousness styles.

The newest Philip K. Dick novel, The Penultimate Truth (just out in paperback from Belmont) fills a bit of the gap between his ’62 masterpiece and the challenging ’63 books. This thoroughly delightful book wanders a bit but always held me in its comforting grasp.

The Penultimate Truth is shambolic and episodic, but that approach serves the work well. Its main characters are living shambolic lives, which Dick depicts as full of odd episodes which occasionally have great and beautiful moments of transcendence, even in the post-apocalyptic wasteland in which the book is set.

Note that this review will reveal elements of the book, comments that "spoil", if you will, so skip down to the next review if you love surprises in your fiction.

In the future world of this book, much of humanity lives in massive underground bunkers, nicknamed anthills, in which they build weapons and medical devices for the nuclear war they believe is ravaging the surface of the Earth. When Nick St. James, the president of one anthill, makes his way to the surface, St. James discovers his people have been lied to. The world on the surface has survived nuclear devastation and has emerged into a unique and odd civilization. Needless to say, the revelation of the relatively peaceful world surface changes nearly everything.

What makes this novel so special, though, is that those revelations don't change the way St. James views his world. He doesn’t become a noble crusader for truth or a vengeful destroyer of the new civilization. Instead our protagonist goes the opposite way of most heroic leads. Instead of rebelling, he goes out of his way to allow the world to stay in its current state. He will not let the truth of his world change life in the anthill. The penultimate truth of the story is the truth behind the nuclear war. But the ultimate truth is more powerful: it is the special bond society creates, the relationships created and enduring for decades, and the lies and half-truths that are necessary to perpetuate that society.

This description makes The Penultimate Truth sound heady and brainy, and it is filled with a intriguing level of intelligence and wisdom about human nature. But it is also has the several elements we have come to expect from Dick’s finest work.

First and foremost, this is an exciting story, with scenes of high adventure, escapes and shootouts which keep the reader turning the page. There are mysteries piled upon mysteries, characters who shift and change as the story proceeds only to have them revealed in ways for which the reader was foreshadowed but for which he likely could not have anticipated.

Secondly, this is a wise and fascinating study of human nature. The Penultimate Truth is about jealousy and lust for power balanced with trust and love for family and friends. It sets stability and chaos in opposite sides of the metaphorical coin in ways few other novels of any type have explored, and in doing so shows the power of novelistic science fiction in the hands of a master of the medium.

Thirdly, this book seems to explode with ideas, from the anthills (an idea Dick has explored in some of his short fiction such as “Second Variety”) to the vast demesnes in which the surface dwellers live, to the vast conspiracies used to keep ordinary people following their leaders. In fact, it is in that last set of ideas that Dick falls down a bit for me. I had trouble imagining a government systematically lying to its people in the way described here. In a world in which leaders are elected by the governed, there is no reason for leaders to lie to their people. [Oh, my sweet country mouse…(Ed.)]

And the last element I’ve come to love in Dick’s work comes from the very end of the book. In my mind there are two endings to this novel, and in fact I won’t reveal them here so you can experience them yourself. But I’m curious how many readers wish The Penultimate Truth had ended with the deeply ironic penultimate chapter as its conclusion as opposed to those who preferred the redemptive final chapter.

Throw in some gorgeously descriptive language and you have one of the finest science fiction novels of 1964. I hope Mr. Dick brings home another Hugo next year from London.

4.5 stars



by Gideon Marcus

Tongues of the Moon, by Philip J. Farmer

Three years ago, just before John Boston started reviewing Amazing for us, Philip Jose Farmer had a short story called Tongues of the Moon.  The tale began with a literal bang: the Axis of southern nations launched a preemptive strike on the Communist Northern Hemisphere (including a subjugated United States kept pacified with skull-mounted pain inducers!), and the entire world was destroyed.  At the same time, the "Axes" attacked their enemies throughout the solar system — from Mercury to the Mars, Copernicus to Callisto.  Our hero, a scientist named Broward, is caught in a crossfire at what was supposed to be a lunar peace conference.  Together with the monomaniacal American, Scone, he manages to escape the fight and deactivate the central pain induction center on the Moon.  Now free agents, Scone finds himself the leader of some of the very few human beings left alive.  Can he knit together a new human race from the four hundred survivors representing dozens of nations and ideologies?  Can a viable culture be created when men outnumber women 4:1?

These are all excellent questions, and I'm not surprised that Farmer decided to expand his novelette into a full novel.  Unfortunately, what could have been a fascinating sociological study is subverted in favor of a fairly pedestrian adventure story and a series of treasure hunts.

In the expanded portion of the book, Broward is dispatched to the ruined Earth to find a planet-destroying bomb.  The plan is to destroy the last significant Axis presence in the system, their colony on Mars, so that the Moon is safe.  But Broward recognizes paranoia when he sees it, and he is reluctant to carry out Scone's plan, which will cause yet more decimation of the human population.  He also, understandably so, has issues with Scone's plan to condemn the remaining women to forced multiple marriages.  And so begins a merry excursion — to the caves of Siberia, the undersea domes of the Mediterranean, the vastness of outerspace, the tunnels of Mars.  Tongues never stops to take a breath, and each sequence is more or less self-contained.  The most interesting bit involves the Siberian expedition, when Broward takes along as co-pilot the last Jew in the world (and probably the last person of Japanese extraction, too).  In this section are tantalizing hints of what the story might have been.  Alas, all development is tossed for more running and chasing.

It has been said of Farmer that he is "always almost good", which is not nearly as nice as "almost always good."  This latest book continues the trend.  Someday he'll make a masterpiece.  Until then, he's just a decent writer who can never quite deliver.

3.5 stars



by Rosemary Benton

Ace Double: "The Million Year Hunt" by Kenneth Bulmer and "Ships to the Stars" by Fritz Leiber

Ace Double novels are always a treat. Even though they are largely reprints of stories from the 1950s I always feel like I have rediscovered something special when I pick up one of these books at the bookstore. This month's release features titles by veteran authors Fritz Leiber and Kenneth Bulmer. Given the styles of each author I was intrigued to see how they would read back to back. Sadly to say, this was not one of the better lineups from Ace.

"The Million Year Hunt" by Kenneth Bulmer

Kenneth Bulmer's contribution to this month's Ace Double follows the adventures of a scrap yard worker turned savior of the human race. The story begins as we drop in on the aftermath of a prank pulled by protagonist Arthur Ross Carson, a mischievous young colonist on a back-water planet with few prospects. In short order he finds himself contending with the unjust killing of his fiancé Lucy, startling news of his parentage, and the piteous million-year mission of an alien conscious that enters his body. This is a lot to unwrap within less than 150 pages, and that's not even the full extent of the plot. Bulmer goes on to reveal a slew of converging political schemes to control the universe, including a program to selectively breed a successor to lead the intergalactic police force known as the Galactic Guard.

