Tag Archives: 1963

Magazine

[August 8, 1963] Great Escapes (September 1963 IF)

8 Comments


by Gideon Marcus

In the United States, the Fourth of July is perhaps our biggest holiday, celebrating our declaration of independence from our former motherland, Great Britain.  It was our escape from taxation without representation, from capricious colonial government, and from forced tea-drinking. 

This latest Independence Day saw the premiere of one of the biggest and best summer blockbusters ever made, the appropriately themed The Great Escape.  Directed by John Sturges, and starring James Garner, Richard Attenborough, and Steve McQueen, it is the vaguely true-to-life story of a prison break from a Nazi Stalag.  Exciting, moving, and beautifully done, it's sure to be a contender for an Oscar or three.  Watch it.

The September 1963 Worlds of IF Science Fiction continues the escape motif.  Not just in the normal sense in that it provides an escape from reality, but rather, each of its stories involves an escape of some kind. 

Was this a deliberate editorial choice by Fred Pohl or simply a happy circumstance?  Either way, it makes for an enjoyable issue that is better than the sum of its parts.

The Expendables, by A. E. van Vogt

Van Vogt, one of space opera's most prominent lights, has been away from the SF scene for fourteen years.  So it's quite a scoop for Pohl to have gotten this latest piece, depicting the final stages of a generation ship's journey.  A mutiny against the authoritarian captaincy is brewing as the ship nears its destination, and when it turns out the planet intended for colonization is already inhabited, all-out rebellion ensues.

This is a tale that combines two of my favorite topics, first contact and generation ships, and I'm a big fan of Van Vogt.  However, I am disappointed to report that Expendables just doesn't hang well together.  The science is shaky, the dialogue rather implausible, and the characters a bit too gullible.  There is also a queer, slapdash quality to the writing.  I suspect this was written in a hurry; a do-over could turn it into a fine story, indeed.  Two stars as is.

The Time of Cold, by Mary Carlson

Curt, a spacewrecked man trapped without water on a parched world has little hope of surviving long enough to be rescued.  Xen is an amorphous hot-blooded being, native to the planet, desperate for more warmth.  Both are menaced by liquid scorpions, beasts who kill in an instant and don't care what world you come from.  Are the two aliens the key to each other's survival?

There is an art to telling a story from alternating perspectives such that each scene moves the story forward without repetition.  Mary Carlson, a young lady from South Dakota, mastered that art in her first published piece.  It's a beautiful, uplifting tale.  Bravo.  Five stars.

Manners and Customs of the Thrid, by Murray Leinster

In Thrid culture, the Governor can never be wrong, and woe be to one who disputes him.  Jorgenson, a representative of the Rim Star Trading Corp., dares to stand up for his native business partner, Ganti, whose wife the Governor would have for his own.  Both are exiled for life to a barren rock in the middle of the ocean, escape from which would daunt even the fellows who broke out of Alcatraz. 

But, escape they do, and the method is quite ingenious — and logical given the central tenet of Thrid society.  Writing-wise, it's a rather workmanlike piece, but the thrilling bits more than compensate.  Three stars.

Science on a Shoestring – Or Less , by Theodore Sturgeon

In this month's science column, Sturgeon extols the merits of UNESCO's book, Sourcebook for Science Teaching.  I love Ted Sturgeon, don't get me wrong, but sometimes his article topics just don't merit the space they take up.  Two stars.

The Reefs of Space (Part 2 of 3), by Jack Williamson, and Frederik Pohl

In the future, Earth is a dystopia under the stifling computerized control of the Machine and its inscrutable Plan.  Those who resist the Plan, or for whom the Machine can make no use, are condemned to the Body Bank for reclamation.  The last installment, in which state criminal Steve Ryeland was forced by the Machine to develop a reactionless drive, only mentioned the Body Banks in passing.  Part 2 deals almost exclusively with them.

In the midst of his work, Ryeland, accused of plotting a wave of disasters around the world, is exiled to Cuba.  The tropical paradise has been turned into a kind of leper colony, except limbs and organs are not lost to disease, but instead, according to the demands of the citizens for whom parts are harvested.  Over time, the residents lose more and more of themselves until there is not enough to sustain life.  One might survive as long as six years, if you can call a limbless, mouthless existence survival.  Of course, the tranquilizing drugs they put in the food and water keep you from minding too much…

Fred Pohl already proved he could write compelling horror in A Plague of Pythons.  This latest installment of The Reefs of Space would do fine as a stand-alone story (and I have to wonder if it was originally intended as such).  The tale of Ryeland's attempt to escape an escape-proof prison is gripping, even if the trappings of the greater story aren't so much.  Four stars.

The Course of Logic, by Lester del Rey

A mated pair of parasitic aliens, who use other creatures as their hosts, have been trapped on a bleak world for eons.  Their home galaxy has been destroyed, and the only compatible beasts they've found lack the fine motor skills to construct spaceships for escape — or any other kind of technology.  So they are delighted when they come across a pair of humans, for our form is absolutely perfect for their needs.  Will these puppet masters, once ensconced in our guise, escape their planetary prison and become unstoppable conquerors?

Lester has been too long from our ranks, but it looks like he's back to stay, given his recent record of publication.  This is a grim piece but with a splendid sting in its tail.  I also particularly enjoyed this bit of evolutionary teleology, said by the dominant female to her mate:

"The larger, stronger and more intelligent form is always female.  How else could it care for its young?  It needs ability for a whole family, while the male needs only enough for itself.  The laws of evolution are logical or we wouldn't have evolved at all."

And before you scoff, recall the hyenas and the bees.  Four stars.

The Customs Lounge, by E. A. Proulx

This vignette appears to be a Tale from the White Hart, but it's really a story of human cleverness under alien domination.  It is apparently the first piece by Proulx, "a folk singing star-gazing man from upstate New York," and while it's nothing special, it's also not bad.  Three stars.

Threlkeld's Daughter, by James Bell

Last up, we have a tale not of escape, but of entrapment.  A six-legged, tailed tree-creature from Alpha Centauri takes on comely human female form and travels to Earth to secure a male homo sapiens specimen for study.  But with the human body comes human hormones and emotions, and love creates its own entrapments. 

It's a cute little piece, more like something I'd find in F&SF.  Three stars.

Thus ends a fine issue of an improving magazine.  If you ever find yourself imprisoned, in gaol real or virtual, one of these stories might give you the inspiration to break out.  Or, at the very least, make a few hours of your sentence more pleasant.

8 Comments Leave A Comment
Comics

[Aug. 6, 1963] X marks the comic (X-Men, Avengers, Sgt. Fury, and more from Marvel)

9 Comments


by Gideon Marcus

The 30s and 40s are remembered as a kind of comics Golden Age.  They featured the birth of so many familiar faces including National Comics' iconic line-up: Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman.  We also saw the creation of big names like Captain America, the Human Torch, and the Sub-Mariner, the last two of which have been recently resurrected.