I felt like I was reading a much larger story that had been brutally and awkwardly chopped down to fit a page count limit. Up to the very last sentence the story is rife with major plot points that are not resolved, gawky transitions of emotion within the cast of characters, and plot twists that feel last minute and cheap. I can't overstate the issue that lies with the jerking sensation the reader gets as the story shifts from scene to scene. So awkward and halting was the pace that I just couldn't believe Bulmer was the one to give it a final proof read before sending it to publication. There was just no way a man as prolific as him could have been satisfied with this story, a public presentation by which he would be judged as a writer, going to press in the state it's in.

If "The Million Year Hunt" is indeed the butchered result of a much larger manuscript, then the most tragic victims of its murder were the emotional transitions of the characters and the quirky, adventurous and lighthearted atmosphere that was so desperately trying to take hold. The easy and funny dialogue between Arthur Ross Carson and the alien conscious that strapped itself to him nervous system is very entertaining to read. Their banter actually comprises some of the best scenes in this story. Instead of clunky exposition their conversations dynamically teased out information on their respective pasts, personalities, and surroundings.

If only Bulmer could have let the characters be themselves stumbling through space on adventures loosely tied to an end goal, specifically Carson's mission of revenge and his origin as the "savior" of the Galactic Guard, then this would have been a fantastic story. Unfortunately in its current state "The Million Year Hunt" is not a story that should have made it to print.

[Apparently, The Million Year Hunt is a fix-up of sorts, created from Scarlet Denial in Science Fiction Adventures No. 26, and Scarlet Dawn in Science Fiction Adventures No. 28. Both came out in 1962, published in the United Kingdom. The text is unchanged from the originals. (ed)]

"Ships to the Stars" by Fritz Leiber

On the other side of this Ace Double is a collection of six short stories by power house actor and novelist Fritz Leiber. In contrast to Bulmer's story, Leiber's "Dr. Kometevsky's Day", "The Big Trek", "The Enchanted Forest", "Deadly Moon", "The Snowbank Orbit", and "The Ship Sails at Midnight" are all well structured with tight plots and developed characters. Leiber's writing also demonstrates a more measured understanding of how to maintain the flow of a story. The tendency of his characters to repeatedly ponder the effects fear has on them makes them fragile, fallible, and very true to the duality of human nature. They want to know and see everything, but there are limits to what they can understand and what their eyes have access to. Leiber's inclusion of these relatable and basic human failings forms a tension in his stories that would be otherwise missing if he had held full faith in humanity's ability to rationalize everything with science.

The strongest short stories in this small selection were "The Big Trek" and "The Ship Sails at Midnight". In these two tales the reader can really see Leiber's deep connection with the gothic authors whom he draws inspiration from. In "The Big Trek" Leiber writes from the first-person perspective of a man joining a feverish march of bizarre beings from across the universe. The employment of fluctuating space and loose concepts of time's passage echoes William Hope Hodgson's "The House on the Borderland" (1908) and pretty much any piece by Edgar Allan Poe. The narrator's awe and trepidation touched with excitement are also very similar to Arthur Machen's inner voice within "The White People" (1904).

Like H. P. Lovecraft and Lord Dunsany, Leiber's strongest talent as a writer is keeping his characters grounded by the weighty truth that humans are far from the most powerful forces in the universe. All of Leiber's stories have humans sprinting to stay out of the way of some larger, stronger entity charging through with little interest in our species’ plight. "The Ship Sails at Midnight" best encapsulates this with its accompanying message that humans have such potential but are so readily self-sabotaging.

The joy of reading Fritz Leiber’s short stories greatly made up for my disappointment in Kenneth Bulmer’s novella. Fast paced, thoughtful and touching, they make this Ace Double a worthwhile purchase. I will absolutely be looking forward to reading more of his work in the future.


[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




[September 18, 1964] Split Personality (October 1964 IF)

[Don't miss your chance to get your copy of Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), some of the best science fiction of the Silver Age.  If you like the Journey, you'll love this book (and you'll be helping us out, too!)


by Gideon Marcus

Which one is it?

It's election season, and the commercials are already out in force.  Maybe it's just my neighborhood, but it seems that LBJ is crowding the airwaves a lot more than Barry Goldwater at this point.  One effective ad notes several times the GOP candidate has made mutually contradictory statements and asks "How is a Republican supposed to note on his ballot which Barry he's voting for?"

This piece is a pretty low blow.  Make no mistake — there's no way I'm voting for a reactionary this November, but if there's one thing one can say for Barry, he's consistent.  I'd rather see some positive messaging.  Lord knows LBJ has plenty of successes to run on.

But while Goldwater's split personality may all be a Madison Avenue construct, the schizophrenic nature of IF, Worlds of Science Fiction magazine is very real.  IF has always been Galaxy's experimental little sister, the place where the more offbeat stories, the lesser known writers are featured.  As a result, it is the more variable mag, with higher highs and lower lows, often within the same issue. 

This dual nature is perfectly represented in microcosm with the latest October 1964 issue:


by Paul E. Wenzel (note the obscured "September 1964")

The first thing you might notice is that the issue was clearly intended to have a September date.  IF went to a monthly schedule in August (after years as a bi-monthly), but there was trouble at the printers, and things got delayed.

When the issue finally came, it was very much a mixed bag, with trouble appearing right from the start:

The Castle of Light, by Keith Laumer


by Jack Gaughan

Within the pages of IF, Keith Laumer's name is inextricably linked with that of his creation, Retief, that sardonic super-spy in diplomat's clothing.  What began as a more tongue-in-cheek version of Harrison's "Stainless Steel Rat" is becoming a tired series of retreads.  This particular story involves an invasion by the squamous Groaci, who take legal possession of a planet by landing 50,000 troops in cities abandoned by the native populace during a global religious ceremony.  The piece rambles, and the jokes — like the characters — are flatter than usual.

Two stars.

Mad Man, by R. A. Lafferty

The ever-whimsical Lafferty offers up a piece about androids who only attain genius capability when given their daily dose of anger enzyme.  Said extraction is provided by a group of human individuals kept thoroughly miserable through poor working conditions and constant aggravation by paid actors.  But when one android develops a kinship for her donor, the formerly angry man's heart melts, and his biochemistry becomes useless.  Can a replacement be found?

I imagine some will like this story.  I found it contrived, cruel, and rather pointless.

Two stars.

Gremmie's Reef, by Hayden Howard


by Virgil Finlay

In which a teenage surfer is delighted to find a perfect wave break on a formerly unpromising beach, thanks to a new reef.  Turns out the reef is an alien biological probe, and as might be expected, it's not a friendly one.

The surfing scenes are nicely rendered, but the third-person omniscient viewpoint, the shrieky characters, and the Twilight Zone ending all suggested a young novice of a writer.  Imagine my surprise when I checked my notes and found that Hayden Howard has been writing for more than a decade, and I've even covered one of his stories before!

Nice try, but it's another two.

Rescue Mission, by Kit Reed

Science teacher goes on sabbatical to the mountains and finds his cottage besieged with bugs.  Turns out they are the servants of Mavna, the alien beauty who resides one cottage over, and she is using the crawlies to send the prof a message: (paraphrased) "Help me fend off these three oafs I'm staying with so I can sacrifice myself for the operation of our interstellar matter transmitter!"

Reed, an author I'm quite fond of, has written exclusively for F&SF since she started half a decade ago.  This rather silly piece would fit better in that magazine.  That it wasn't published there is not surprising — it's probably the weakest story Reed has produced.

Two stars.

Monster Tracks, by Robert E. Margroff

The last piece of short fiction in the issue is by a genuinely new author, about a boy raised in a post-apocalyptic world ravaged by aliens.  They came in "peace", disguised as tourists, bringing gifts and cute pets, but it was all a ploy.  Their gifts were bombs, their luggage was guns, and their pets are poison.  Our young protagonist is almost taken in by a cute rabbit-like creature before being saved by his savvy uncle.

Not much to this one.  Two stars.

Farnham's Freehold (Part 3 of 3), by Robert A. Heinlein


by Jack Gaughan

"Where's the split?" I hear you ask.  So far, this issue has been a solid disappointment — how could it be a mixed bag?

Well, editor Fred Pohl got a ringer.

Robert Heinlein is one of the masters of the field with dozens of classic titles to his name.  To be sure, his record has been tarnished a bit lately by such substandard works as Stranger in a Strange Land and Podkayne of Mars.  Moreover, the first installment of his latest serial, Farnham's Freehold, got off to a stultifying start.

But then it got better.  In Part 1, Hubert Farnham and his family (including his house-servant and his side-girlfriend) are whisked thousands of years into the future thanks to a new Russkie bomb.  That first bit reads like a cross between a libertarian screed and the Boy Scout Handbook.  But in Part 2, we meet the inheritors of the atomically ravaged Earth, the dark-skinned peoples of Africa and India.  Hugh and co. are made privileged slaves — except for Joseph, Hugh's servant.  His Black skin makes him a de facto member of the ruling caste, and he is afforded the privileges thereof.  We learn a lot about the new society, and this section is genuinely interesting.

Part 3 more-or-less sticks the landing.  It is all about Hugh's attempt to escape his gilded cage along with mistress Barbara and their newly born twin sons.  While his first attempts end in failure (and this part is not unlike the middle section of Have Spacesuit Will Travel — thrilling but ultimately pointless), Hugh's kindly master ends up sending him and his family back in time to just before the Bomb goes off, and they have a second chance at life.

It's a thrilling page-turner, and I liked the central message: decadence and depravity have nothing to do with color or national origin.  It all boils down to Lord Acton's dictum, "Power corrupts".  I especially appreciated that the story recognized the unequal status of Joseph, and does not condemn him for throwing his lot in with America's new rulers.  Whatever loyalty Joe had to Hugh, he has found his Earthly paradise — unfair to others, perhaps, but wasn't that just after a lifetime of discrimination?  Hugh is dismayed, but not surprised.  After all, whatever his libertarian aspirations, he was part of the problem.

I'd give this last part five stars except that the ending is awfully abrupt.  All told, I think the novel earns an aggregate of 3.75 stars and, if you can get through the beginning, suggests a return to form of the author.

Making Whole

This latest issue of IF reminds me of Analog a few years back, when the serials were generally good and the other material sub-par (I note with bemusement that while Heinlein's Farnham would fit stylistically in Analog, the editor of said mag would never allow a storyline where the Whites are slaves…) When all is computed, the magazine actually scores above the 3-star middle, which tells you how good the second half is compared to the first.

In any event, the vice of a split-personality magazine is also its virtue: if one can always count on one or more stories not being very good, one can also expect at least one nugget of gold. 

And wasn't my entire state founded on the search for such nuggets?


[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




[September 16, 1964] The Waiting Game (November 1964 Worlds of Tomorrow)


by Victoria Silverwolf

Patience is a Virtue

If you're like me, you look forward to the arrival of the latest issues of your favorite magazines at the local newsstand. You carefully calculate the exact day they'll show up and get there ahead of time, eager to meet the delivery person who loads all the publications off the truck. There they are, ready for the metal wires that hold them together in bundles to come off so they can go on display.

You may understand my consternation, then, when Worlds of Tomorrow failed to make an appearance on the scheduled date last month. Since it's a relatively new magazine, I figured that, like so many other science fiction publications, it was out of business.

Imagine my delight when I saw it again, thirty days later. Why the delay? Let me hand the microphone to editor Frederik Pohl, who can explain the situation better than I can, and who will also offer us a preview of the next issue.

Thanks for clearing that up, Fred. Now let me take a look at the contents of the current issue.

Better Late Than Never


Cover art by George Schelling

Killer!, by Robert Ray


Illustrations by Gray Morrow

Taking up one-third of the magazine is a novella by an author new to me. The gentleman with the gun, pictured above, is trained as an assassin by the taller man standing next to him, his half-brother. There is no love lost between the two. The intended target is the newly arisen dictator of a planet populated by very human aliens. (The only important difference between the two species is that the aliens are all short, light-skinned, and fair-haired. In this future, almost all human beings are tall, dark-haired, and have black or dark brown skin. Our antihero happens to be one of the rare persons who resemble the aliens.)

The agency for which the half-brothers work believes that the dictator poses a threat to Earth, even though his species does not yet have space travel. If that seems paranoid, well, so do nearly all the characters in this grim story.


The target.

The assassin's mission is to disguise himself as an alien and use a local weapon to kill the dictator, so Earth won't be blamed. What he doesn't know, but the reader does, is that the agency planted a hypnotic suggestion in his brain, so that he will kill himself immediately after the assassination.


Surfing down to the planet.

As soon as he arrives on the alien world, things go wrong. The dictator's forces are far more powerful and technologically advanced than the agency thought, thanks to the secret intervention of another species of alien. (They aren't quite so human, thank goodness, so we can keep track of who's doing what.)


The hero in typical form, about to knock out an innocent bystander.