In fact, if the prior age be gilded, then our current era of comics resurgence must be some kind of Silver Age.  Just look at performance of the successor to Atlas Comics, that titan of the industry that had died back in 1957.  Leaping from obscurity just a few short years ago, Marvel Comics has doubled down on its suite of superheroes, launching three new comic books in just the last few months. 

The most exciting of them is The X-Men, featuring a team of teenage mutants under the tutelage of Professor Charles Xavier, at once the most powerful telepath in the world, and also the first handicapped superhero (that I know of). 

Let's meet the cast, shall we?  We've got Slim Summers ("Cyclops"), who projects ruby blasts from his eyes; Bobby Drake ("Ice Man"), the kid of the group, who creates ice at will; Hank McCoy ("Beast"), possessed of tremendous agility and oversized hands and feet; Warren Worthington III ("Angel"), a winged member of the upper crust (financially and evolutionarily); and Jean Grey ("Marvel Girl"), a telekinetic.  Why Bobby is a Man and the older Jean is a Girl, I haven't quite figured out. 

Of course, they immediately develop a nemesis, the bombastic Magneto, master of magnetism.

The X-Men is a development of two Marvel themes: you've got the quirky, imperfect teenager motif that has proven so successful with Spiderman, and the fun team dynamic of The Fantastic Four.  I have to say, this new comic has really bowled me over, and I'm looking forward to more of the same.

Speaking of teams, Marvel has lumped together several of its heavy hitters into a single superhero mag, The Avengers.  Another four guys and a gal combo, it features Thor, Iron Man, the Hulk, Ant-Man, and Wasp.  It's an unlikely group — without a father figure like Professor X or the family dynamic of the Fantastic Four, I have to wonder how stable this phenomenon will be.

The third new mag features another team of heroes, neither mutated or otherwise superpowered.  But there's nothing mundane about Sgt. Fury and his Howling Commandoes, Marvel's answer to the TV show, Combat!.

As with the television production, Fury depicts a squad fighting on the Western Front on the eve of and after D-Day.  Sgt. Nick Fury is a bit more one-note than the nuanced Sgt. Saunders on TV, but this is a comic book, after all…

Here's the gang, and here's what they do:

In other Marvel news, it looks like Spiderman has got a new enemy, The Sandman:

And it's not all expansion for Marvel.  Its venerable line of girls' comics lost a member a few months ago.  Love Romances ended with its 106th issue.

On the other hand, the two Milly the Model mags continue, as well as Kathy, and the two Patsy books (Patsy and Patsy and Hedy)

I wonder if the superhero mags will ever take a clue from the girl mags and start soliciting for fashion designs.  Hulk could use a new pair of pants, after all.

Thanks to this deluge of new comics, my subscription list now includes a half dozen titles.  So for the foreseeable future (or, at least until Jason Sacks convinces me that I'm all wet), you can be sure that I'll "Make Mine Marvel!"

9 Comments Leave A Comment
Book

[August 4, 1963] Little Boxes Made of Ticky-Tacky: Carr's The Burning Court

4 Comments


by Victoria Lucas

Those who think that the title of The Burning Court refers to a physical court in the sense of a courtyard or an ordinary courtroom haven't read the book.  In fact, there is no particular enclosed space that can be more than peripheral to it, with the exceptions of a train car, a bedroom and a crypt.

It's really a quite interesting tale just from the point of view of the controversy surrounding it.  Can a detective story have elements of the supernatural?  Can a mystery also be horror fiction?  Or, as one of the main characters opines,

"Ghosts?  No; I doubt it very much.  We've managed to struggle along for a very long time without producing any ghosts.  We've been too cursed respectable.  You can't imagine a respectable ghost; it may be a credit to the family, but it's an insult to guests."

The sort of society pictured in this odd short novel/long short story is just exactly one that is based on respectability, things that are "a credit to the family," and not insulting guests (at least not to their faces).

But what kind of book is it?  I'm not going to put it in a little box.  Or even a big one, no matter whether they're made of ticky-tacky or marble.  Malvina Reynolds may be referring to look-alike townhouses (with a hint of hasty construction) in Daly City, California, but there are boxes in the head as well, and I don't want to call them into service.  They're flimsy and inadequate.

I first heard of this book when a friend sent me a tape of the radio program based on it.  My friend is an old-time-radio buff and collects this sort of thing.  This one intrigued him, because he couldn't figure out what it is.  Knowing that I'm a mystery fan, he sent it to me.  When I sent it back I could not ease his perplexity, because I don't know in what genre it should belong, and I really don't want to confine this work to any of those little boxes in peoples' heads .

The mystery is first presented as a puzzle: a series of apparently unrelated events that must fit together somehow but don't make sense, as protagonist Edward Stevens sees it.  In fact, there is some misdirection as Stevens is introduced as a man who has had a lot to do with courtyards.  The first puzzling clues are the nervousness of the head of the editorial department in which Stevens is employed in Philadelphia, a photograph, and Stevens's wife's plea that he not "pay any attention" to their neighbor who wants to see him.

Well into the first chapter (entitled "Indictment"), I had the impression that a gothic novel had been set down in a 20th-century railroad smoking car, and had followed Stevens home.

It is not until some pages later that we are given a single hint of the nature of the "court" in the title.  I think I cannot tell you more about that without spoiling the unfolding of the story as well as the ending.  There are milestones as each puzzle piece fits into another, and the picture begins to hazily take shape, which is the main story arc.

That is the mystery part.  The horror part proceeds in jerks as horror movies do.  There is a scare, then a lull and life returns to normal for awhile, then another scare, and each heart-racing event ratchets up the levels of suspicion, fear, uncertainty, doubt of one's own perceptions, and anxiety, with suspense running through all.

Braiding the two threads of this story together are the ordinary trappings of life in upper-middle-class (or lower-upper-class) 1937 America.  Yes, the book is that old.  However, a movie was made based on it last year by a European collaborative group (France and Italy, among others, with French-speaking actors).  Now that I've read the book I'm hoping that the movie (due in September in New York City) will get here soon to my neighborhood foreign-movie theater and I can see the latest incarnation of the story after catching it in radio and printed form.

After reading the book I can say that the radio program did violence to it.  In shortening it to a half-hour format the script writers deleted and did a write-around of much of the explication, conflated some of the major characters, and cut out other characters and subplots, including a second murder!  The major cut, however, was done when they completely changed the ending.  The ending, mind you, is the part of the book to which most critics object the most.  Not only is it a denial and dismissal of the detective-novel solution of the previous chapters ("It's the easiest way out.  We're all looking for easy ways, aren't we?").  It is the most macabre and supernatural bit of the book–which is probably why the writers bypassed it with a bit of voiceover ghostliness that reminds me of nothing so much as the old "The Shadow" programs I used to listen to when I was a child.

I recommend this book to anyone who doesn't mind suspense, jolts of unease, gothic-novel horrors, and mystery-like puzzles, and who does like surprises, piquant phrasing, and entertaining writing.  (I only have one nit-picking complaint: Carr uses "antimacassar" for "doily"–antimacassars are for seat backs, not tables–and compounds the error by misusing the word more than once.  I love words, you see, and it's sort of like seeing an animal abused to observe a misuse.  I find myself wincing.)

If the movie that came out last year comes to town I'll review it in light of the radio program and the book — since everyone says that one should read the book before seeing the movie.

4 Comments Leave A Comment
Book

[August 2, 1963] Sinister Geometry (Daniel F. Galouye's Lords of the Psychon)

5 Comments


by Rosemary Benton

Whenever we read the newspaper, listen to the radio or watch Walter Cronkite's trustworthy complexion on CBS, we are looking for answers to some very basic but very important questions that will help us break down and normalize that which we don't understand. In much of science fiction, that which we don't understand comes hurtling at us because some dramatic change and the utterly unearthly have collided. In equal parts fear and curiosity the characters react, but ultimately and almost unerringly, logical thinking and scientific reasoning are then able to parse out what the characters should do in reply.

But what if the shift in humanity's daily life is beyond explanation, bordering on paranormal? And what if the alien force that is bringing about that change is so far removed from known biology that it appears extra-dimensional? Daniel F. Galouye's new book, Lords of the Psychon, takes the reader to that terrifying reality with an invader that is unnervingly simple – a large, floating, metallic sphere – and their mission which can be surmised as absorbing compatible human minds and letting the rest die in the grip of mind shredding madness.

As the last aging remnants of humanity squeak out an agrarian living in sporadic villages, the remaining ranks of the US military are trying everything to disrupt the geometric cities made of “pink stuff" that are growing like tumors all over the Earth. There is little to nothing known about the aliens save for odd ritualistic behavior, namely The Selection, The Chase and Horror Day.

The free moving agents of these alien city structures, fittingly named Spheres, are regarded with terror. Not only will they defend themselves with bolt of electricity if intercepted, but they are seen as the harbingers of death. Seemingly at random, a person will be selected by a Sphere for absorption. The Sphere will proceed to hover slowly after them until it has driven them to exhaustion or death. What happens once the victim passes through the floating orb and reemerges a corpse is unknown. If the Spheres, the expanding cities, and the annual occurrence of Horror Day can not be stopped then humanity will be completely hunted down or driven mad within a few decades. But how do you fight an enemy that seems to be capable of warping the very fabric of reality?

Like H. P. Lovecraft, Galouye's signature style for science fiction leans heavily on pitting humans against a threat that can weaponize the evolutionarily lacking perceptions of humanity. In his previous novel Dark Universe (1961), it is reasoned that an underground-dwelling humanity would have no use for sight and instead perfect their sense of smell, touch and hearing to compensate for the loss of sight. Predators, both animal and competing branches of humanity with evolutionarily adventitious infrared perception, could gain an upper hand on distracted, sightless humans. But a human who had plenty of experience listening, feeling and tasting the air of the world around them could adapt to better survive.

In both Lords of the Psychon, as well as the short story that spawned it, The City of Force (Galaxy, 1959), a humanity that hasn't the innate mindset and will to manipulate the structural substance called “pink stuff" or “psychon" is powerless to stop an entity that is so far evolved beyond physical form that it can traverse space and dimensions. It is via self administered meditation and strict perception training that this difficult task can be achieved, and while not everyone who manipulates the psychon does so exceptionally well, their alternative option is too dire to leave much of a choice. 

This story progression through learning and self education is an aspect of Lords of the Psychon that is very true to Galouye's style. In any of his writing Galouye does not initially arm his characters with much innate experience and knowledge. In the very first chapter of Lords of the Psychon we follow Jeff Maddox and his team into an alien “City of Force" on a self described suicide run to desperately try and do something to damage the aliens. The language and brevity of sentence structure only serves to drive home the desperation of the situation and how little they know compared to the knowledge they will need to again:

“On the Eve of Horror Day, 1993, Geoffrey Maddox, Captain, USA, lead a suicide detail from Headquarters, Third Army."

Some authors would have their protagonists win the day through cleverness, observation, and scientific evidence, and to be sure Jeff Maddox and the young lady, Eddie, do employ this formula for success against their alien invader. But it is due to not just cleverness, but an unmatched, almost panicked dash to save the human species that allows Galouye's protagonists to methodically gather information so that they may teach themselves how to stave off extinction. Galouye's message is clear – adapt or perish.

His progress in emotionally manipulating his readers is far reaching, even in his characterization. Jess Maddox makes a much more likable, empathetic and individualized protagonist over Jared from Dark Universe. Likewise, Eddie is a much more logic-driven, quirky but intense personality than Jared's betrothed, Della. But it is that specific flavor of almost-defeat and near panic that Daniel F. Galouye is cultivating which is making his work consistently worth reading. It thrums beneath Lords of the Psychon and I hope to see it again in his next book. As an example of the author's improvement as a writer, Lords of the Psychon shows a bright future for Galouye, especially if he keeps up with the speed at which he is currently writing.

Four and a half stars.

5 Comments Leave A Comment
Magazine

[July 30, 1963] Inoffensive Pact (August 1963 Analog)

10 Comments

[Don't forget to vote for the Hugos — the deadline is here!]


by Gideon Marcus

Across the globe, under the medieval spires of the Kremlin, three ambassadors and their teams vigorously discussed the terms of what may be the precursor to Peace in Our Time (where have we heard that before?)

It all started in 1961, when the Soviet Union began testing gigantic atomic bombs in the air and on the Siberian tundra after a three year moratorium.  America followed suit with a series of tests in the Pacific and high in the atmosphere.  These provided a wonderful show for residents of Hawaii but also made planning for Mercury shots a bit more tricky.

Then, in October 1962, the two superpowers came to the brink of war over the Soviet Union's placement of nuclear missiles in Cuba, just 90 miles off the Florida cloast.  Nikita blinked when Jack glared, and the Doomsday Clock, fluttering at seven minutes to midnight, did not tick.

Nevertheless, it was a close shave, and since then, great strides have been taken to ensure the ongoing survival of our species.  For instance, a teletype "hotline" is being established between Washington D.C. and Moscow.  If things heat up, the President and the Premier can be chatting (via text) in short order, no need to work through ambassadors.

More significantly, W. Averell Harriman, a former U.S. ambassador to the Soviet Union; Lord Hailsham of Britain; and Soviet Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko have just put together the first Partial Test Ban Treaty.  It will establish a moratorium on atomic testing in the oceans, in the air, above ground, and in space.  Enforcement of the ban will be done by satellite, which can detect the flash of a nuclear detonation.

Why are underground tests excluded from the ban?  Because we can't easily verify when they've happened, and the Russians don't want us prying too deeply into their affairs.  That said, it is a first step, and one that should greatly reduce atmospheric and orbital radiation — a boon that cannot be understated.  With the ban's ratification (hopefully within the next couple of months), the Free and Communist Worlds may inch permanently back from the potential of war.

Meanwhile, in the United States, editor John W. Campbell appears to have done his utmost not to distract from the unquestionably big news described above.  Indeed, the August 1963 Analog is so unremarkable that it might well have not even been published.  I suppose I prefer good real news to good science fiction, but on the other hand, I pay for my subscription to Analog. 