What follows is an extended series of captures, escapes, chases, and violent battles. The protagonist, formerly ready to murder without qualms, slowly develops a conscience after he kills several aliens.


Take that, alien scum!

He eventually figures out that he's been set up as a sacrificial lamb, and tries to carry out his mission while staying alive. It all leads up to a very dark ending.

This is a fast-moving, action-packed spy adventure, with plenty of twists and turns in the plot. It's a quick read for its length, although some of the author's sentences are a little clumsy. The story's cynical view of espionage reminds me of last year's bestselling novel The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, by John le Carré, although I certainly wouldn't say it's as good. Worth reading, but not a classic by any means.

Three stars.

Natural History of the Kley, by Jerome Bixby

This mock article deals with microscopic intelligent beings who live on animal hairs. Humans only find out about them after they've been wiped out by a substance that kills all animal parasites on Earth. The mood changes from black comedy and satire to sheer silliness, as the author treats us to a series of groan-inducing puns. It's inoffensive, and not as bad as a Feghoot, but that's about the best I can say.

Two stars.

The Long Way, by A. Bertram Chandler and Susan Chandler


Illustration by Norman Nodel

A male space explorer and a female artist at a nudist colony, not quite romantically involved, meet a fellow who believes in dowsing. He's able to demonstrate the procedure successfully. (It seems that dowsing works better when you're naked.) Convinced that there's something to it, the spaceman does his own dowsing, in order to find a missing earring for the artist. Because the earring is shaped like a star, and the man is thinking about interstellar travel at the time, they wind up very far from home indeed. They are able to make their way back to Earth by doing some more dowsing, but things don't turn out the way they hope.

This collaboration between a well-known author and his more obscure wife isn't very convincing, as you can probably tell from the above synopsis. The theme of dowsing makes me wonder if it was intended for the pages of Analog. I think even John W. Campbell, Jr., would reject the premise as too unbelievable. The twist ending adds another layer of implausibility.

Two stars.

The Kicksters, by J. T. McIntosh


Illustrations by Gray Morrow

A group of thrill-seeking teenagers, the sons and daughters of the wealthy, play dangerous games of chicken to see who's the bravest. Their latest competition, as shown above, involves free-falling from a great height while wearing a jet pack. The trick is to turn on the jets at the last possible moment, in order to avoid being smashed into a pulp.

The boldest of the gang is a girl named Peach. Bored with risking her life in the usual ways, she decides on an even more hazardous prank. She and her boyfriend, who tries to convince her to drop the whole thing all the way through the story, travel to the Moon under false identities. She sneaks into the main jet of a spacecraft ready to return to Earth. The ship doesn't use the main jet until it's about to land, so she'll be able to survive inside a spacesuit. The joke is to force the ship to turn around and land on the Moon again. (It doesn't need to use the main jet in the lesser gravity of the satellite.)


Peach, approaching the ship unseen.

The captain of the spacecraft hates spoiled brats, particularly female ones. Since he doesn't have absolute proof that anyone is inside the main jet, even though Peach's boyfriend, as planned, lets everybody know, he refuses to delay his journey to Earth. The second-in-command, desperate to save the girl's life, comes up with various plans, but all of them prove to be impossible. It seems as if Peach is doomed.

The sense that the laws of physics are conspiring to kill the heroine reminds me of the famous story The Cold Equations by Tom Godwin. The story creates genuine suspense as to whether the protagonist is going to live or die. I'll admit that the situation is a bit contrived, but I have to give the author credit for thinking up all possible objections to the premise, and answering them in a logical fashion. Peach, although definitely foolhardy and selfish, also manages to be appealing in some ways. The captain and the second-in-command also turn out to be more complex characters than they might seem at first.

Four stars.

The Carson Effect, by Richard Wilson


Illustration by Norman Nodel

At first, this story seems to be nothing but a series of unrelated vignettes. A newspaper reporter struggles over the writing of an article about something that hasn't happened yet. A man, desperate for money to pay for his wife's operation, makes a feeble attempt at robbing a bank, only to have the teller give him much more cash than he demands, without a word of argument. A woman nervously asks her employer for a small amount of money to make up for the taxi she had to take to perform an errand, and winds up getting hundreds of dollars and the rest of the day off. A six-year-old boy thinks he can buy an extremely expensive brooch for his mother from Tiffany's, and the clerk gladly sells it to him for one dollar. The President of the United States resigns his office, turning it over to the Vice President, who is obviously unfit for the job.

We return to the reporter and discover the reason for these strange events, which I won't reveal here. I also won't talk about the ironic ending, which changes everything that happened before. Suffice to say that the story looks at a very big event from several very small perspectives, and does so in an effective manner.

Four stars.

The Fruit of the Tree, by Lester del Rey

This issue's non-fiction article speculates about the possibility of altering the genetic characteristics of living organisms. By 1980, the author believes, we'll be able to produce fruits and vegetables that will stay edible, without refrigeration, for many years, and even have flavors previously unknown. We'll be able to get edible nuts, maple and/or latex sap, and lumber, better than any used today, from a single tree. New kinds of animals will appear, supplying carnivores with novel cuts of meat. (Vegetarians, like myself, will have plants that taste exactly like meat. I'm not sure I want that.) Scientists will create replacement organs, grown from scratch, for those suffering from disease.

The author lets his imagination run wild, coming up with a lot of ideas for science fiction stories, if nothing else. I doubt I'll see all these wonders a mere sixteen years from now, but I could be wrong. Even if it's hard to believe everything this essay says, it makes for interesting reading.

Three stars.

Somewhere in Space, by C. C. MacApp


Illustrations by John Giunta

Some time before this story begins, people found alien teleportation technology on Mars. Since then, it's been used routinely, with few problems. Up until now, that is. Without explanation, folks without close relatives or friends disappear into thin air after using the teleportation device. The protagonist is a technician who accepts the dangerous but extremely lucrative assignment of figuring out what's going on. Not only does he know as much about the technology as any human being can, he's another loner, expected to vanish when he goes inside the machine.

He winds up on an unknown planet, naked and without any of his equipment. There to meet him is a very human alien, a young woman whose only differences from a human female are the fact that she has no thumbs, and that her skin is an odd color. She's one of the slaves that another group of aliens kidnap from all over, including Earth. (Our hero is very lucky that the slavers aren't around to grab him. They happen to be at some kind of celebration, getting drunk.)

With the help of the woman, the protagonist gets away from the slave facility, facing the challenge of surviving on a strange, alien world. Things get really weird when he reaches a mountain, which is really an ancient, all-powerful being, able to take on any form it pleases.


The ball of light the mountain uses to communicate with the man.