Well… maybe not for long.  See for yourself.

Change, by R. A. J. Phillips

For once, the "Science Fact" article is neither silly nor dry as dust.  This month's piece is on the Eskimo people of the Arctic, the consequences of their interactions with the industrialized peoples to the south, and the lessons we might carry over to our first contact with aboriginal aliens.

Pretty interesting, actually.  Three stars.

The Hate Disease, by Murray Leinster

I adore the stories of Dr. Calhoun of the interstellar "Med Service" and his cute little monkey/cat, Murgatroyd.  So enchanted have I been by his universe that I have unabashedly cribbed some aspects of it (like the jump drive and the independent nature of the various worlds) for my own stories. 

Thus, it is with great sadness that I must levy a two-star rating on this piece, whose premise involves a contagion that had infected nearly half of a planet's population.  It's just poorly put together, difficult to follow, and the chemical basis for the plague is both abstruse and ridiculous.

"To Invade New York … ", by Irwin Lewis

A mild professor believes he has discovered a plot to paralyze the Big Apple by seizing control of its traffic lights.  This first tale from Irwin Lewis is a shaggy dog bar story without a lot of there there.  Two stars.

Patriot, by Frank A. Javor

An extraterrestrial invasion of Earth is repulsed when one brave man tricks the conquering enemy into raising the flag of a terran nation (presumably the United States).  The hook is that the fellow wends his way into the alien camp by wearing a deliberately mismatched enemy uniform — but it is never explained how that accomplishes his goal.  I read it twice and couldn't figure it out.  It was a silly story, too.  Two stars.

Controlled Experiment, by Arthur Porges

The prolific (if not terrific) Arthur Porges returns with an unnecessary sequel to The Topper, depicting another magical hoax and its scientific explanation.  Forgettable.  Two stars.

The Ethical Engineer (Part 2 of 2), by Harry Harrison

At last we come to what you all will probably (as I did) turn to first: the conclusion to the second novel in the Deathworld series.  When last we left Jason dinAlt, interstellar gambler and lately resident of the dangerous world of Pyrrus, he had been enslaved by the D'sertanoj of a nearby primitive planet.  These desert-dwellers know how to mine petroleum, which they trade to the people of the country, Appsala, in exchange for caroj — steam powered battle wagons.  When dinAlt reveals that he can produce caroj himself, he is promoted to "employee" status and given run of the place.  He eventually escapes with his native companion, Ijale, as well as the obnoxiously moralistic Micah, who kidnapped dinAlt in the first place.  Adventures ensue.

The original Deathworld was a minor masterpiece, a parable about letting go of destructive hatred, suffused with a message on the importance of environmentalism.  It was also a cracking good read.  This new piece is just a yarn, one almost as clunky as the caroj dinAlt works on.  The theme is that universal morality is anything but, and ethics must be tailored to the society for which they are developed. 

I don't disagree, but the passages that deal with ethics are long-winded and poorly integrated; Harrison never matches the message to the underlying carrier wave.  The result reads as if the author had digested a bunch of recent Heinlein before putting finger to typewriter.

The second Deathworld is not bad, just disappointing, particularly given the brilliance of the first story.  Three stars.

It's time to crunch the numbers.  Firstly, I note that the readers of Analog found that Norman Spinrad's first story, the exquisite The Last of the Romany, was the worst story of that issue.  Well, I hope they're happy now.  This latest issue ranks a lousy 2.4 stars, easily at the bottom of the pack this month. 

By comparison, F&SF got a lackluster 2.7 stars, and all the other mags finished above water: Fantastic (with the best story, the Leiber), New Worlds, and Galaxy all got 3.2; Amazing scored an atypical 3.5.  Editor of Fantastic and Amazing, Cele Goldsmith, is the winner this month for certain.

Women fared less well otherwise — out of 39 pieces of fiction (lumping together the various vignettes in this month's Fantastic), only two were written by women — one a short poem co-written with her husband.  Yes, folks.  It's getting worse.

Maybe the SF editors have signed a Partial Woman Ban Treaty?

10 Comments Leave A Comment
Fashion, music, politics, sports

[July 28, 1963] Africa: From End to End A Beautiful Garden; A Swan Dive into Vogue’s New Grand Tour

5 Comments

[P.S.  Did you take our super short survey yet?  There could be free beer/coffee in it for you!]


by Gwyn Conaway


Seydou Keïta, a Malian photographer, is known for his portraiture, particularly of women that simultaneously become a part of their environment and assume command of it.

The newest Vogue offers a refreshing departure from the traditional venues of Paris, London, and New York.  Its pages have let me peek into the lives of people in places I’d never thought much about. For this summer’s Vogue embarks on a grand tour of Africa. It offers glimpses of Nigeria and Uganda, worlds wholly different from and beyond our own.  Much like when Alice follows the White Rabbit to Wonderland, I’ve found myself both in awe of this new adventure and questioning my place within it.

The words of Mary Roblee Henry struck a lasting chord with me when she wrote “Africa, in fact, has everything – except a frame of reference.” As of fifty years ago, the African continent, with the exception of the Empire of Ethiopia, was entirely colonized by Europe. As a result, our American eyes have always seen Africa as an extension of our own desire for adventure, not a continent with its own rich point of view.


Marchesa Sieuwke Bisleti on her farm Marula in the Kenyan highlands with two leopard cubs. She wears a grass green linen Serengeti shirt, khaki slacks, and earthy brown leather boots.

In addition to touring Nigeria and Uganda, this issue of Vogue documents the daily life of Marchesa Sieuwke Bisleti in Kenya, where she cares for many exotic animals on her farm, Marula. Western women in their 30s crave her practical elegance. She embodies the windswept beauty of a woman who has seen adventure and now lives comfortably within that frame of mind.

As romantic as this notion is, our sense of adventure may be a double-edged sword. On one hand, wearing bush jackets, Gurkha shorts, and khaki freesuits gives us a taste of discovering those distant, ancient, untouched places. On the other hand, it revives imperialist sentiments just as the continent Churchill once called “from end to end one beautiful garden” gains its independence.


Above: Abubakar Tafawa Balewa on leave with his children on his farm in northern Nigeria. Below: Finance Minister Okotie-Eboh and his wife, both wearing Iro skirts. Okotie-Eboh was also an Itsekiri chief near the Benin River.

After devouring every page of Vogue, I turned to current events. I needed more than Western fantasies to quench my curiosity. Luckily, Queen Elizabeth II has been busy on the continent, working closely with the soon-to-be Federal Republic of Nigeria to recall the British protectorate.

I was struck by the big personalities of Prime Minister Abubakar Tafawa Balewa and Finance Minister Festus Okotie-Eboh. How had I never paid attention to Nigerian politics before! Although, in the picture above, Tafawa Balewa is sitting in a casual setting, far from the pomp and circumstance of the capitol, he still exudes authority, as if he belongs to the country as much as it belongs to him. Perhaps the simple, large, billowing shapes of his agbada emphasize his assumption of power.

Okotie-Eboh, however, truly uses Nigerian fashion and tradition to make a grand statement. He and his wife in the image above are breathtaking, adorned in many yards of traditional Nigerian textiles, peacock feathers, and coral beads. While part of me is giddy for Okotie-Eboh’s bold choices, I’m also concerned for the burgeoning republic’s image. Do his people see the grandeur as a statement of pride, or do they see indulgence and excess? This is a question I have no answer to for the moment, but leaves me feeling uneasy for the future.


Nigerian women standing for a portrait. Note that the woman in the center is wearing an English dress suit while the ladies on either side are wearing the traditional iro (skirt), buba (shirt), and gele (headwrap)

Beyond Nigeria’s politicians, her people possess a breathtaking strength of character. More so than in any fashion line or runway show, Nigerians’ personal power and charisma is interwoven into their textiles and fashion. In the clamour to define the modern Nigerian identity, traditional and European aesthetics are caught in a fiery dance for domination. 

The younger generation in particular is visually torn between their new independence and the allure of western style. Men here combined sports jackets of the finest linens and tweeds with their white or brightly colored, airy agbadas and Oxford brogues. Girls wear western polka dotted blouses with their iros and beaded jewelry.



Photography by J.D. ‘Okhai Ojeikere

Photographers like J.D. ‘Okhai Ojeikere and Seydou Keïta explore this in their portraiture. One moment, Ojeikere will photograph wealthy Nigerians dressed head-to-toe as fashionable young British women, donning pumps, sundresses, and pearl earrings. The next, he’ll snap a photo of two men leaning against an enviable Rambler Ambassador parked on rich Nigerian red earth roads, one in a dress shirt and tie, the other in a traditional agbada, with a backdrop of Coca Cola trucks, stressing the country’s identity crisis.


Sade Thomas-Fahm sources local Nigerian textiles to create her own take on European fashions.

Considering the events in Nigeria right now, I was shocked to learn how difficult it has been for these artists to blaze their creative trails. Take Sade Thomas-Fahm, for example. She’s an up-and-coming fashion designer from Nigeria, and the first woman to open her own boutique in the country. Her designs combine tradition and modernism, reinventing British silhouettes with Nigerian textiles. Although it’s a perfect marriage, the public is a hard sell. It seems to me that the European influence over the African continent will be strong for many years to come.

Circling back to Mary Roblee Henry, I now find myself wary of style icons such as Marchesa Sieuwke Bisleti after exploring some of Africa’s “missing” frame of reference (which I now know is not so much “missing” as covered by a veil of European colonialism). Although I can’t help but feel the call to adventure, the romance of bush jackets and Gurkha shorts comes with a dash of bitterness now. Instead, I think I’ll find my practical elegance elsewhere, and look to lift up the voices of those like Sade Thomas-Fahm.

Now there is a true adventure.

Special Thanks to Nigerian Nostalgia Project for images from their archives.




5 Comments Leave A Comment
Magazine

[July 26, 1963] Ups and Downs… New Worlds, August 1963]

4 Comments

[P.S.  Did you take our super short survey yet?  There could be free beer/coffee in it for you!]


by Mark Yon

The coldness of Winter now seems a long way off. Can it be that I was almost up to my neck in snow a mere five months ago? Looking at my small garden, in full bloom, it is hard to believe the weather heralded a possible New Ice Age, and now we’re sweltering.

Such warmer weather (and an impending summer vacation!) leads me to more positive thoughts. This may also help with the reading of a new issue of New Worlds!

There seem to be some changes this month, beginning with the cover.

While a new cover is to be appreciated, it seems to be a change for expediency rather than for any artistic merit, though, at least you can tell from this that New Worlds is a science-fiction magazine, I found the new style made the type difficult to read, which rather defeats the cover’s purpose of attracting readers.

This attempt at change is also reflected in the story titles, which are now, annoyingly, all written in lower case letters.

Speaking For Myself, by Mr. Robert Presslie

In his attempt to discuss “What is wrong with Science Fiction today?” , regular New Worlds writer and now guest editor Mr. Presslie tries to relate to s-f from the perspective of the world-outside-genre by looking at a current British newspaper. His point? There the most heated debate of the day is not the importance of Telstar’s satellite successor, Relay; instead many pages are dedicated to an injury sustained by an English cricketer.

This then leads to the conclusion that the wonders of science are of little interest to the layperson when given more mundane, more human things to relate to, and further ,that the same can be said for Science Fiction. It’s a fair point, but nothing really new. I’m still of the view that, for many s-f readers, it is exactly because the genre does not appeal to the masses that makes s-f attractive.

To the stories themselves.

To Conquer Chaos (Part 1 of 3) , by Mr. John Brunner

The return of a New Worlds stalwart after a gap (at least under his own name) is to be heralded, particularly as Mr. Brunner seems to be making waves across the Atlantic and, like his contemporaries Mr. Aldiss and Mr. J.G. Ballard, is appearing less over here in Britain.

In Chaos, Mr. Brunner describes life on the edge of the ‘Barrenland’, some sort of post-apocalyptic wasteland that seems to be the border between Order and Chaos. Though the plot reads like a Fantasy, the account made me think it was rather Analog-esque, with all the trappings of a once-technological civilization in decay. 

To Conquer Chaos is a good solid tale, a bit slow to start but likable in its execution, competent without being flashy or deliberately obtuse. One of the more memorable serials of late, even if it is really nothing particularly new. Mr. Michael Moorcock has trod similar ground recently with his Elric Fantasy stories and across the pond Mr. Poul Anderson and others have been telling such stories for a while now.  4 out of 5 so far.

The Lonely City, by Mr. Lee Harding

This is predominantly a mood piece about the passage of time and the consequential technological obsolescence. Whilst the story is full of implausibilities (why does the main character bother turning up on a boat, for example?) it does create a certain mood. Reminded me a little of Mr. J.G. Ballard’s The Drowned World, which I suspect Mr. Harding was trying to emulate. Here the title tells us all we need to know, really. 

I think I quite liked this one by the end. 3 out of 5.

Foreign Body, by Mr. David Rome

I see that Mr. Rome is appearing in the US magazines this month as well, as fellow Traveller John Boston has pointed out in his review of this month’s Amazing. This one’s an attempt at a lighter story, but clearly still trying to curry favour with a known (ie: science-fiction-loving) audience – it's about an author whose royalty cheques are put into his letter box, yet they never seem to arrive. It’s a nice idea but the story doesn’t know how to end. Any tale that ends with an editor commenting on the crummyness of a submitted story is asking for trouble. I much preferred the story in Amazing .

3 out of 5.

Natural Defense, by Mr. P.F. Woods

Here’s another author who seems to have spent his time in the other magazines recently. This is Mr. P.F. Woods’s first publication in New Worlds since July last year. Natural Defense starts well as a First Contact story, but the solution to the problem that this unusual meeting creates is, frankly, laughable. 2 out of 5.

The Disposal Unit Man, by Mr. David Alexander

Another dud. Mr. Alexander’s story is an overexcited piece based on a flimsy idea, namely that in the future city residents are often culled by, you guessed it, The Disposal Unit Man. Future social mobility in action, but uncompellingly presented.  2 out of 5.

The Shtarman, by Mr. John Ashcroft.

Just reading the title of this novelette made me grimace at what I expected would be another weak attempt at humour. I was pleased to find that it wasn’t. Admittedly, the beginning wasn’t great – the first few pages made me believe that I’d wandered into some grotesque James Joyce-ian stereotype – but once the plot settled, this tale of alien telepathy did well to place a science-fictional theme logically within a modern setting. For that reason, it reminded me of those recent bestsellers by Mr. John Wyndham. That title needs changing, though!  4 out of 5.

Book Reviews, by Mr. Leslie Flood and Mr John Carnell.

The section seems to be much bigger this month. In this issue’s selection, short story collections The 4th Dimensional Nightmare by Mr. J.G. Ballard, Best SF 5 edited by Mr. Edmund Crispin, and the ‘remarkable’ Tales of Ten Worlds by Mr. Arthur C. Clarke are all reviewed by Mr. Flood.

American paperbacks of Mr. Clarke’s A Fall of Moondust, Star Surgeon by Mr. James White and a slew of books by Mr. Sam Moskowitz are reviewed by Mr. Carnell.

The book reviews, both for the British and the International releases, show me that there’s much out there to enjoy, even when the actual contents of this magazine pale by comparison.

Despite comments in last month’s issue saying that there would be a report of The First International S-F Film Festival , by Mr. John Carnell this month, clearly it was not written in time. Perhaps Mr. Carnell was too busy writing book reviews or having too good a time in Trieste to bother to write a report – or it was felt that it wasn’t worth the effort. 

On balance, the August issue of New Worlds is more good than bad – I liked the Brunner serial, and the Ashcroft novelette was a pleasant surprise – but some of the other material was dire.

As much as the magazine is to be applauded for pushing the boundaries of the genre, there is still too much new material that fails to be both original and good. Mr. Carnell has lofty ambitions but seems to lack the money or the quality of material to meet the challenge. I do feel that without significant revenue (in other words, subscriptions), the magazine is struggling to purchase quality stories that would make a new reader curious or maintain the interest of an old regular.

How much longer can this go on?




4 Comments Leave A Comment
Magazine

[July 24, 1963] The Numbers Game (August 1963 Fantastic)

4 Comments

[Did you meet us at Comic Con?  Read this to see what we’re all about!]


by Victoria Silverwolf

Those of us living in the United States had to memorize a new number this month.  In addition to our telephone numbers, Social Security numbers, and so on, we now have Zone Improvement Plan numbers, also known as ZIP Codes.  These numbers help the United States Post Office Department direct the mail to its proper destination.  We used to be able to use one or two digit Postal Zone numbers, and only for big cities.  Now every area in the nation has a ZIP Code.  The Post Office sent a postcard to every mailing address in the country –seventy-two million, more or less — listing its five digit ZIP Code. 

They even created a mascot, a cartoon mail carrier named Mr. Zip.

Other numbers in the news this month were 15 (as in the X-15 hypersonic rocket-powered aircraft), 90 (as in Flight 90 of this vehicle), and 100 (as in 100 kilometers above the surface of the Earth, considered to be place where outer space begins.) Just a few days ago, Joseph A. Walker, pilot for the X-15's Flight 90, reached an altitude of 107.8 kilometers and a speed of nearly six thousand kilometers per hour.  That makes him the first person to reach outer space in an airplane, and America's first civilian astronaut.

In popular music, of course, the only number that really matters is one.  Earlier this month, a rhythm and blues group called The Essex reached Number One on the American pop music charts with their catchy, if hardly innovative, tune Easier Said Than Done.  The most unusual thing about the musicians who make up The Essex is that all of them are active members of the United States Marine Corps.

Currently, the top position is held by the vocal duo Jan and Dean, with Surf City.  This is the first song in the relatively new genre of surf music to reach Number One.  Speaking of numbers, this tune begins with a numerical lyric that may raise some eyebrows.
Two girls for every boy

With all these numbers spinning around in my head, I thought I could get away from them for a while and enjoy the latest issue of Fantastic.  It turns out that the simple question How many stories are in this issue? requires some tricky mathematics.

Bazaar of the Bizarre, by Fritz Leiber

Vernon Kramer's colorful cover art accurately portrays the lead story.  The cover blurb, however, is unfair to the Gray Mouser's companion Fafhrd, who actually plays a more active role in their latest adventure.

Two strange sorcerers, who often send the pair on weird and dangerous quests, summon them to a nighttime marketplace in the city of Lankhmar.  The Gray Mouser arrives early.  Having a little time to kill, he investigates a new shop that appears out of nowhere.  It is full of wonderful things.  Of particular interest to the lusty little fellow are the alluring young women within cages hanging from the ceiling.

Meanwhile, his giant friend Fafhrd meets with the wizards.  It seems that an evil force from another universe threatens the land of Nehwon.  They provide him with magical objects and send him to destroy the invader.  What follows is a deadly battle against sinister foes.

No one is better at writing sword-and-sorcery than Fritz Leiber.  Every line begs to be read aloud, the better to appreciate its poetic rhythm and vivid imagery.  Exotic details make the setting seem very real.  The author adds just the right of touch of wit to spice up his story.  The climactic battle is thrilling.  Five stars.

The Red Tape Yonder, by Vance Simonds

A government official dies and tries to make his way to Heaven.  He encounters multiple obstacles.  This is a heavy-handed satire of bureaucracy.  A few lines suggest that the author is a loyal supporter of the G.O.P., so I hope my left-leaning tendencies don't interfere with my ability to judge this story on its merits.  Two stars.

The Grass, More Green, by W. Lee Tomerlin

A henpecked husband receives several miniatures from a friend who feels sorry for him.  The fellow becomes obsessed with his little world, locking himself in his basement.  What happens isn't very surprising.  This story reminded me of Rod Serling's nostalgic tales of men yearning to escape their disappointing lives.  (In particular, the Twilight Zone episodes Walking Distance and A Stop at Willoughby.) Unfortunately, the author doesn't quite have the delicate touch required for this theme.  The man's wife is a caricature of a selfish, nagging woman.  Two stars.

A Hoax in Time (Part 3 of 3), by Keith Laumer

The three protagonists of this novel – a wealthy heir, a carnival worker, and an artificial woman, formed by a computer with immense powers – are in a parallel reality, created by their journey through time.  The heir undergoes an intense training program, which transforms him from a useless, spoiled weakling into a man with extraordinary mental and physical skills.  While on an outdoor test of his abilities, he discovers a plot to overthrow the utopian society he and his companions brought into being. 

The story moves quickly, particularly at the end.  The author relies on a deus ex machina — almost literally, in this case — to tie everything up.  If the first third of this serial was a comic romp, and the second third a philosophical essay, the final third is a fast-paced adventure story.  Although entertaining, the disparate elements of the story never quite come together.  Three stars.

Two More Tales for the Horrid at Heart, by Brad Steiger

Here's where the counting of stories gets complicated.  Two tiny works of fiction appear under the title above, but they also have their own titles. 

Sacrifice Play features an archeologist who discovers an inscription at the ruins of Ankor Wat.  They promise fabulous wealth in exchange for a sacrifice to a demon.  As you might imagine, this is a bad idea.

In One Too Many, a married couple sneaks vodka into the fruit punch of a mysterious fellow who never drinks alcohol.  They soon find out the reason for his abstinence.

Both stories feature twist endings.  The first one is obvious, and the second one is arbitrary.  Two stars.

The Devil in Hollywood, by Dale Clark

This month's reprint comes from the August 8, 1936 issue of Argosy.  A little over a decade ago, it was reprinted in Avon Fantasy Reader. 

Dale Clark (which Fantastic misspells as Clarke in the table of contents and title page of the story, although Sam Moskowitz spells it correctly in his introduction) is a pseudonym used by a writer with the much more interesting name of Ronal Sherwood Kayser.  He writes mostly crime fiction, although I don't think he's published anything for a while.  He also wrote a few fantasy stories for markets such as Weird Tales.

A movie director convinces an unemployed cameraman and an aspiring actress to work on a film he is producing on his own.  The director himself will play the lead role.  The plot of the movie, which reminds me of the early German talkie Der Blaue Engel, involves a man who becomes involved with a heartless dancer.  He makes a pact with Satan in order to acquire sufficient riches to purchase her affection.  This story-within-the-story turns out to be all too real.

This tale of terror is written in a realistic manner, probably due to the author's experience with hardboiled fiction.  The description of the moviemaking industry is very convincing, making the supernatural aspects seem believable.  Four stars.

Sometimes I Get So Happy, by David R. Bunch

A writer that some readers love to hate returns to the dystopian world of Moderan, whose inhabitants have bodies made mostly of metal.  The narrator recalls his former life, when he was made entirely of flesh.  He remembers a failed romance.  The main appeal of this story is the author's unique style.  Three stars.

Fables of the Past & Future, by Thomas M. Disch

Once again, I have to scratch my head and wonder how I should count this trio of vignettes.  The title listed above only appears in the table of contents.  Unlike the pair of tales by Brad Steiger, each of these stories has its own introduction by editor Cele Goldsmith.

In The Return of the Medusae, the inhabitants of New York City turn to stone.  Those who remain alive treat them as statues, destroying them if they fail to please.  This story may be an allegory about the nature of art.

In Master Said-And-Done, a mute hunchback makes a deal with the Devil, damning himself by accepting three wishes.  This familiar theme leads to a twist ending.  Of the three so-called fables, this is the most traditional.

The Enchanted Prince, 1963 is a twisted fairy tale that combines medieval elements with modern touches.  An orphaned princess, raised by a cruel uncle, has to go to public school.  The reason this horrifies her has to do with a serious problem facing the United States today. 

The author writes well, but his sardonic tone will not appeal to all readers.  Three stars.

Cornie on the Walls, by Sydney van Scyoc

The magazine once more makes a spelling error, giving the author's first name as Sidney.  This may disguise the fact that she is a woman.  Since she has only published a small number of stories, mostly in Galaxy, perhaps we can forgive this mistake.

Her latest offering is a strange tale, which requires close reading.  An artist of the future lies motionless, connected to his house by machines.  He uses his mind to create pictures that appear on the walls of his home.  Students and tourists show up to observe them.  Against his will, distorted images of a dead woman, apparently his wife or lover, appear on the walls. 

This is a dark and disturbing story, often gruesome.  The author creates a compelling science fiction horror story.  Four stars.

Let's see; that makes six stories; one-third of a novel; two stories that might be one story; and three stories that might be one story, for a total of . . .

I better go study this crazy New Math that everybody's talking about.

[P.S.  Did you take our super short survey yet?  There could be free beer/coffee in it for you!]

4 Comments Leave A Comment
Book

[July 21, 1963] Ice Cold Spies

7 Comments

[Did you meet us at Comic Con?  Read this to see what we’re all about!]


By Ashley R. Pollard

I like to think I keep my finger on the pulse of society. For instance, despite being in my advanced youth, I've kept up on the popular music trends.

A new four piece beat combo calling themselves The Beatles, broke out onto the music scene late last year, and they've been making musical waves ever since. Their latest song, From Me To You, reached number one on the BBCs official singles chart in May.

A first for this new band, which seems to be a sign that they'll have legs. Whether they're significant in the greater scheme of things is hard for me to assess. If time travel were possible, I could no doubt confidently answer that question.

In real life, The Beatles are a reflection of the way society is changing and that previous standards of what's considered moral are being challenged. Now, just for a moment, imagine the members of this band as protagonists in a fiction novel. Their music might well be the center of a deliberate plot to undermine society and loosen its moral underpinnings.

It makes for an interesting thriller; however, I believe the real challenge will come not from those who seek to entertain, but from those who hold Western values in contempt.

It came as a shock when Kim Philby was revealed to be the third man of the notorious Burgess and Maclean spy ring, the group that passed state secrets from the UK to the USSR throughout World War 2 and into the early 1950s.

How many more spies are yet to be uncovered?  I suspect at least a couple more.  Hence the theme of spies for this month's column.

From the post war peace we have seen rumbles of cloak and dagger espionage develop into scandals that are rocking the assumptions of British society. Which is probably why I prefer reading science fiction. It feeds my imagination, rather than destroying my faith in my fellow human beings.

The latest revelations that began in March, of what's being called the Profumo affair, all center around a young woman called Christine Keeler. Her relationship with Yevgeny Ivanov, a Soviet naval attaché, and John, 5th Baron Profumo lie at the center of the scandal.

As a result, Profumo resigned from his post as the Secretary of State for War over allegations of the impropriety being a risk to national security. Then as I said, at the beginning of July, Kim Philby was revealed to be a Soviet spy.

The web of deceit that surrounds these events is unbelievable, as in you couldn't make this up in a story and have the reader believe you. It seems to me to that the world has become a much more complicated place to be alive in.

I marvel at how quickly SF concepts have gone mainstream. With so many SF ideas transitioning into mainstream fiction, one of the current trends I see is the fascination with the Cold War and spies. Who as I've alluded to earlier, are it seems to be found everywhere.

The result is the creation of a new genre that blend SF with contemporary thriller to create what is being called a "techno-thriller." A techno-thriller will use many of the ideas that were once purely science fictional, but set them within a conventional world that's recognizable as our own.

A new novel by Allister MacLean called Ice Station Zebra has caught the public's imagination. Whether this is as a result of all the stories of spies in the news I don't know. MacLean is well known as a writer of action-adventure stories, but this new novel sees him move into a new genre.

Maclean is not the first author to do so. Fellow Scottish writer Ian Stuart wrote a similar techno-thriller, which came out last year called, The Satan Bug.

Having read both books, I can say they share a lot stylistically. One would almost think that the authors know or corresponded with each other while they were writing their books.

Both pile on exciting incidents one after the other. Both have at their core a premise that would've been seen twenty-years ago as unbelievable science fictional nonsense. In The Satan Bug it's germ warfare and spies. In Ice Station Zebra it's reconnaissance footage from a space satellite, and spies.

Apart from the SF trappings ofThe Satan Bug, the story itself is a heady mix of action leading to a heist, and in and of itself not very science fictional. Ice Station Zebra on the other hand, manages to not only exploit its SF trappings, but do what all memorable SF stories do – open the reader's mind to the effects of technological change.

On this basis, I'd say MacLean is ahead of Stuart in exploiting what the new genre has to offer. For example, all of the key events in Ice Station Zebra have real world analogues:

The United States Navy's use of nuclear power submarines and their ability to travel under the Polar ice, and in particular the voyage under the ice by USS Skate to visit Ice Station Alpha in 1958.

The United States loss of the Corona satellite, Discoverer II in 1959, when it landed in neutral Spitzbergen. Possibly retrieved by the Soviet agents. Who knows?

Then there's Project Coldfeet, which saw American agents parachuting from a B17 Flying Fortress onto an abandoned Soviet ice station. And finally, MacLean mentions the atomic powered ice-breaker Lenin too. The first nuclear powered surface ship, and civilian vessel to see service.

MacLean uses these technological advances to weave a convincing picture of a world changing from the effects of technology and science. We can do things today that were once purely in the realm. of SF. Whether we like it or not, a lot of SF themes are going to become fodder for mainstream authors.

In fact, I'm going to go out on a limb and predict that techno-thrillers involving SF ideas and spies are going to become a big thing. We saw a hint of it in the film adaptation of Ian Fleming's Dr. No. I predict that the next James Bond film, From Russia With Love, coming this October, will further raise the public's interest in the melange of SF, thrillers, and spies.

[P.S.  Did you take our super short survey yet?  There could be free beer/coffee in it for you!]

7 Comments Leave A Comment
Magazine

[July 18, 1963] Several bad apples (August Fantasy and Science Fiction)

10 Comments

[Did you meet us at Comic Con?  Read this to see what we’re all about!]


by Gideon Marcus

I've discussed recently how this appears to be a revival period for science fiction what with two new magazines having been launched and the paperback industry on the rise.  I've also noted that, with the advent of Avram Davidson at the helm of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, the editorial course of that digest has…changed.  That venerable outlet has definitely doubled down on its commitment to the esoteric and the literary.

Has Davidson determined that success relies on making his magazine as distinct from all the others as possible?  Or do I have things backwards?  Perhaps the profusion of new magazines is a reaction to F&SF's new tack, sticking more closely to the mainstream of our genre.

All I can tell you is that the latest edition ain't that great, though, to be fair, a lot of that is due to the absolutely awful Heinlein dross that fills half of the August 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction.  See for yourself:

Turn Off the Sky, by Ray Nelson

Things start off strong with a tale of love and loss in a future of abundance, unemployment, and political apathy.  Abelard Rosenburg, a blue-painted, black-skinned, bearded Beatnik is unswervingly committed to the cause of pacifistic anarchy, "sharing his burden" of leaflets to whomever will read them.  Then he meets the beautiful Eurasian, Reva, last of the capitalists, who plies the oldest profession in a virtually moneyless society.  Passion and polemics ensue.

Beautifully illustrated by EMSH, Turn Off the Sky was apparently written in 1958.  Davidson held it in reserve for just the right moment.  In fact, the story has that broodingly whimsical quality that marked the work of Avram Davidson at his finest – if I didn't know Ray Nelson was a real person (something of a superfan), I'd suspect this was an old work Davidson snuck in under a pseudonym.  It certainly feels like something from the last decade, albeit a progressive work from that era.  I liked it a lot.  Four stars.

[Walter Breen of Berkeley tells me that this version is expurgated.  That means they took the sex out.  So much for F&SF being combined with the old Venture mag…]

Fred, by Calvin Demmon

This joke vignette is something you might enjoy telling at your next dinner party.  I smiled.  Four stars.

T-Formation, by Isaac Asimov

Things start to go downhill at the third-way mark.  The Good Doctor has been floundering a bit lately, and his latest piece on very big numbers is both abstruse and not particularly exciting.  I did appreciate his discussion of Mersenne numbers and the Fibonacci sequence, however.  Three stars.

Ubi Sunt? by R. H. Reis and Kathleen P. Reis

A couple of months back, Brian Aldiss wrote a poem about how modern astronomy has killed the Mars of Burroughs.  This new poem by the Reis' covers the same ground.  Three stars.

Glory Road (Part 2 of 3), by Robert A. Heinlein

Last month, I covered the beginning of a promising though uneven new Heinlein serial.  It began with a compelling account of one of the first veterans of our newest war (the one in Vietnam) and then declined (with some bright spots) into a fantasy novel that was a pale shadow of Poul Anderson's Three Hearts and Three Lions.  It ended with our hero and his heroine, both having pledged their love for each other, tilting lances at their former benefactor, who had thrown them out for not having sex with his family. 

Yes, you read that right.

How does this exciting lead-up resolve?  With a disappointing, "After resolving the situation, our heroes hung out in their benefactor's steam bath and chatted."  I'm not leaving anything out.  That is pretty much how Part 2 begins.  Then it meanders into a dialogue between the protagonists that reads as if Heinlein had a conversation with himself in the shower (before he'd entirely woken up), and someone transcribed the result.

It's bad.  It's unreadable.  It's the worst Heinlein I've ever read, and I'm a fan (though Podkayne of Mars and Stranger in a Strange Land sorely tested that status).  Truth be told, I gave up ten pages in.  Let me know if it gets better, but having skimmed some of the later pages out of morbid curiosity, it didn't look like it.

One star.

The Censors: A Sad Allegory, by T. P. Caravan

Another half-page joke piece.  Not as good as the first one.  Three stars.

Sweets to the Sweet, by Paul Jay Robbins

Undistinguished, middle-aged man in a loveless marriage resorts to the occult to make his mark.  In the course of his studies, he discovers he's really a fantastic creature of unknown lineage, requiring just the right spell to express his true form.

This first piece by newcomer Robbins is at once half-baked and overdone, very much a freshman work, and you'll see the conclusion a mile away.  Two stars.

So, once again, F&SF has oscillated into the negative end of the spectrum, and I can't help being tempted to echo the actions of a fellow reader, whose letter Davidson had the bravery to publish:

Lately, I and my friends have been somewhat disappointed with F&SF.  Mr. Davidson leaves something to be desired as an editor.  Therefore, I am declining your kind offer to renew my subscription to your magazine.

E. Gary Gygax, Chicago, Ill.

[P.S.  Did you take our super short survey yet?  There could be free beer/coffee in it for you!]

10 Comments Leave A Comment