After many adventures, and falling in love with the alien woman, the hero battles the slavers against seemingly impossible odds, using only simple weapons like rocks and wooden spears. Can he possibly defeat the Bad Guys, return to Earth, and win the Girl? Well, maybe with a little help from a deus ex machina, in the form of a god-like mountain-being.


Chaos at the slave camp.

You might be able to tell from my tone that I found it hard to take this wild adventure seriously, although it's certainly not intended as a comedy. The nonstop mishaps that the hero faces kept me reading, even if I didn't believe a second of it. The mountain, alien, god, or whatever you want to call it, is the most interesting character. Although it reminds me of the lead novella in some ways, it's got a much more optimistic mood.

Three stars.

Worth Waiting For?

So, did the delay in receiving this issue have any effect on my reaction to it? Did I have high expectations that it failed to meet? Or, did I assume that the extra month would sour me on the magazine, so that I wouldn't be able to fully enjoy it?

None of the above, really. This is a typical issue. A couple of decent, if not great, adventure yarns; a couple of good stories; a couple of poor stories; and a so-so article. Good enough for half a buck, I'd say.

I guess biding my time until it appeared paid off. It's better than, say, waiting around for somebody who never shows up.

[14th September, 1964] Hold Off The Execution (Doctor Who: The Reign Of Terror [Part 2]))


By Jessica Holmes

Put away the guillotine, we don’t need to be chopping anyone's head off for boring me. Not today, at least. The Reign Of Terror doesn’t magically turn into an oeuvre of magnificence at the halfway mark, but it did turn out decent in the end.

THE TYRANT OF FRANCE

Apologies everyone, my television set is playing up again, so there’s a chance that I’ll have missed some details in this episode, but hopefully it won’t be anything too important.

So, in the previous episode of The Reign Of Terror the Doctor got himself a pretty fantastic hat and managed to blag his way into a meeting with Robespierre, so they can talk about how fantastic his hat is. Or lists of people whose heads have been chopped off, but I think the hat should take precedence.

Lemaitre gives Robespierre the execution list.

So, how does this meeting go? Entertainingly. Not one to hold his tongue, the Doctor immediately starts debating a hostile and suspicious Robespierre on the benefits of his Reign Of Terror. I rather admire his guts. Come to think of it, it’d be pretty funny to see the Doctor popping about through time to give tyrants a good scolding. As for Robespierre, he’s showing signs of paranoia, convinced that even his allies are plotting his downfall. Well, Max, if you are going to insist on guillotining everyone who so much as looks at you funny, what do you expect?

Oh, and we actually have a name for the other man, now. The one the Doctor came with. He’s called Lemaitre. Translates to ‘the master’. Quite a good name for a villain, I’d say.

Back at the maison, Susan is still feeling poorly, the poor love, but she’s brought some brandy, so she’ll feel even worse in a second! According to Barbara, a short while earlier Susan kicked off all her clothes and was found shivering upstairs, which sounds to me like she’s suffering from hypothermia. Leon is wary of calling a physician for her (after all, we only know one Doctor we can trust), but after some thought he decides to risk it for her. Good old Leon.

Jules carrying a body through the window

Outside the maison, Jules and Jean (did I introduce Jean last time? I can’t recall. Introducing: Jean) are smuggling a body into the house. Just when we start to worry what sort of people Barbara and Susan have fallen in with, they pull back the tarp covering the body to reveal that it’s Ian!

At the prison, Lemaitre says the Doctor made a good impression on Robespierre. I’m not sure I’d say the same, but if he says so. The Doctor tries to make his excuses and leave, but Lemaitre insists that the Doctor stay, and calls for the jailor to arrange accommodations.
Well, I hope he enjoyed his little game of dress-up.

Remember the treacherous tailor? He’s still here, and now he’s got Lemaitre all to himself. The Doctor tries once more to leave while Lemaitre is busy, but the jailor pulls a gun on him. If he were to let the Doctor go, it’d be his neck on the line.

Dear, dear, Doctor. You’re in trouble now!

Back at the maison, Ian is coming around, and joyfully reunites with Barbara. Does anybody else think they might be a little more than friends, or is that just me? Now conscious, Ian takes the opportunity to ask Jules if he knows the Englishman his dead cellmate told him to look for, one ‘James Stirling’. Unfortunately, Jules hasn’t a clue, which is a shame, because Ian had gone looking for Jules in the hope that he would. Unfortunately for Ian’s poor head, Jules found him first, and, thinking him an enemy spy, clobbered him. That man is going to have serious brain damage before long.

Jules posits that ‘James Stirling’ is an alias, though if anyone knows him, it’d probably be Leon. In fact, for all they know Leon might actually be James. It’s easy to pretend to be English when everyone in France speaks in Recieved Pronunciation. Not that I’m complaining. I find using English regional accents to be vastly preferable to forcing the actors to attempt a dreadful foreign accent. A lot of films and programs do it and it drives me up the wall.

Sadly, Susan is getting worse, and the physician won’t come, so Barbara has no choice but to take Susan herself. The physician takes a bit too much of an interest in how Susan came to be ill, but eventually decides that a spot of blood-letting should do the trick, to the womens’ horror. I mean, what were they expecting? Panadol?

Susan reclines on a couch as Barbara watches over her.

They’d probably do better to just make her some hot water with honey and lemon.

See, here’s the problem with time travel to the past: lots of diseases that the modern immune system doesn’t know what to do with. I hope the Doctor got Susan her vaccinations when they landed on Earth. Imagine if she were to come down with smallpox, or TB!

It seems that Leon was right to be wary about trusting a physician, because the medical man, on the pretence of fetching leeches (lovely), heads up to the prison and turns the women in! Having locked the door behind him, the women are sitting ducks when the soldiers come to arrest them.

Well, with them free, there wasn’t anyone for the rest of the characters to make a daring rescue of, was there?

Ian begins to worry that they’ve been a while, but he has a meeting with Leon to keep, so he heads off in hope of tracking down the mysterious James Stirling.

Back in chains, Susan’s chucked into a cell, and Barbara is marched off for questioning…to none other than the Doctor!

Ian arrives at the crypt of an abandoned church, which is a cool place for a clandestine meeting if I ever saw one. The set’s rather good too. There’s a better attempt at the illusion of size here than we’ve seen in a lot of other sets on this programme.

The set of the crypt, with the background painted to create the illusion of depth.

However, while we’re all admiring the set, a bunch of soldiers turn up. Ian’s walked right into a trap.

Leon, you scoundrel!

Leon points a gun at Ian, offscreen

A BARGAIN OF NECESSITY

The following week, my television continued to act up, rendering visible perhaps one frame in twenty. I tried hitting the top of my tv with a mallet, but it didn’t seem to do anything. Ah, well.

Ian captured, Barbara and Susan in chains once more — things don’t look too good for our companions. So, it’s the perfect time for Barbara to have a nice catch-up with the Doctor. Lemaitre tries to listen in, but the jailor arrives to summon him to a meeting with Robespierre. Lemaitre reluctantly agrees to go, but orders that Susan must be kept in the prison on pain of death. He knows something.

Barbara and the Doctor plot her escape.

With Lemaitre gone, the Doctor reveals his cunning plan to spring Barbara from prison. Get ready. It’s very complicated. She’s going to walk out the front door.

See? Complicated. But it’s actually brilliant, wait and see.

The Doctor spins a tale to the jailor that Barbara is actually deeply involved in the grand conspiracy against Robespierre. So deeply involved, in fact, that she knows the names of every traitor in France! Of course, she’d rather die than give them up, but the Doctor and the jailor are clever, aren’t they? What they’ll do, is they’ll let her escape, and then, when she runs off to her traitor friends, they can follow her, and arrest the whole lot!

Now, a person slightly smarter than a guinea pig would probably be able to see through this plan, but that’s part of why I love it. I love the Doctor’s ability to talk utter nonsense with such authority that it sounds perfectly reasonable.

Down in the crypt, Leon’s giving Ian the trademark villain speech, revealing that he’s always been loyal to the revolution. He thinks that Ian’s in on the English spy ring, so demands that Ian tell him the truth.

Well, you asked for it, Leon.

For reasons nobody could ever hope to fathom, Leon doesn’t believe Ian when he says he’s from the year 1963, and his soldiers are on the point of shooting Ian when Jules arrives, having come back to the maison to find it empty.

A fight ensues, and it might have been exciting, but my television chose that moment to stop showing the picture, leaving me with a bit of generic fight music and the occasional grunt, ending with a gunshot, which I assume hit Leon, because the next time I can actually see the scene, Leon’s dead and Jules is Ian’s knight in frilly armour.

Back at the prison, things become amusing when the jailor asks the Doctor why he isn’t tailing Barbara, and the Doctor retorts asking HIM why HE wasn’t doing it. Whoopsie-daisy! Piling on, the Doctor actually tries the same trick on the jailor again, but to let Susan out this time. As funny as it would have been had he agreed, it’d be a bit convenient, so of course the jailor refuses. He’s not going to risk his neck!

Lemaitre goes to meet Robespierre, who fears that the Convention will turn against him at their next meeting, on the 27th of July… 1794. Hands up, who knows their history?

(Is it still paranoia if they really are all out to get you?)

Now it’s time for Historical Nitpicking With Jessica, where I answer the historical questions that literally nobody asked.

It’s about the date of the meeting: July 27, 1794. This is absolutely correct…by the Gregorian calendar. However, during the Reign Of Terror, France was not using this calendar. They were on the French Republican calendar, so for them, the date was 9 Thermidor. Weird, I know. What’s even weirder is that aside from the timing of the start of the year (the autumn equinox rather than the summer solstice), the French Republican calendar is identical to the ancient Egyptian calendar. Just thought that was interesting.

I would call the French calendar and their decimal time ridiculous, but then I remember how English money works, and how we measure distance, and how an English mile is actually how far Charles II could run in a three-legged race before falling over (or something), so perhaps I shouldn’t throw stones.

Ian makes it back safely, and meets up with Barbara, who is also safe now. They think the Doctor’s antics are pretty funny. And they are. It rather spoils the mood, however, once Jules tells Barbara what happened with Leon. To the men’s surprise, Barbara feels quite sad for him. To them, he was a traitor, but to the Revolution, he’d have been a hero. After all, the Revolution did have a point. Perhaps too sharp a point, but a point all the same.

See, Barbara gets it. History is a bit more nuanced when you look at it from the outside. There’s a difference between believing that a republic would be better for everyone than a monarchy, and wanting to chop the heads off anyone who looks a bit too posh.

Back at the prison, the Doctor lets Susan out, but Lemaitre catches them as they try to escape, and the scene following is a bit awkward, with a noticeable line flub from Hartnell (not for the first time, but I usually give him a pass as it works for the character), and a strange bit of awkward silence which made me wonder if somebody forgot their line or wasn’t on their mark.

Lemaitre reveals to the Doctor what he knows

Once we’re off smoothly again, Lemaitre shows the Doctor the ring the tailor gave him. Lemaitre’s quite a bit smarter than the poor jailor. He’s known full well that the Doctor wasn’t who he claimed to be, and strongly suspected his relation to Susan, which is why he was determined to hold on to her. And now he has iron-clad leverage over the Doctor.

Back at the house, Jules explains to Ian and Barbara that he’s not actually of the aristocracy, he’s just against those who would rule by fear, which is fair enough, I’d say.

As he finishes up the explanation, along comes the Doctor… with Lemaitre.

The Doctor brings Lemaitre to Jules, Barbara and Ian

PRISONERS OF CONCIERGERIE

This one is actually genuinely good. Even more so because my television started working again.

Dun dun duuuun, Lemaitre has arrived to crash the party, sweeping in and explaining at everyone just how clever and cunning he is. So clever and cunning is he, in fact… that he is James Stirling.

That did catch me off guard, I have to admit. It certainly explains the accent.

Lemaitre/Stirling says that he can get safe passage back to England for everyone as soon as his business in France is concluded, and asks Ian what was the message he needed to deliver. Ian wracks his brain to remember it, and they piece together that it was a coded message giving away the location of important meeting which Paul Barras will be attending.

Time for a little espionage. They go to the inn, and pose as staff. Ian dusts off his acting skills and I absolutely love it. He goes to the trouble of putting on a fake voice and everything. I think somebody may have been part of the drama club at Coal Hill!

Barbara and Ian in disguise as innkeepers.

Barbara, on the other hand, is as awkward as anything, and simply asks Barras how many people he’s expecting to meet. Fortunately he doesn’t suspect anything, and tells her it’s just the one, and here he comes now.

It’s Napoleon Bonaparte.

Yes. Really.

A cool reveal? Yes. Ahistorical? Absolutely.

I will leave it to you to decide which is the more important factor in your mind. At any rate, it’s little more than a historical cameo, as he’s only in the episode for as long as it takes to promise Barras his support in return for a role as Consul, and then he swans off to make his own history.

Napoleon Bonaparte conspires with Paul Barras to bring an end to Robespierre and his Reign Of Terror

I hope we get an episode centred on Napoleon some time in the future. Well, I could write a list of historical figures I’d like to see an episode based on, but it’d take me all night.

Stirling is aghast to learn of Napoleon’s intentions, knowing that being Consul won’t be enough for a man like Napoleon. He’s absolutely right, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Or is there?
Well, no. We know that. The Doctor and Barbara know that. Nevertheless, Stirling rushes off to try and prevent the arrest of Robespierre.

Now, I do think this is a bit of a missed opportunity. Had the earlier episodes been better paced, I think this turn of events would have been interesting to devote more time to, with Stirling (and possibly the others) trying to save Robespierre as history stubbornly refuses to be knocked off course. Instead all we get is the same old stuff about history being unchangeable. I am simply intrigued as to how exactly that works. What would happen if, for example, I grabbed myself a musket, aimed it squarely at Napoleon’s head, and fired? Will some unknown law of Time make the gun misfire?

The Terror comes to an end as Robespierre is hauled into the prison, clutching his wounded jaw.

History progresses as it’s written. Robespierre is arrested, shot in the jaw, and hauled off for his appointment with Madame Guillotine, bringing the Reign of Terror to an end. The Doctor returns to the prison and orders that it be made ready for Robespierre and his allies, which of course means clearing out the old cells, which means freeing Susan!

I do think it’s a shame that Susan had nothing to do in this serial other than sit and wait to be rescued.

Back at the TARDIS, Ian, much like myself, wonders what would have happened if they had tried to contact Napoleon and tell him about the future. According to Susan, he’d have lost the information, or forgotten it. I suppose that means we aren’t likely to see time paradoxes and alternate timelines in Doctor Who.

Final Thoughts

All in all, I think the second half of this serial was much better and more interesting than the first half. However, I think that Robespierre should have been given more of a focus in this serial. Imagine watching him unravel as his Reign Of Terror comes to a close and the vultures start circling, not in just a couple of scenes, but gradually, over the course of the story. To add to that, I’d have liked to have seen more of the coup against him, beginning earlier in the story, rather than in the last episode. It was the most exciting bit of the plot and it had hardly any time devoted to it.

All the same, I think the serial did redeem itself. It’s not one I’m a big fan of, but it’s not quite as rage-inducing as that one with the stuck button, which makes it okay in my book.

And with that, this first series of Doctor Who comes to an end. I’ve certainly enjoyed the ride, and I hope you’ve been entertained by my ramblings. Though perhaps not as educational as was first intended, Doctor Who has turned out to be an interesting science fiction programme with a real charm to it, and it has tremendous potential in the future. The only limit is the imagination.

As the crew head off to their next adventure, we end on a rather nice quote which, to me, captures the essence of Doctor Who.

“Our lives are important, at least, to us. But as we see, so we learn … Our destiny is in the stars, so let’s go and search for it.”

Next Episode: Planet Of Giants

3 out of 5 stars

 


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[September 12, 1964] A Mysterious Affair of Style (October 1964 Amazing)

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by John Boston

Georgia on My Mind

We’ve just seen that standing up for civil rights in the South is a hazardous business from the murder of the civil rights workers Goodman, Chaney, and Schwerner.  It looks like merely being a Negro passing through the South can be just as hazardous, even in the service of one’s country. 

Lemuel Penn was an assistant superintendent in the Washington, D.C., school system, a decorated veteran of World War II, and a lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army Reserve.  There’s an annual summer training camp for reservists, and Colonel Penn went to Fort Benning, Georgia, for the occasion.  Driving back to Washington on July 11, Colonel Penn and two fellow reservists were noticed by members of the Ku Klux Klan, who followed them and killed Penn with two shotgun blasts.

The Klansmen were easily identified and brought to trial remarkably quickly—and acquitted last week by an all-white Georgia jury, according to the local custom. 

But the last word may remain to be spoken.  Days before the murder, the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which authorizes prosecution of such civil rights violations in federal court by federal authorities, was enacted.  Will it make a difference, before another Southern jury?  And will the federal government reconsider a practice that requires Negroes to travel to the South where their mere presence may provoke local racist whites to homicide?

The Issue at Hand

The October 1964 Amazing is fronted by an Ed Emshwiller cover that is, if anything, more hideous than the one on the July issue, though more capably rendered.  It looks like something a non-SF artist might do satirically for a mainstream magazine article trashing SF as silly and juvenile; more charitably, like a failed attempt at an Ace Double cover that Emshwiller found in the back of his closet.  I wonder if it was meant for one of A.E. van Vogt’s Null-A books.  The guy in the shiny white flying chair (notice how much it looks like he’s sitting on a toilet?) has a forehead high enough to accommodate an extra brain, or two or three.  The contrast between this and Emshwiller's much more sophisticated work for Fantasy and Science Fiction (for example, the April 1964 issue) is nothing short of . . . amazing.

Enigma From Tantalus (Part 1 of 2), by John Brunner

by Ed Emshwiller

The cover story is John Brunner’s Enigma from Tantalus, a two-part serial beginning in this issue, which per my practice I will read and review when it is complete.  Of course its mere presence is a source of trepidation.  Which Brunner are we getting?  The Brunner of the capable and intelligent novelets and novellas he has been publishing for years in the British SF magazines, some of which have been fixed up into fine books such as The Whole Man and Times Without Number?  Or the pretentiously befuddled Brunner of his last appearance here, February’s The Bridge to Azrael?  Stay tuned.  Stars, hold back your radiance.

In the Shadow of the Worm, by Neal Barrett, Jr.

Once past the serial, the major fiction item is In the Shadow of the Worm, a long novelet by the unevenly talented Neal Barrett, Jr.  The blurb telegraphs this one: “The Beautiful Lady . . . the Android who does but may not love her . . . the Mad Villain . . . the Unutterable Menace . . .  These are stock (almost laughing-stock) figures of science fiction.  Now Neal Barrett . . . takes them and makes them vibrant with suspense, with poetry, with meaning.”

Uh-oh.

Well, the bad news is that the story is in large part an exercise in bombastic oratory and striking of poses.  The mitigating news is that Barrett sort of brings it off, at least in its own terms.  The Lady Larrehne (am I the only one tired of a human future festooned with titles of nobility?), with her non-man Steifen, an artificial person programmed to serve and obey her, have crossed space in the good ship Gryphon (“Oh, fearsome and great she is!  A league and a half of terror and love from silver beak to spiked bronze tail—a’shimmer with golden scales from steel-ruffle neck to dragon wings; and each bright horny shield as wide as fifty humans high.”).

They are now on Balimann’s Moon, presided over by the Balimann (sic), which orbits around a planet called Slaughterhouse, which apparently produces meat for the rest of the galaxy, in the form of parodic engineered animals without much to them except the edible (“terrible blind herds stumbling toward death before birth could register on feeble brains”).  Slaughterhouse in turn is ruled by one Garahnell, who ostentatiously stages phony space battles for the visitors.

But why are Larrehne and Steifen here anyway?  To see the Worm, a/k/a the Eater of Worlds, an entity, force, effigy, or something between our galaxy and Andromeda and heading our way, and Balimann’s Moon is the best vantage point (“the last sprinkled mote of sand before the great sea begins”). 

They are also here to visit Slaughterhouse, though somehow that goal gets lost in the proceedings.  Everything is symbolic, of course, as the characters point out in case you missed it.  Says the Lady: “Is there a more cutting parody of the Good and Evil we have known back there, than Garahnell’s mock war—or the birth-death of Slaughterhouse?  When I think of the life we left—Oh, Steifen, it’s hard to say which nightmare mirrors the other!”

There’s more, much more, including but not limited to the fate of humanity, all saved from terminal tiresomeness by Barrett’s sure touch with his contrived and gaudy style.  This is not at all my cup of tea, but I must concede it’s well brewed.  Three stars.

Urned Reprieve, by Arthur Porges


by Robert Adragna

Next is the trivial and annoying Urned Reprieve by Arthur Porges, another contrived little story of Ensign Ruyter triumphing over adversity with very basic science.  Ruyter is about to be sacrificed by primitive aliens to their jealous god but saves himself with a demonstration of air pressure that wows the savages.  This is dreary enough to start, but Porges notes in passing that these aliens “were quite primitive, roughly on the level, it would seem, of the Red Indian tribes of Earth’s infancy.” Doesn’t this guy know anything besides junior high school science?  Maybe he should start with Edmund Wilson’s Apologies to the Iroquois (1960), about some “Red Indians” who were arguably more civilized than the people who subjugated them.  Two stars, grudgingly.

The Intruders, by Robert Rohrer


by Blair

The suddenly prolific Robert Rohrer is here, for the third consecutive issue, with The Intruders, an improvement over its predecessors.  It’s a jolly romp about a maniac with a meat cleaver trying to avoid and defeat his pursuers, from the maniac’s point of view, set in a spaceship rather than a haunted house (and being in the spaceship is what drove him mad—that’s what makes it science fiction and not just an updated rehash of Poe).  (That’s mostly a joke.  Sort of.) The hackneyed extremity of the plot is made tolerable and quite readable by an economical style that focuses on mundane physical detail and agreeably contrasts with its loony content.  This Rohrer is getting pretty good; if he sticks with it he may produce something memorable.  Three stars, towards the high end.

Demigod, by R. Bretnor


by Virgil Finlay

The last piece of fiction here is Demigod, by R(eginald) Bretnor, who has not previously appeared in Amazing, being most frequently found in Fantasy & Science Fiction, with the occasional foray into Harper’s, Esquire, Today’s Woman, and the like.  The Demigod is a giant golden-green humanoid who emerges from his spaceship at “the isle and port of Porquegnan, where Lucullus Sackbutt’s yacht, the Grand Eunuch, swam at anchor in an emerald sea and an atmosphere delicate with hints of duck and truffle and whispered music.”

We are quickly introduced, inter alia, to Mr. Sackbutt, the Mayor Hippolyte Ronchi, “a large, middleaged woman named, of all things, Mme. Bovary, who had come to deliver Lucullus Sackbutt’s more intimate and finer laundry,” Sackbutt’s “little friend,” Prince Alexei Alexandrovitch Tsetsedzedze, “known familiarly as Poupou . . . but who had nonetheless found his way to Lucullus Sackbutt via dress-designing and interior decorating.” Sackbutt has only just come from his bath, with “a pair of lithe, young, naked Nubian girls, whose duty it was to wash him, and who had long since learned that nothing at all exciting was going to happen to them while at work,” while Prince Poupou read to Sackbutt from his projected biography of Sackbutt, patron of the fine arts and arbiter of taste.

So Sackbutt appears to be a stereotyped homosexual, and the story continues in its arch and mannered fashion to parody what was undoubtedly a parody to begin with.  The Demigod approaches Sackbutt and stares at him, from which Sackbutt infers that he has been selected to parade for this first alien visitor all the achievements of Earthly high culture, while the rest of the world looks on, until the Demigod decides he has had enough and carries Sackbutt off to a summary end.  Bretnor is adept enough at this artificial style (reminiscent of an overstimulated P.G. Wodehouse) to keep it amusingly readable enough, as long as one can ignore the fact that the whole thing is an exercise in exploiting the last prejudice that seems to be acceptable everywhere.  Two stars for execution discounted for silliness, a burnt-out cinder for moral stature.

Jack Williamson: Four-Way Pioneer, by Sam Moskowitz

An almost welcome note of the prosaic is sounded by Sam Moskowitz, with his SF Profile, Jack Williamson: Four-Way Pioneer.  This one begins by quoting a New York Times review stating that Williamson’s writing is “only slightly above that of comic strip adventure”—a review which netted Williamson a job writing a comic strip, Beyond Mars in the New York Daily News Sunday edition.  This may not be the credential Mr. Williamson would most like to see heralded.

Aside from this promotion by pratfall, Moskowitz recounts Williamson’s childhood in the wilds, or at least the farmlands, of Mexico and the Arizona Territory, his discovery of this very magazine in 1927, his success at selling A. Merritt pastiches to it starting in 1928, and his development as a more versatile writer in the 1930s.  Moskowitz describes Williamson’s 1939 novella The Crucible of Power as “a giant step towards believability in science fiction” (read it and draw your own conclusions).  As usual, Moskowitz focuses on Williamson’s material of the ‘20s and ‘30s, with less emphasis on the ‘40s and none at all on his post-1950 work (two novels on his own not worked up from earlier writings, plus one in collaboration with James Gunn and four in collaboration with Frederik Pohl, and a dozen-plus short stories); his sole comment is “But science fiction stories continue to trickle out.”

Oh, the four ways?  “He is an author who pioneered superior characterization in a field almost barren of it; new realism in the presentation of human motivation; scientific rationalization of supernatural concepts; and exploitation of the untapped story potentials of anti-matter.” You might think becoming an academic with a specialty in science fiction was one, too.  Anyway, three stars; this one is a little meatier than Moskowitz’s usual.

Summing Up

Who would have thought it?  An issue of Amazing in which the merit, such as it is, of most of the fiction contents turns on the authors’ mastery of style: in Barrett’s and Bretnor’s cases, their ability to maintain a grossly artificial style consistently enough to keep the reader going, as opposed to laughing at their lapses, and in Rohrer’s, his ability to recount bizarre and grotesque events in the plainest and most matter-of-fact language so the story will not seem as far around the bend as its protagonist.  Well, you take what you can get with this hit-or-miss magazine.


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55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction