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Magazine

[March 17, 1964] It's all Downhill(April 1964 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

A friend of mine inquired about an obscure science fiction story the other day.  She expressed surprise that I had, in fact, read it, and wondered what my criteria were for choosing my reading material.  I had to explain that I didn't have any: I read everything published as science fiction and/or fantasy. 

My friend found this refrain from judgment admirable.  I think it's just a form of insanity, particularly as it subjects me to frequent painful slogs.  For instance, this month's Fantasy and Science Fiction continues the magazine's (occasionally abated) slide into the kaka.  With the exception of a couple of pieces, it's bad.  Beyond bad — dull.

The Issue at Hand


Cover by Jack Gaughan illustrating Into the Shop

Fred One, by James Ransom

We start off on reasonably sound footing, with a pair of preternaturally intelligent laboratory rats named Freds One and Two.  One is a genius, the brains of the operation.  The other, though possessed of a high order of intelligence for his kind, is clearly a sidekick.  It is not made clear whether the rats gained their smarts as a result of human intervention, or if they've always been bright and endure testing for their own reasons.

Not much happens, really.  The author relies on the humor of the conceit, writing with deadly earnestness from the brain rat's point of view.  The result is a fun but somewhat inconsequential story.  It might make a good cartoon someday.

Three stars.

Beware of the Dog, by Gahan Wilson

Here's a one-page vignette that's far better than the monthly Feghoots (which have recently stopped being produced).  I found it funny enough to read to my daughter.

Four stars.

Sun Creation, by B. Traven

Author Traven is some kind of ethnologist, a German who transplanted himself to Mexico and now translates native creation myths.  Sun Creation is about a brave warrior who makes a new sun after the old one is devoured by evil spirits; it's as good (if not better) than any of the Greek myths I grew up with.  I don't know if it belongs in this magazine, but it was my favorite piece of the issue.

Four stars.

A Piece of the Action, by Isaac Asimov

And now begins our downward slide.  The Good Doctor, brilliant as he may be in chemistry, has oft confessed to having a blind spot when it comes to math.  This is especially unfortunate as regards to this month's article, in which he tries to explain quantum mechanics and the discovery of Planck's constant.

The problem is, there are just some things you can't explain without math.  I remember being bored and frustrated with high school physics; it wasn't until college, when they taught us the calculus-based stuff that things really clicked.  I went on to take quantum mechanics my junior year in college (as part of an astrophysics curriculum).  Let me tell you, it is a subject that is absolutely beautiful with the proper mathematical underpinning…and utterly meaningless without it.

Asimov's explanation of the subject, bereft of any math, doesn't work.  I was barely able to follow along thanks to my prior education.  I can't imagine any of his readers will be able to make much of it.

My first two-star score for Dr. A.

Welcome, Comrade, by Simon Bagley

Ugh continues.  Here's a piece about a top secret project to orbit a brainwashing satellite.  The goal is to instill every human on Earth with a love for and inability to sway from American values.  You know: capitalism, democracy, and dispute resolution by fisticuffs.  The title gives away the ending, which you'd have seen miles away anyhow. 

Decent beginning, Analog-esque middle (especially if Bagley'd played it straight rather than satire), numbskull predictable ending.

Two stars.

Urgent Message for Mr. Prosser, by J. P. Sellers

Night watchman, so British that the rendition seems farcical, receives breathless calls at 1 AM.  The caller urgently desires to warn Mr. Prosser, the watchman's boss, that he is in danger of being poisoned by his wife.  Our protagonist meets with the caller one night and finds that he is, in fact, a dead ringer for Mr. Prosser.

The odd situation is never explained, though my guess is the caller is some sort of phantom made real out of the real Prosser's paranoid fears.  In any event, this is another facile story that doesn't do much but mildly entertain and take up pages.  Three stars, I suppose.

Van Allen Belts, by Theodore L. Thomas

I'm not sure why Thomas has this column; it's never worth reading.  This one, like all his others, starts like a non-fiction article and ends with a science fictional tail-sting.  Thomas recommends that the electrical current created by the charged particles circling the Earth could power satellites.  This is nonsense — the sun's photons provide far more energy than the weak fields in orbit could ever provide.

One star and stop wasting my time.

The Old Man Lay Down, by Sonya Dorman

A poem by an author I generally look forward to.  I couldn't make heads or tails of it.  Explain it to me?  Two stars.

The Crazy Mathematician, by R. Underwood

Mad scientist finds a way to travel the universes by way of a shrinking machine.  He takes a handsome journalist along on his journeys, who spends the trip romancing the various versions of femininity he finds at the various stops. 

Complete fantasy and not worth your energy.  Two stars.

Fanzine Fanfaronade, by Terry Carr

The third in F&SF's series on fandom, it is neither as good as last month's (on conventions), nor as mediocre as the one from the month before (on fandom in general).

Three stars.

The Compleat Consumators, by Alan E. Nourse

The premise to this piece is that two lovers, ideally matched, will not just become one metaphorically, but will fuse into a single physical identity.  It's a lovely idea, but here it's played for horror, and abandoned right when it could have become interesting. 

Two stars.

Into the Shop, by Ron Goulart

Intelligent cop car mistakes everyone for a suspect, including its human partner, with fatal results.  Sub-par stuff, and doubly disappointing given Goulart's fine reputation.

Two stars.

Oreste, by Henry Shultz

And here we hit the bottom with a reprint from 1952(!) about an eight year old child and the odd uncle with whom he has a telepathic connection.  It seems young Titus is stealing the thoughts of Uncle Oreste, writing books and composing music on borrowed talent.

Or something.  There's a twist ending, but after 20+ pages of a story that could easily have fit into five, I was too bored to care.

One star.

Summing Up

Oh dear.  Didn't I pledge just last month to be a lot nicer in my reviews?  I guess there's something about reading eighty pages of muck that puts me in a bad mood.  Like Uncle Oreste, someone has stolen my beautiful F&SF (my favorite magazine until Editor Davidson showed up in '62), and replaced it with nonsense.

I do bring one piece of good news, though.  I've got prints of my performance at San Diego Comic Fest.  If you've got a sound-capable 8mm, let me know, and I'll Parcel Post it to you:

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TV

[March 15th, 1964] Maaaarco! (Doctor Who: Marco Polo, Parts 1 to 4)

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By Jessica Holmes

Welcome back, everyone. Get comfy, because this is our first proper historical episode. This means that I’m about to go off on about a dozen different tangents before we’re done.

(I'd like to note that I was having some difficulty with my television set whilst watching this episode, so if I seem to have missed anything, that's why, and I apologise in advance.)

I must admit that I didn't know much about the historical Marco Polo going in, so I've gone along with my notes to the library and examined the facts in order to compare them to the episode, and see if there are any slip-ups. Other than obviously no time travellers in a phone box turning up halfway in.

THE ROOF OF THE WORLD

In which the companions find themselves in the Himalayas, but soon discover they are not alone. Are they about to fall victim to the terrible Yeti? No, it's the Mongols! And who should be with them but Marco Polo himself.

With the TARDIS in need of repairs, Marco invites the companions to travel with him to Shang-Tu, where he plans to meet with the great Kublai Khan himself. Also accompanying him are Ping-Cho, a young lady of around Susan's age who is on her way to be married (!), and Tegana, a Mongol warlord.

Ping-Cho, as far as I can tell, is not a real historical figure; however Marco Polo did once escort a wedding party from China to Persia, so this could perhaps have been the inspiration for her character. Tegana isn’t real, either, though Marco Polo probably would have travelled with Mongols of high status like Tegana many times, being something of a favourite of the court.

We get our first dose of educational entertainment when not long into the episode, Barbara, being the history teacher, explains to Susan who Marco Polo is.

For anybody unaware, Marco Polo was one of the earliest European travellers to document his travels across Asia. In his lifetime, and for a good long time afterwards, many doubted the veracity of his claims, but we now know that much of what he wrote was indeed accurate. He spent many years at the court of the leader of the Mongols, Kublai Khan, grandson of the legendary Genghis Khan. Did you know that Genghis Khan simply means 'great leader'? That's how highly the Mongols thought of him, that even today we don't refer to him by his true name (which, for those curious, was Temujin).

Basically, Kublai Khan had a hell of a legacy to live up to. Genghis Khan may have carved out the empire, but going by the records, Kublai made it truly great. Fabulously rich, high education rates, freedom of religion. If you ignore the truly biblical death rate, the Mongol Empire was rather amazing. Still, a lot of people died to make it happen.


And their yurts look very cosy, too.

Not a minute later, Ian steps in to fulfil his role as a science teacher, when he explains to Marco Polo why the water is boiling at a lower temperature than it should: because they are at high altitude and the air pressure is low. Indeed, the low air pressure is also causing the Doctor to suffer from altitude sickness. He doesn’t go into the mechanics of why, but that’s perhaps beyond the scope of the show.

While certainly educational, and fulfilling the stated goal of Doctor Who as a programme, these little bits of educational exposition do feel a bit jarring and clunky, as if the show suddenly remembers it’s supposed to be edifying.

Travelling with Marco soon proves to be a bad idea when he informs the time travellers of his true intentions. He's going to present their TARDIS as a gift to the Khan in hopes that the Khan will see fit to release him from his service.

Oh, and to make matters worse, Tegana is planning to poison everyone and take the TARDIS for himself.

At this point it would be remiss of me not to bring up the casting of this serial. I have to say…I'm disappointed.

I am disappointed that more people of Chinese or Mongolian heritage were not cast in speaking roles. I know that casting actors of one ethnicity and putting them in heavy makeup to look like another ethnicity is pretty much par for the course in the current film and television industries. It’s not even unusual for the BBC. Just tune in during Saturday evening primetime and you’ll see what I mean.

I had hoped that Doctor Who might make more of an effort to cast authentically, but alas, most of the Asian characters in this serial are portrayed by actors of no Asian heritage. After all, isn’t speculative fiction supposed to go against the status quo, not uphold it? It’s a real missed opportunity.

Three and a half out of five.

THE SINGING SANDS

In this honestly pretty dull episode, the caravan winds its way across the Gobi desert, the Doctor spends the entire time sulking, the girls get lost in a sandstorm while tailing Tegana, who for some reason changes his mind about his plan. Rather than poisoning the water gourds, like he said he was going to do, he just slashes them open and hopes everyone will die of thirst.

Why?

I don't really know.

Two and a half out of five.

FIVE HUNDRED EYES

The caravan makes it to Tun-Huang and the plot starts getting interesting again.


Ping-Cho tells us a story.

We get a little bit of linguistic history, which is a bit of history I am fond of because I'm that sort of a person. Never end up alone with me at a party. When I start talking, I don't stop. You've probably read enough of my articles by now to have gathered that.

Anyway, it's in the telling of the tale of the hashshashin, though quite heavily mythologised. The hashshashin were an Islamic sect present from the eleventh to thirteenth centuries in what is today Iran, roughly speaking. They were known for fighting their enemies in a most unconventional way: with espionage, assassinations and psychological warfare. Oh, and for smoking a drug called hashish, which is a resin derived from the cannabis plant. Everyone who can spot the potential etymological link please raise your hands.

So, Ping-Cho regales the group with the tale of a wicked lord named Aladdin who lived in the mountains and gave his men a powerful drug which made them feel rather marvellous, and all they had to do for him in return was go out and kill people for him.

This is not exactly how it went but it's a very interesting group with an intricate history. Also I can't find out who this Aladdin is, or who he's meant to be.

Following the not-entirely-accurate history lesson (you should probably pick up a book on the Assassins, more formally known as the Nizari Ismailis; they were an fascinating bunch), Barbara tails him to the eponymous cave of five hundred eyes, where she gets caught, and also the budget suddenly runs out, for this ‘cave’ looks an awful lot like it’s made of plywood.


Tegana, on the hunt for the budget.

The girls are quick to notice Barbara's absence however, and rush to tell the Doctor, who, having had a marked change for the better in terms of personality following his brief absence, immediately sets out with them to find her. Could it be that the Doctor is learning to care about…other PEOPLE?

I think I might faint.

Three and a half out of five. 

THE WALL OF LIES

Marco learns what the others have been up to, and rushes to the cave. He is the one to save Barbara's life, but he's cross at her for putting herself in that position, and at the others for sneaking off without telling him. What's more, he doesn't believe that the girls were following Tegana at all, for Tegana denies having ever been to the cave before.

Tegana is has long been poisoning Marco's mind against our companions, and it seems to be taking root when he orders that the girls be separated. I really enjoyed the relationship between the girls. It feels very natural, and it's lovely to see Susan having a friend her own age. These girls are from different times and cultures entirely, but they get along like two peas in a pod.

The caravan pushes ever onward, and in the city of Sin-Ju (A city which I can’t seem to find out anything about. The name doesn’t come up anywhere that I can find.), Ping-Cho tries to prove to Marco that Tegana lied about having been to the cave before the group rescued Barbara, when he asked earlier about a passageway. It's important to note that this passageway is in fact a secret passageway, which is of course about ten times cooler than any other passageway.

Marco scoffs at her evidence and gets rather cross with her, trusting Tegana over her, even though Tegana might as well walk around with I AM UP TO NO GOOD tattooed on his forehead.
Speaking of Tegana, he's now plotting, yet again, to kill all the travellers. This guy is so rubbish at plotting it's unbelievable. I could have killed all these people five times over by the time we got to this point.

Don't believe me? Let’s go through them right now.

  1. Back in the desert, I could have poisoned the water gourds. You know. Like Tegana said he was going to do and then didn’t.
  2. I could have slashed the gourds open and taken the last entirely for myself, and ridden off to the oasis, there to relax and sip water while the others die. After all, this plan almost worked, only they managed to drink a bit of condensation from the TARDIS. That wouldn’t have been enough if they didn’t have that last water gourd.
  3. Assuming I didn't poison the water, I could have poisoned any of the meals. Then again, everyone does eat the same thing. Also then again, I could just go without one meal. Better hungry than dead, right?
  4. Tegana has a sword. A very sharp sword. Wait until everyone is asleep, tiptoe about, kill them one by one. Nobody gets a chance to fight back. Simple.
  5. The capture of Barbara was the ideal opportunity to bait the others into an ambush.

In conclusion, Tegana is absolutely rubbish at murder plots, and nobody should have me as a travelling companion. Especially not if you’re prone to snoring.

What he is good at, however, is getting Marco to turn against the Doctor and his companions, who become prisoners rather than guests.

Not that that’s going to stop Ian cutting his way out of captivity. With plates!

I was mildly disappointed when it turned out he meant literally cutting his way out of the tent with shards of ceramic, as opposed to taking on the guards armed with a set of fine china. But shock, horror, as Ian goes to subdue the guard, it turns out that someone's beaten him to it!

I'm not saying it was Tegana…
But it was definitely Tegana.
And if he can't manage to kill them next time, I'll just be embarrassed on his behalf.

CONCLUSION

So, that was the first half (ish) of Marco Polo! We’ve travelled a long, long way over these last few episodes.

One thing I do have to commend about this serial is its ambition. It's clear this is where most of the cost-cutting on previous episodes went, with far more detailed sets and some wonderful costumes. I also enjoyed our foray into real history, with real people, and I am really looking forward to meeting Kublai Khan. The Mongol Empire was a real marvel, and I am excited to see more of it. 

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Book, Magazine

[March 13, 1964] NOTHING MUCH TO SAY (the April 1964 Amazing)

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by John Boston

Within Narrow Constraints

The April 1964 issue of Amazing features a story titled Prisoner in Orbit and a cover (by Alex Schomburg) depicting a guy in a transparent bubble, scarcely taller than he, looking out into space with a disgruntled expression.  One might suspect that this depiction is overly literal, but no: it’s just what the author called for.  Or, more likely, the story was written around the cover, an old magazine practice that has undoubtedly survived to the present. 

Prisoner in Orbit, by Henry Slesar

The story is by Henry Slesar, a prolific contributor to Amazing in the late ‘50s and an occasional one since then, though that may be changing: he had a story in the last issue and has two in this one.  Here, humans are fighting against the Maks, the android army of the Indasians, and the protagonist and his soldier buddies have been captured and sent to a prison asteroid, run entirely by the Maks.  The story slips into the familiar groove of prisoner of war stories, with the captives scheming to escape and the Maks trying to keep them in line. 

This old plot is made science-fictional by the rigid mechanical thinking of the Maks, who, after being informed that they really don’t need to kill prisoners who misbehave, since a little solitary confinement will do just as well, devise a confinement so solitary it drives the miscreants crazy.  The cover thus justified, the story moves on to its real business: the war is over, won by the humans so conclusively that there’s no chain of command left to tell the authority-minded Maks to stand down and let the humans go.  How to persuade them? 

Clever solution, coming right up.  Slesar has served a rigorous and prolific apprenticeship in Ellery Queen’s, Alfred Hitchcock’s, and other crime fiction magazines as well as in sf, and it shows.  This is a highly professional if rather bloodless performance, with background deftly sketched in, the pace jazzed up with flashbacks and flash-forwards, in as smooth a style as you’ll find anywhere.  Three stars for slick execution, even if there’s no reason to remember the story once you’re done.

The Chair, by O.H. Leslie

Slesar’s other story, The Chair, appears under his pseudonym O.H. Leslie, familiar from the Ziff-Davis magazines but even more so to the readers of Alfred Hitchcock’s. It is a bit livelier than Prisoner in Orbit but just as formulaic, splitting the difference between early Galaxy satire and the cautionary mode of, say, Richard Matheson or Charles Beaumont when they are not writing outright fantasy. 

The eponymous Chair is an expensive commercial product that promises the ultimate in comfort and satisfaction of every need, at least if you get the extras like the Food-o-Mat and the Chem-o-Mat Plumbing Unit.  You can see where that is going, and go it does, with the journalist protagonist chronicling the decline of his friend who gets a Chair, until the manufacturer figures out the perfect way to silence him.  This one too is slickly executed, and enhanced by Slesar’s obvious familiarity with advertising style.  Also there’s more of a point to it and you might remember it a little longer than Prisoner in Orbit.  Three stars, a bit more lustrous than those for Prisoner.

The Other Inhabitant, by Edward W. Ludwig

Of course most of us presumably read sf for something other than slick execution.  But we might miss it when it’s not there, as illustrated by this story, in which Astro-Lieutenant Sam Harding, exploring “Alpha III” (a planet of Alpha Centauri, apparently), discovers that he’s not alone; something is following him.  As the story proceeds we learn that Lt. Harding’s situation is not quite what he thinks it is.  This kind of psychological near-horror stands or falls on execution, and this one falls.  In the hands of a more skilled writer it might have been quite effective.  Two stars.

A Question of Theology, by George Whitley

A. Bertram Chandler, using his frequent pseudonym George Whitley for no apparent reason, contributes A Question of Theology, in which humans are about to land on a planet of Alpha Centauri (yes, that one again), which some time ago was visited by an unmanned vessel carrying experimental animals, and which now seems to have a well-developed civilization with cities.  The humans’ reception is predictable to the reader if not to the characters.  It’s perfectly readable—Chandler is no Slesar but he will serve for most purposes—but it reads as if the author wasn’t really very interested in it, and the theme is unfortunately reminiscent of some of his earlier, much better stories: the incisive The Cage, from Fantasy and Science Fiction seven or so years ago, and Giant Killer, the 1945 Astounding novella that made his reputation.  Two stars.

Sunburst (Part 2 of 3), by Phyllis Gotlieb and The Saga of “Skylark” Smith, by Sam Moskowitz

The rest of the issue is taken up by the second installment of Phyllis Gotlieb’s serial Sunburst, to be reviewed next month, and another of Sam Moskowitz’s SF Profiles: The Saga of “Skylark” Smith.  Edward E. Smith, Ph.D., is of course author of The Skylark of Space and numerous other grandiose space operas of bygone days done in a bygone style, and has failed to adapt to a more sophisticated genre and its audience, as Moskowitz essentially acknowledges.  While some of the biographical detail is interesting, the point is otherwise elusive.  Two stars.

Spectroscope

Last month, the editor proudly announced the advent of Lester del Rey as new proprietor of The Spectroscope, the book review column.  This month, with no comment at all, del Rey is gone and the book reviewer is Robert Silverberg, who is knowledgeable and adept.  Let’s hope he lasts more than a month.

Post-Mortem

So, the upshot: nothing terrible, which compared to recent performance is an improvement, but nothing especially interesting either, except possibly the serial installment.  To be continued.

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TV

[March 11, 1964] Brought into Focus (The Outer Limits, Season 1, Episodes 21-24)

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by Natalie Devitt

Last month’s episodes of The Outer Limits really raised the bar for the series. The newest batch of stories are mostly good, but do not quite meet last month‘s contributions to the series. This month, many characters make some pretty important realizations. Episodes include a story about young man who finds out the real identity of his father after being accused of a heinous crime, a group of scientists that learn some pretty scary things about a plant that they discover in space, amusement park attendees who find out first hand that a spaceship simulator ride is really equipped to handle space travel, and a team of scientists that discover the contents of a moonstone.

The Children of Spider County, by Anthony Lawrence

In The Children of Spider County, “four of the most magnificent and promising young minds in the country suddenly disappear off the face of the Earth.” All of these young men have a lot in common. Not only are they all smart, but they are “physically superior.“ They were born during the same month of the same year in a little place called Spider County. The men also share the same middle name, Aros, a planet in another galaxy. Each one was born prematurely and does not know his father.

The fifth and final member of this group, Ethan, is the only one not missing and he is behind bars, accused of murder. Ethan is played by Lee Kinsolving, who just starred in Twilight Zone’s Black Leather Jackets. Ethan has been having strange dreams of a creature from outer space following him. Turns out, he is being followed by an extraterrestrial, who is also his long lost father.

His father, Aabel, is played by Kent Smith, who appeared in Val Lewton's Cat People. Ethan’s father helps his son escape the police. Aabel warns Ethan that, “Fear, suspicion and ignorance will sentence you to die, not facts.” He offers to take him “home” to Aros, where he can be with others that are like him in a place “where superstition and fear can never reach you.” Meanwhile, an investigator is trying to get to the bottom of the “abductions by representatives of an alien planet.”

In this episode, Aable has an interesting appearance. For starters, he always wears a suit. Also, he switches between looking like a human and an alien (thus fulfilling in two senses The Outer Limits' trademark of featuring a "man in a suit"). A trait of Ethan’s father that I did not particularly enjoy was his penchant for very long monologues. Luckily, most of the speeches were followed by action, picking up the pace. One thing this entry does have going for it is the way it is photographed; the director of photography, Kenneth Peach, uses anything from Dutch angles to birds-eye views to really create the mood for the episode. The Children of Spider County was intriguing, but it was just too uneven to really be satisfying, which is why it earns two and a half stars.

Specimen: Unknown, by Stephen Lord

Men aboard a space station in Specimen: Unknown discover small mushrooms-shaped objects. The episode stars western actor Stephen McNally and Come Back, Little Sheba ‘s Richard Jaeckel. Also, Gail Kobe, who recently appeared in The Twilight Zone’s The Self-Improvement of Salvadore Ross is another performer in Specimen: Unknown. Thinking that the objects are “dormant spores,” the crew members take them to their lab and put them underneath a heat lamp, where the objects quickly grow into large plants with flowers. In the lab, the flowers begin to spray “some kind of vapor,” killing a member of the crew.

Worried about bringing the deceased member home to Earth and possibly spreading the illness to others, the crew disposes of his body in space. Following the funeral, a member of the crew notices another “mushroom thing” attached to the space station. He decides to study it, completely unaware that it is the same type of plant that is responsible for his colleague’s tragic death. Not surprisingly, the plant grows much quicker than anyone could have ever anticipated and it starts “shooting off spores.”

They isolate the “alien plant life” and store it in metal storage containers, where they believe that plant will no longer pose a threat any humans. That is, until said containers are accidentally tipped over and the alien plants are once again able to start releasing more spores in the air, which leads to a number of the men falling ill with the “alien virus.” With a crew this oblivious, will they be able outwit these plants from outer space and stop the illness that they spread?

Specimen: Unknown seems to have been heavily influenced by The Day of the Triffids. That said, one of the things the episode has going for is its space creatures, which offer a nice break from the usual men in monsters suits. I know objectively, this far from the best entry in the series. I mean, the plants seem to be much more intelligent than just any of the people in the episode. But if you like schlock as much as I do, then Specimen: Unknown is kind of fun. That is why I am giving the episode three stars.

Second Chance, by Lin Dane and Lou Morheim

Employees and attendees at an amusement park realize that a spaceship simulator attraction is really capable of space travel in Second Chance. Actor Don Gordon (Self-Improvement of Salvadore Ross) makes another appearance in The Outer Limits as the simulator‘s operator, Dave. Simon Oakland, who everyone has seen in anything from The Twilight Zone to Psycho is completely unrecognizable as the episode’s extraterrestrial, Empyria. He has been watching over the attraction, studying human behavior and preparing it for just the right time to make his journey back into space.

For the trip, Empyria wants company for so he can have assistance with setting up a colony is space. He walks around the park, passing out free tickets for the ride, pretending to be a employee in character, intentionally picking people “who would have the least regret, and would have the most to gain in a new chance in a new undistorted world,” telling people things like, the “universe may be just the place to go and start over.“ But shortly after taking over the attraction, Empyria realizes he does not know humans as well as he thinks he does.

I am not totally sure I am convinced of Empyria’s reasoning for abducting the people, but I really liked this episode. Empyria had a lot of great one-liners. The sequences involving him hiding in the simulator and sneaking around the park were pretty creepy, but it is really the acting that made the story work. Also, everything from the set design and the costumes were great, too. Second Chance was easily the most fun I had watching The Outer Limits this past month, so I give it three and a half stars.

Moonstone, by William Bast

Ruth Roman of Strangers on a Train stars as part of a team of scientists exploring the moon’s surface, who discover a “mysterious moonstone.” The sphere-shaped stone is examined. During the examination, a laser that is said to be so strong that “it can drill holes in diamonds“ has no effect on the moonstone. They assume that it must be made of metal and be used for “collecting data for transmission to Earth” by the Russians.

As it turns out, the moonstone does not belong to the Russians; on the side of the stone are eyeballs that appear and watch everything. Inside the moonstone are aliens that became stranded while trying to flee their tyrannical government that wants to use them for their knowledge. There is not much time before the aliens will be forced to return home. Until then, everyone has to decide what they are willing to sacrifice to make sure that esoteric knowledge does not end up in the wrong hands.

Moonstone has a few of storylines going. The storyline with the aliens is pretty solid. There is also a romantic subplot and some workplace drama that I did not find quite as compelling. In addition to the storylines, the set design and the paintings used for exterior shots of the moon’s surface were quite stunning. The moonstone with eyeballs floating around was really pretty creative. Overall, I would say that Moonstone deserves three stars.

It was another mostly strong month on The Outer Limits, filled with some pretty creative discoveries. With rumors having been confirmed of Twilight Zone's cancellation, The Outer Limits is probably guaranteed another season.

[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…]



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Magazine

[March 9, 1964] Deviant from the Norm (April 1964 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

It's Spreading

25 years ago, a group of fen met in New York for the first World's Science Fiction Convention.  Now, conclaves are springing up all over the nation (and internationally, too).  Just this weekend, I attended a small event ambitiously titled San Diego Comic Fest.  It was a kind of "Comics-in," where fans of the funny pages could discuss their peculiar interests: Is Superman better than Batman?  Are the X-Men and the Doom Patrol related?  Is Steve Ditko one of the best comics artists ever?

I was there as an invited guest to speak on the current state of comics and science fiction.  I understand that the proceeding was filmed and may even be broadcast on local television.  When that happens, I shall be sure to give you a heads up.

Slinging my new color camera, I took photos of some of the new friends I made.  There was also excellent space-themed decor, which I had to capture for posterity.  Many thanks to my friends with the private dark room who developed these prints so quickly for publication:


Posters lining the bar at the Lunar Lounge


Mercury meets Sputnik


The Young Traveler (initials L.E.M.) poses with a mock-up of the Apollo LEM


Alvin of the Chipmunks (his name really is Alvin!)


The artist known as Napoleon Doom


The Traveler with a familiar face


A beautiful, newly commissioned drawing of Dr. Martha Dane, the Journey's unofficial mascot

While the con possessed many superlative qualities, I think my fondest memories involved reading the latest issue of Galaxy, sitting in the lobby of the event hotel, listening to one of the fans play an endless medley of classic and new tunes on the piano.  With that, I suppose it's appropriate I tell you about what I read…

The Issue at Hand


Cover by Sol Dember illustrating Final Contact

The Boy Who Bought Old Earth, by Cordwainer Smith

For years, Cordwainer Smith has teased us with views of his future tales of the Instrumentality, the rigid, computer-facilitated government of Old Earth.  We've learned that there are the rich humans, whose every whim is catered to.  Beneath them, literally, are the Underpeople — animals shaped into human guise (a la Dr. Moreau) who live in subterranean cities.  A giant tower, miles high, launches spaceships to the heavens, spreading the Instrumentality to the hundreds of settled stars of the galaxy.  All but one, the setting of Smith's newest book.

Old North Australia stands alone, an island in an Instrumentality-dominated sea of space.  On that grey, dusty world, its inhabitants still pledge fealty to the Queen of the British Commonwealth (she and that confederation dead some 15,000 years).  What enables this world, dubbed "Norstrilia," to stand alone?  Like Frank Herbert's Arrakis, Norstrilia is the sole producer of the longevity drug, stroon.  This has made Norstrilia fantastically wealthy, able to produce the most lethal of defenses (including Mother Hitton's Littul Kittons).

Our viewpoint in Boy is Rod McBan, a protagonist with a problem.  The scion of one of Norstrilia's oldest and richest families, he has been barred from achieving adulthood for his inability to communicate telepathically with his peers.  Four times the boy has lived to the age of sixteen; three times, he has had his memories erased in the hopes that Rod might develop the appropriate mental gifts to participate meaningfully in society.  Failure to do so a fourth time means judgment by tribunal and possible sentence to death.

How Rod escapes this fate and turns around his fortune so entirely (figuratively and literally) such that he becomes possessor of the Manhome, Old Earth itself, is an interesting tale I shan't spoil.  I can, however, share my thoughts on the story's execution.

Smith is one of the more unusual authors out there.  Having been raised in pre-Communist China and then employed by intelligence agencies, Smith has much more experience with non-Western cultures.  This shows up in his writing, with the Instrumentality and its denizens a fair bit further from the norm of SF societal depictions. 

The author is hampered, however, by choosing Norstrilia as his setting.  The planet is prosaic, deliberately so by choice of the inhabitants.  Missing is that lucid dream-like quality Smith has imparted his other Instrumentality stories.

Moreover, the novel is very short, and it ends abruptly just as it's getting interesting.  I suspect the piece has been cut for space.  The result is just two thirds of a story arc.

For these reasons, I give Boy 3.5 stars and hope that a fuller rendition comes out in proper book form.  Perhaps, like Heinlein's Starship Troopers, this will turn a flawed gem into a masterpiece.

Earth Eighteen, by Ernst Mason

After finishing the serious, humorless piece that was Boy, it was quite a jolt to be thrown into this comedy article, a tourguide for aliens visiting a ruined and mostly depopulated Earth.  Thus, it took me a while to slow down and get into the thing, but once I did, I found moments of genuine cleverness.  The Gaughan pictures are cute, too. 

Three stars.

For Your Information, by Willy Ley

The non-fiction article this month deals with statistical bell curves: the phenomenon whereby any set of things (height of people, size of noses, width of beans) falls within boundaries with the most common incidence being right in the middle.  It's not a bad piece, but it's short and ends abruptly. 

Three stars.

The End of the Race, by Albert Bermel

If you've read the recent novel (soon to be movie) Fail-safe, then you know the ending to this story, a farcical piece about negotiated disarmament between the superpowers.  It was better when it wasn't played for laughs, and not very good laughs at that.

Two stars.

Final Encounter, by Harry Harrison

Now here is the real gem of the book, and a real departure from the norm.  Ship's captain Hautamaki, of the race of Men, takes aboard a married pair of more conventionally human anthropologists, Gulyas and Tjond.  Their mission: to make first contact with aliens.  The extraterrestrials have left tantalizing clues of their existence, beacons on various worlds pointing to one star in the galaxy.  Friction quickly erupts amongst the crew.  Tjond, the sole woman, finds Hautamaki's insistence on nudity disturbing.  And she cannot comprehend at all the society of Men, which includes no women, involves marriage, love, and production of children by homosexual union alone. 

Worse yet, Hautamaki insists on jettisoning all weaponry and adopting a completely peaceful posture when approaching the aliens.  His reasoning is that the threat of violence could jeopardize the contact, and if the aliens prove hostile even in the face of no provocation, well, the next mission will be so alerted.

I absolutely loved this story.  It possessed that well-executed strangeness that I'd sort of expected from the Smith.  I appreciated that it was the Man who was the gentle pacifist.  And, as in Evelyn Smith's They Also Serve, a homosexual man is key to a peaceful first contact.  But unlike Smith's story, this is the first instance in SF (aside from Sturgeon's The World Well Lost from 1953) where the homosexuality is explicit — and completely unapologetic.

How times have changed.  Five stars.

At the Feelies, by Jack Sharkey

At the con, I had a discussion with a fellow who mused on the future of movies.  After silent films came talkies.  Then color, 3-D, "Sens-o-rama," and so on.  It was timely, then, that I read this piece right after.  It's a (fictional) review of Gone with the Wind redone such that the audience can feel and smell from the point of view of the actors — a technology with mixed blessings, as you can imagine.

It's cute.  Three stars.

Soft and Soupy Whispers, by Sydney Van Scyoc

Van Scyoc offers up a typically macabre piece about a mentally disturbed man whose insanity is kept under control through the installation of a mental companion.  In essence, the fellow is made sane through schizophrenia.  It's subtle and interesting, but a bit obtuse and more artful than plausible.

Three stars.

The Blasphemers, by Philip José Farmer

Last up is another piece from left field, this one dealing with a race of centaurs that possesses four sexes, all of which are necessary to produce (and capable of bearing) children.  The aliens are an advanced, starfaring race.  Highly religious, they venerate the spirits of their ancestors, holding sacred the statues of their elders.  One iconoclast leads his mated quartet to a shrine and proceeds to make love amongst the monuments.

He is caught and brought before a judge, but instead of being sentenced to immolation, he is congratulated for his heresy and informed that the state religion is bunk, actually a tool to justify the conquest of planets: one of the faith's tenets is that an early ancestor left statues of himself on planets to be colonized by the race; such statues were actually carved recently by advance scouts.

Our protagonist is then made a ship's captain and dispatched to colonize as many worlds as he and his companions can, until common sense prevails over faith and the old order is toppled.

Particularly interesting about this piece is the assertion that religious faith is instilled by nature, not nurture.  Like sexual preference, one can't help one's feelings on the subject, the story says.

Ambitious and laudable as Farmer's goals are in this piece, his execution is workmanlike.  Ted Sturgeon once called Farmer an author who always almost gets it right, and that record continues with The Blasphemers.  I suppose Harrison can't write all the iconoclastic tales.

Three stars.

Summing Up

With just one very short clunker in the mix, and despite the (relative) disappointment of the Smith novel, the April 1964 Galaxy is a welcome departure from the standard.  I'm impressed.  What wonders await us in two months?

[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…]




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Comics

[March 7, 1964] Look both ways (Marvel and National Comics round-up)

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[While you're reading this article, why not tune in to KGJ, Radio Galactic Journey, playing all the current hits: pop, rock, soul, folk, jazz, country — it's the tops, pops…]


by Gideon Marcus

Overcoming prejudice

Once, I was a snob.

For the most part, I was raised on a steady diet of L. Frank Baum, Edgar Rice Burroughs, and H.P. Lovecraft.  I devoured the complete canons of each.  I also enjoyed the superhero comics of the war years — who doesn't like watching Captain America slug Nazis?  But after the war, I was getting tired of the pulps, and comics were getting tired.  I wanted something new.

Then, 'round 1950, I discovered science fiction digests — grown-up mags like Galaxy and Fantasy and Science Fiction — and my snobbish attitude was firmly established.  It didn't help that comics had entered a real slump by the 1950s, with National Comics (DC to the hep kids) in a rut and Atlas running Westerns and half-bit anthologies.  With the demise of the American News Company, Atlas went the way of the dodo, along with most of the inferior digests.  Survival of the fittest, right?

So I certainly didn't expect that I would find myself getting into those very same comics I'd once turned my nose at.  I first took notice when Marvel Comics arose from the ashes of Atlas Comics and started publication of The Fantastic Four.  Not only did this mag showcase the talents of Jack Kirby, the fellow who invented Captain America, but it featured a more realistic team dynamic than I'd ever seen before.  Why, these folks hardly even liked each other sometimes.  I appreciated the dilemma of The Thing, a hideous rock monster who nevertheless wasn't keen on returning to his human form, lest he give up his evil-clobbering powers.

Then came The Amazing Spiderman and The X-Men, and I was hooked.  I sang Marvel's virtues and scoffed at the kiddie fare that DC was peddling.  Around that time, I picked up an adversary, a Mr. Jason Sacks who delighted in telling me how wrong-headed my tastes were.

Late last year, Jason and I decided, unlike Tareyton smokers, that we'd rather switch than fight.  You see, Jason had discovered the charm of the new line-up of Marvel superheroes, and I was taken with D.C.'s new X-men-like group, the Doom Patrol.  Instead of picking a side, why not enjoy the virtues of both?

State of the Union

Here in March 1964 (May on the comics I buy at the news stand), Marvel's line-up has fully flowered.  The newest member of the superhero pantheon is Matt Murdock, a blind attorney whose other senses have compensated to such a degree (sounds inspired by Galouye's Dark Universe doesn't it?) that he is able to fight crime as The Daredevil!  The debut issue of this hero, written by Stan Lee and drawn by Bill Everett, was a hoot, and I look forward to the next.

Sidebar: I'm impressed that both comics houses are exploring the idea of handicapped heroes: Daredevil is blind, Professor X and The Chief (leaders of the X-Men and the Doom Patrol) both use wheelchairs, Thor's human form requires a cane, The Thing, Doom Patrol's Automaton and Negative Man and X-Men's Angel all have obvious physical peculiarities that make them stand out.  This makes for more mature storylines, and those of us with some kind of disability find a measure of comfort in having these folks with whom to identify.

Spiderman, a Stan Lee/Steve Ditko effort, continues to entertain.  This month's issue, #8, features the return of Dr. Octopus and spotlights the problem of recidivism amongst supervillains.

Both Fantastic Four (Lee/Kirby) and Spiderman demonstrate Marvel's increasing reliance on multi-book story arcs.  It's funny to think that two stories per issue used to be the norm — now it might take several issues to wrap up a plotline.  Speaking of Fantastic Four, in issue #24, the Thing goes toe to toe with the Hulk in a match-up every bit as exciting as the recent Heavyweight Championship between Cassius Clay and Sonny Liston. 

Avengers (Lee/Kirby) is a bi-monthly, like X-Men; in the last issue (#4), Captain America was thawed from the ice in which he's been frozen since World War 2.  I can't tell you how excited I am to have Cap back, and I urge you to check it out.

As for the "anthologies," these are increasingly becoming character books, and I have to wonder if they will just get renamed for the hero that stars in them.  For instance, Strange Tales has become the home of the mysterious Dr. Strange, although this issue also features a popular rivalry/team-up: the flaming Torch and the frozen Turd…er… Ice Man!

Journey into Mystery #103 is Thor's mag.

Tales of Suspense #52 stars Iron Man fighting the Black Widow, and an immortal alien called The Watcher.

I'm always happy to see the Wasp, and she got an outing with her beaux, Giant Man, in Tales to Astonish #54. 

And then there is the host of girls comics featuring the latest in fashion:

Let's not forget the western titles, which I don't bother with, but which still linger on.

For the WW2 buffs who don't get enough from DC's Sgt. Rock, this month's Sgt. Fury and his Howling Commandos is a riveting courtmartial drama.

Finally, I want to give recognition to the fellows who most often go unsung, the Letterers: Sol Rosen and Art Simek.  Without them, comics would be just a bunch of pictures.

Oh, and what do we have here?  Mr. Sacks is invoking the Fairness Doctrine and wants to tell us all about the state of National Comics.  Well, why not?

Better Read than Dead


by Jason Sacks

The big comic news for me in ‘64 is that the Doom Patrol have finally emerged into their own title. Moving out from an anthology slot in My Greatest Adventure, these oddball adventurers continue to delight. Thankfully National has identified the artist on this sterling series as Bruno Premiani, and the Italian master delivers fascinating tales of “The world’s strangest heroes.” For a change such a blurb is accurate, as the weird Negative Man, charmingly acerbic Robotman and enchanting Elasti-Girl continue working for the mysterious chief.  It’s similar to Marvel’s much duller X-Men — though the similarities are apparently an accident of timing, if you believe the fanzines — but more insightful and stranger.

Recently, Hawkman debuted his own solo comic after a series of showcase appearances in  Mystery In Space. National editor Julius Schwartz’s latest resurrection of a long-forgotten Golden Age character, the new Hawkman is an alien from the delightfully named Thanagar, working on Earth as a museum manager and in the stars as a great space policeman. The art, most likely by Murphy Anderson, is all National Comics smoothness and ease, making the winged wonder’s adventures a thorough delight.

With Hawkman moving out from Mystery in Space, that anthology series is now devoted to full-length tales featuring the hero of Rann, Adam Strange. With sleek, moderne art by Carmine Infantino, well known for his fabulous Flash, this thrilling series mixes astounding adventure with a smart space romance for a surprisingly heady mix that even adults can enjoy.

It’s not all greatness for National in ‘64, though. Editor Mort Weisinger continues his stultifyingly stale children’s stories in the Superman titles, while Metal Men is seldom as clever as it wants to be and Wonder Woman is so dull even my kid sister won’t pick it up. Worst of all are Batman and Detective Comics. A recent issue of Detective, issue #326, shows the nadir of this abysmal series with the pathetically stupid “Captives of the Alien Zoo,” a story so dumb and so contrived that it should result in the immediate firing of everyone responsible for its creation. Compared to that, even Archie Comics’ idiotic Adventures of The Fly seems like the work of a genius.

Overall DC is following some of the same trends Marvel has embraced recently. For one thing, a reader has to wonder if anthology series are on their way out. My Greatest Adventure disappeared while others, like Mystery in Space and House of Secrets (with the intriguing Eclipso), are going full action hero. In other ways National blazes their own trail. That company continues to have a wider diversity of titles than Marvel – hardly a surprise with the larger set of titles they deliver each month. Humor and romance still have their place with the likes of Jerry Lewis, Bob Hope, Girls’ Love Stories and Secret Hearts. As usual with National all their titles demonstrate that traditional sheen of professionalism Marvel often lacks. Will kids go for smoothness over unpredictability in ‘64? Only time will tell.

[And that's our comics round-up for San Diego Comic Fest!  If I met any of you folk this weekend, please drop me a line.  I'd love to hear from you.]




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Book

[March 5, 1964] Brushwinged, I Soar (Hannah Green's I Never Promised You a Rose Garden)

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by Erica Frank

Deborah Blau lives in two worlds. One is the world of post-World War II America, where she faces anti-Semitism at school, and her family is fraught with guilt from relying on her grandfather's wealth instead of her father's limited wages. The other is the Kingdom of Yr: a world with vast open plains and the endless chasm of The Pit. Yr's residents include Anterrabae, the Falling God; Lactamaeon, second in command; and Idat the Dissembler, who is neither male nor female. "You are not of them," the Yri gods tell her, and they teach her to soar the skies in her eagle-self, and she sings with them in the secret language of the hidden realm. The Censor stands guard to prevent the words from mingling when she shifts between the Rising Calendar of Yr and the Heavy Calendar of Earth.

But I Never Promised You a Rose Garden is not a science fiction novel, and Deborah is neither a time-traveler nor a sorceress. She is a sixteen-year-old girl, and Yr is the delusional world of her mental illness.

Cover of I Never Promised You a Rose Garden

Yr is a compelling world; Yri is an intriguing language. We only see them in glimpses as Deborah struggles to explain her truths to Doctor Fried, whom she names Furii, Fire-Touch, in her secret language. Yr is Deborah's protection and way of explaining to herself the traumas of her life: the tumor removed when she was five, the racist girls at her summer camp, the endless tensions between her parents and grandfather. She is surrounded by lies, and Yr is the place where nobody lies to her.

Nobody in Yr tells her, "This will not hurt at all, and when you wake up, you will be all better." Nobody tells her, "None of these girls called you a stinking Jew." Nobody says, "You are smart and special and that means you will be successful in life." In Yr, the customary greeting is "suffer, victim," and the calendar rises in good times and falls in bad times, and Deborah flies as a bird or gallops as a horse, unfettered and free. The incantation that calls forth her freedom is beautiful:

“e, quio quio quaru ar Yr aedat
temoluqu' braown elepr kyryr…”
(Brushwinged, I soar above the canyons of your sleep singing…)

Of course she wants to stay there. Yr has been her solace and sanctuary since she was six years old; it will be very, very hard for her to acknowledge it might not be a real place. If she loses it, she believes life will be nothing but falsehoods and distortions and incomprehensible tasks assigned by others.

But Yr is turning dark. The Collect, the swarm of voices who shout instructions and insults at her, are growing louder, and she spends less time celebrating its beauty and more in regions of fear and pain. The gods who were delightful companions at first, distracting her from real-world tensions and abuses, now bring her messages of bitterness and horror. Even so, Deborah retreats into Yr more and more, losing entire days from memory and not knowing what she did or said in that time.

Deborah is committed to a mental institution, and it begins as a great relief to her. For the first time in years, nobody is pretending she is normal, that there is nothing wrong with her. Of course, what Deborah thinks is wrong with her, and what the doctors think is wrong with her, don't match–but fixing that can come later. First, she has to trust that they can recognize that she has real problems.

Deborah's doctor is much in demand; she wouldn't take the case if she didn't believe Deborah could get better. Dr. Fried is acclaimed, even famous, and she needs that cachet of status when convincing the parents to leave her there, especially after Deborah is committed to the "Disturbed" ward, with bars on the windows and ratty-haired women wearing pajamas all day. Her parents are dismayed at the idea of their "sensitive" little girl being in such a place, and they worry about the community finding out about her illness. The doctor needs to persuade them, and keep persuading them, that Deborah needs this.

And she does. She has to get worse before she can get better. She has to let go of the constraints of blending in, of being polite, of pretending that social interactions mean the same things to her that they do to others.

Deborah's journey is a hard battle, and a big part of it is how she relates to the other inmates. At first, they are all mysteries to her, just another set of talking obstacles she navigates around while she tries to sort out truth from fantasy. Slowly, she comes to realize that each of them has her own traumas, her own methods of coping, and to recognize the potential of future health in some of them–a terrifying thought for people who find hope a burden as much as a source of strength.

She learns the secret codes they use to sneak forbidden items past the nurses. She makes a friend, when she was never able to do so at school. She seeks out those who can teach her Latin and Greek, in fragments and amidst the fights that explode any time something changes in the ward. (Just hearing about someone who used to be here, but is now working in the real world, is enough strain to disrupt the place for days.) She learns that the staff thinks of her as cold and vicious, and that her intellect is weapon as much as tool. And she learns compassion, the baffling wonder of having the power to help someone else, when she had been convinced that her very essence was nothing but poison.

While the story is set in the late 40s and early 50s, it's timeless. The town and the institute are never named, nor do they need to be. While today's mental institutions won't have a regular influx of conscientious objectors serving as orderlies to avoid prison, there are always some staff who obviously don't want to be there. The patients recognize the ones who fear and hate them, and treat them differently. Some of the security practices seem almost barbaric, but Deborah shrugs them off; her trials are internal, and physical comforts are irrelevant to her.

Rose Garden is intense and fascinating. It gives a glimpse into both mental illness and how the stigma surrounding it can make it worse: Deborah's troubles are harder for having to pretend she is "normal." The world of Yr would make a delightful setting for a novel in its own right, and it is hard, as a science fiction fan, to favor the termination of such a place–but that is what Deborah needs, so that is what the reader comes to want as well.

5 stars; it doesn't get better than this.

[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…]




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Book, Magazine

[March 3, 1964] Out and about (March 1964 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Braving My Shadow

Every year on February 2, a groundhog named Punxatawney Phil decides if it's worth vacating his winter hiding place before spring. 

For Galactic Gideon, on the other hand, the end of winter always happens in February.  The annual convention season wraps up around Thanksgiving with the little gathering of Los Angeles Science Fiction Fans called "Loscon."  There is a lull of events in December and January, but well before the vernal equinox, the Journey's dance card is full.  In fact, I've already been to two events in as many weeks, and I've got another one planned next weekend! 

My birthday weekend was spent at a small Los Angeles conclave called Escapade, where we discussed Johnson's tax cut, The Outer Limits vs. The Twilight Zone, and the more peculiar elements of the TV show, Burke's Law.  Unusually for sf-related gatherings, most of the attendees were women.

Last night, I presented at a local pub on the woman pioneers of space, the scientists, engineers, and computers I first wrote about a couple of years ago.  It was a tremendous event, and I am grateful to the folks who crowded the venue to bursting.

The Issue at Hand

In contrast to these past two events, the last magazine of the month is mostly stag.  Nevertheless, the March 1964 Analog is still a pretty good, if not outstanding, read:


Cover by Schoenherr, illustrating Spaceman

Clouds, Bubbles and Sparks, by Edward C. Walterscheid

There are three qualities by which I rate science fact articles: Are they fun to read, do I learn something, and are there bits where I feel compelled to joggle the elbow of the person next to me (usually my wife) and relate to them a neat bit of scientific trivia.

This latest piece, on the detection of subatomic particles, excels in all three.  If you ever wanted to know how a geiger counter works, or what a cloud chamber is for, or what those tubes in our scientific spacecraft do, this is the article for you. 

Five stars.

Spaceman (Part 1 of 2), by Murray Leinster

The dean of Golden Age science fiction returns with yet another entry in his well-developed galactic setting.  In the Leinster-verse, perhaps best represented in his Med Series stories, interstellar travel is a bit like ocean travel in the 19th Century — reliable but not instant.  Colonies are days or weeks apart, and what separates a thriving hub from a backwater is the existence of a magnetic landing grid on which cargo ships can land and trade.

Spaceman is the story of Braden, a ship's mate who seeks passage aboard the Rim Star.  This giant vessel is an experiment — it carries an entire, unassembled landing grid in its hold, and it also possesses the rockets to make a landing on a world without a grid.  Having one ship bring an entire landing grid for installation has never been tried before, but no one is certain that the ship can fulfill this purpose.  Moreover, there are all sorts of bad omens for Braden: he is waylaid by the ship's crew while on his way to his interview; the captain seems negligent to a criminal degree, and the obsequiousness of the ship's steward rings false.  In spite of these alarms, Braden takes the job anyway, feeling it his duty to see the ship through its special mission, and also to protect the six passengers the Rim Star has aboard.

The other shoe drops near the end of this first part of what's promised to be a two-part serial.  The crew is, in fact, up to no good, and the entire ship is imperiled.  Stay tuned.

It's not a bad yarn.  The plot is interesting and the characters reasonably developed.  Where it creaks is the writing.  Leinster has developed an odd sort of plodding and padded style of late, with endless sequences of short sentences and whole paragraphs that repeat information we already know.  Used sparingly, I suppose it's a style that could be effective.  Used excessively, it slows things down.

And then, there's this gem of a line (an internal musing of Braden's) on page 36:

When a man admits that a woman is a better man than he is, he may be honest, but he should be ashamed.

Three stars, barely.  We'll see what happens next month.

The Pie-Duddle Puddle, by Walt and Leigh Richmond

Recently, in Papa needs shorts, the Richmonds showed us how a four-year old child can save the day even with an imperfect understanding of the situation.  The husband-and-wife writing team try it again, this time from an even more exotic viewpoint (which you'll guess pretty quickly).  It's not nearly as effective or plausible a piece.  Two stars.

Outward Bound, by Norman Spinrad

I'm getting a little worried about new author, Norman Spinrad.  He hit it out of the park with his first story, and scored a double with his second.  The latest, about a decades-long relativistic chase across the galaxy in pursuit of the man who has the secret to superluminous travel, is barely a walk to first base.  It's not bad; there's just no mystery to the thing.  Three stars.

Third Alternative, by Robin Wilson

On the other hand, this first story by new author Robin Wilson is rather charming.  It's a time travel piece featuring a fellow who goes back from 2012 to 1904 with naught but what he can cram into his bodily orifices (inorganic matter doesn't transport).  You don't find out his purpose until the end, and it's an engaging, effective piece.  Another three-star story, but at the high end of the range.

Summing up

Reviewing the numbers, it seems like leaving the burrow was worth it.  Least mag of the bunch was Amazing at 2.3 stars and with no four star tales.  Next was IF at 2.4 stars, again with no exceptional pieces.  Fantastic clocked in at 2.7, but it had the excellent The Graveyard Heart by Zelazny; New Worlds, three stars, had Ballard's The Terminal Breach.  At the positive end of the scale were F&SF and Analog at 3.3 stars — their non-fiction articles were the real stand-outs.  Finally, Worlds of Tomorrow was mostly superior, definitely worth the 50 cent cover price.

Women had a banner month, producing 5.5 out of 39 new pieces (14.1%). 

Looks like we'll have a warm spring!

[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…]




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TV

[February 29, 1964] Think Twice — it's not all right (The Twilight Zone, Season 5, Episodes 17-20)

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by Natalie Devitt

The characters in the most recent month of The Twilight Zone certainly encountered plenty of doubt and hesitation when they asked for help or tried to express themselves. Such entries include the family of a young woman encouraging her to get a life-altering procedure against her wishes, a teenage girl’s alien boyfriend not receiving the help he needs when he tries to warn her that aliens plan to poison the water supply, an aging spinster struggling to get people to believe that she has been receiving a series of creepy calls, and a man who is so desperate he takes the advice of a computer to get one very special woman to acknowledge his existence.

Number 12 Looks Just Like You, by Charles Beaumont and John Tomerlin

Number 12 Looks Just Like You offers a glimpse of what the year 2000 might look like. In this futuristic society, "science has developed the means to give everyone the face and body he dreams of." A young woman by the name of Marilyn, played by Collin Wilcox of To Kill a Mockingbird, is approaching her 19th birthday. She is also being pressured by her loved ones to mark the occasion with a certain rite of passage, which includes selecting a new body out of a handful of options, like she’s ordering one from a catalog. Then, undergo a procedure to transform into her new self. She is told, "The transformation is the most marvelous thing that could happen to a person." Still, she has her concerns.

Several people in this society, while attractive, look identical and everyone wears name tags so nobody confuses any of the doppelgangers. I am sure it is no coincidence that Marilyn shares a name with one of the silver screen’s most iconic beauties. Her mother, portrayed by model Suzy Parker, asks, "What’s so terrible about being beautiful? After all, isn’t everybody?" Marilyn argues that that is exactly the problem: "Is that good, being like everybody? Isn’t that the same as being nobody?"

A family member refers to her reservations about the procedure as "radical ideas" and she is also described as being a "sick girl." To make matters worse, her beliefs echo things her father said shortly before taking his own life. Can Marilyn continue to resist the intense pressure to conform?

Number 12 Looks Just Like You is good, but not excellent. It kind of feels like a lesser version of a previous entry of The Twilight Zone, Eye of the Beholder. Collin Wilcox really becomes her character, who is significantly younger than she is in real life. Then there is the episode’s conclusion, which is incredibly frightening and is probably the episode’s greatest strength. Overall, I would say that Number 12 Looks Just Like You deserves a pretty solid three stars.

Black Leather Jackets, by Earl Hamner Jr.

In Black Leather Jackets, a biker gang rides into a sleepy town wearing, you guessed it, Black Leather Jackets. Despite some similarities, Black Leather Jackets is hardly The Wild One — the three men are not members of your ordinary biker gang. In fact, they are aliens with telekinetic powers. The aliens set up shop in a vacant house. Upon the gang’s arrival, the neighbors are hardly welcoming. One of them, Stu, portrayed by Western regular Denver Pyle, describes them as, "strange type for this neighborhood." Shelly Fabares of The Donna Reed Show plays his teenage daughter, Ellen, who Stu warns to steer clear of the gang.

It is not long after the bikers move in that the electricity in Stu’s house begins turning on and off, and Ellen’s radio picks up some strange voices. While trying to determine the cause, Stu notices a large antenna on the roof of the gang‘s house. He thinks he may have found the cause of his family‘s problems, and he decides to pay their house a visit.

As it turns out, the men are much more threatening than he ever could have imagined. They are spying on others and are receiving broadcasts of orders from their alien leader. Orders to release a deadly bacteria into the water supply in order to kill Earth’s population so they can colonize the planet. The bikers erase Stu’s memories of visiting their house and send him home in a trance. He describes the men as "three very nice boys" and no longer suspects them of being responsible for the family’s poor reception.

Shortly after, a member of the group, Scott, performed by Golden Globe Nominee Lee Kinsolving, becomes romantically involved with Ellen, much to the gang’s dismay. They are ordered by their boss to "continue without him," even though he is involved with a member of a "stupid race." Scott urges Ellen to leave town and he offers to take her to safety. He warns, "Everything alive is going to be dead," but not surprisingly, he does not exactly get the help he needs.

It is worth noting that Black Leather Jackets has a plot that is remarkably similar to Teenagers from Outer Space, but is not nearly as enjoyable as the movie. Despite looking slicker than Teenagers, Black Leather Jackets is only mildly entertaining, and often unintentionally funny. The actors did an adequate job, but it is a shame that they did not have very good source material. The screenplay is hardly Earl Hamner, Jr. at his best. I did, however, enjoy Nathan Van Cleave’s jazzy score for the episode. So, I would say that this episode deserves two and a half stars.

Night Call, by Richard Matheson

Gladys Cooper makes yet another memorable appearance on The Twilight Zone with Night Call. It has not even been a year since her last performance in the enjoyable Passage on the Lady Anne. Cooper plays Elva, a disabled and elderly woman, who lives alone. One rainy night during a storm, her phone rings. When she answers, all she hears is silence. Immediately after, she receives another call with even more silence.

Elva contacts the phone company, hoping to get to root of the problem. She is informed that during the storm, some wires had fallen. Elva is told that the unusual calls could have been the result of someone to reach her or someone else on her party line during the storm. Elva continues to receive calls, which grow increasingly strange, including calls with moaning and a man saying, "Hello." She tells her caretaker, Margaret, about the calls. Unfortunately, Margaret acts like she suspects Elva is going senile.

The phone company plans to send out a worker to check on the line as soon as the weather permits, but Elva fears that the company might think of her as a "nervous old biddy falling prey to my imagination." Until a worker can check on the line, she tries leaving the phone off of the hook. But as soon as she puts it back on the hook, it starts ringing again. Things continue to escalate and now the voice on the end of the line is asking, "Where are you? I want to talk with you."

Finally, the phone company contacts her tell her that the source of the problem is likely a "fallen wire on the edge of town." But they also add, "there is no way that anyone could have called from that location." So, who is contacting Elva and why? When calls are "routed directly through The Twilight Zone," anything is possible.

What’s not to like about Night Call? Sure, it does not hurt that it was written by Richard Matheson and directed by Jacques Tourneur, who is perhaps best known for his work with Val Lewton in pictures like 1942’s Cat People. Night Call is not flashy, but it is very effective. The suspense slowly builds. It is easily one of the high points of the season, perhaps of the series. Gladys Cooper is terrific, as usual. In addition, the episode’s score, while not specifically composed for the episode, helps to compliment the episode. This is especially true in the scene that reveals Elva’s caller. Night Call easily earns its four stars.

From Agnes with Love, by Bernard C. Schoenfeld

As From Agnes with Love opens with computer programmers struggling to repair Agnes, a very sophisticated and almost human computer, but sadly nobody can get her back in working. That is, until James, played my television actor Wally Cox, arrives. He is told, "She’s been out of her mind for a week." Luckily, as soon as the "master programmer" begins to work on then malfunctioning machine, she resumes normal activity.

James might excel at work, but he struggles in his love life. After working with Agnes for a while, she begins inquiring about his love life and coaching him. Leave It to Beaver’s Sue Randall plays Millie, Jame’s co-worker, who he has a pretty intense crush on. After rejecting James several times, Millie finally agrees to a dinner date.

Agnes sends James messages with dating advice, including "Agnes knows best." She lets him know that "reckless romantic approach required" in order to win over Millie. James is book smart, but often lacks common sense, so what he does not realize is that Agnes has actually set him up for failure. When things do not work out with Millie, Agnes tries to cheer him up him by sending him the message, "Millie is a square. Better girl loves you."

While From Agnes with Love is better than some other entries with a sense of humor, it still is pretty weak. So weak, in fact, that it really requires silly musical cues to remind the audience to laugh. The narrative is incredibly predictable, and the only person surprised by anything that happens is James. As much as I hate to admit it, two stars is all that I can give From Agnes with Love.

Some of characters this month were able to overcome people's doubts, others were not so lucky. The episodes this time around varied quite a bit in terms of quality. There were two very strong offerings. The remaining two were not so memorable. All in all, a hodgepodge of a month, but mostly worth the ride.

[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…]



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Book, Magazine

[February 27, 1964] Beatles, Boredom and Ballard ( New Worlds, March 1964)

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

Things have been busy since last time we spoke. I have been watching with interest (and some good-natured amusement!) the return of The Beatles to your shores. You really have taken the Liverpudlian mop-tops to your hearts, as they have taken over here. I did try and warn you last month about the effect that their enthusiasm and energetic pop can have on impressionable teenagers, and from what news coverage I have seen here many of you seem to have capitulated to their collective charms, as we had before Christmas. 

Doctor Who is still continuing to enthrall and charm here. As fellow traveller Jessica has said already, the latest episode has been an odd one (to put it mildly!), but generally the family and I are still enjoying it a great deal. This is a rather different view to that given in this month’s New Worlds magazine, as you will see… 

To the magazine, then.

The issue at hand

As we approach the end of the magazine next month, it does appear that there is a general feeling of closure evident. But, perhaps knowing that the end is near, the magazine has some terrific fiction amongst the usual fare. 

We begin however with a typically controversial opinion. Whilst there is no guest editorial this month, in its place the issue has a summary of the state of sf in 1963 as editor Mr. Carnell sees it, entitled “A Dull Year".

Now that Mr. Carnell’s tenure as Editor is drawing to a close, it does seem that the gloves are off. His view comes across as rather grumpy. For example, describing Doctor Who as a programme “designed for teenagers and tottering oldsters" is a bit mean. Granted, it is not pushing the boundaries of sf too much, but the fact that we’re seeing any sf on British television I see as a strength. We are not as lucky as yourselves in the US – I still wish I could see The Twilight Zone here, but no sign yet.

Mr. Carnell is similarly disgruntled with sf fiction. There were over thirty hardback books published in Britain last year, but according to Mr. Carnell only three were of any merit. This may be a case of quantity over quality, although I found it interesting that a quick summary of the New Worlds Survey asked for last year (the first since 1958, don’t forget) may suggest another reason for Mr. Carnell’s umbrage – magazine sales are down but paperback sales are up.

After such a gloomy context, we begin the issue’s fiction with something a little more to Mr. Carnell’s taste, perhaps. 

the terminal beach, by Mr. J. G. Ballard

The Terminal Beach is the story of Traven (typically no first names here!), who, for reasons that become clear over the course of the story, has travelled to the island of Eniwetok, a site of atomic bomb tests. As is typical of Ballard, the emphasis is more on mood and less on plot, with many of the Ballard motifs from other stories repeated: physical and mental decay, dystopian featureless buildings, isolation, and deteriorating technology. It is bleak, enigmatic and unsettling, and inevitably concerned with the human condition, which frankly isn’t looking great from this perspective. I’m not entirely sure what all of it is about, or even if it has an overall meaning, but its pervasive mood is chillingly depressing.

It is also a prime example of how far the British New Wave has changed science fiction in the last decade or so. We are light years away from spaceships and monsters here. 4 out of 5.

the traps of time , by Mr. John Baxter

And now to more traditional fare, a time travel story where a killer from the 39th century escapes justice to hide in the nuclear wastes of the 48th. The idea of how minor changes in time travel have consequences is nicely done, but overall the story adds little to the genre. The story concludes with that now almost-traditional downbeat note that seems to be a British convention. 3 out of 5.

unfinished business , by Mr. Clifford C. Reed

Even compared with the rest of the issue, this story is an oddity. Unfinished Business is a story of a married couple, one of whom disappears when flying off to see a pregnant friend. The result is that the remaining partner takes on deliberately dangerous jobs on other planets, not caring if he dies or not. After seventeen years he returns to Earth, to find that the girl who was born at the time of his partner’s apparent death seems strangely familiar. I suspect that it is meant to be creepy, but in the end comes across as just strange. 3 out of 5.

the unremembered , by Mr. Edward Mackin

Have you ever been subject to one of those rants by an old person that “things are not as good as they used to be"? Mr. Mackin’s story begins like that, with an elderly couple complaining about a depressing future world of synthetic foods and euthanasia clinics. It’s not too surprising then that with the closure of ‘the Clinics’, our protagonist is determined to discover another way out and finds some sort of Cosmic message at the end. It’s a mixture of dystopian social commentary and cosmic revelation that didn’t fit together well for me, to the point where this becomes another story with a title that seems to be sadly appropriate. 2 out of 5.

jetway 75 , by Mr. William Spencer

Mr. Spencer was last here as Bill Spencer in the October 1963 issue with Project 13013. This is a one-trick pony kind of tale, showing a future where pedestrians play chicken with the endless stream of cars on the titular means of conveyance. The point of the story, if there is any, seems to be that both walker and vehicle driver need this deadly interaction to create excitement in their otherwise humdrum life. Rather Ballardian, but without the style and skill, something emphasized by having The Terminal Beach in the same issue. 3 out of 5.

open prison , by Mr. James White

Last month this story left us with the situation where a group of inmates with an innate duty to escape from the prison planet were planning to heist an orbiting spaceship. Much of this middle part is about the preparation for “E-Day" and the practical and political challenges facing the escapees. Admittedly, the story moves along and there’s a building of tension as the escape approaches, but it is scarcely original and clearly the middle part of a story. And there’s still that patronizing tone that vacillates between “What are we going to let the useless girls do?" and “Gosh, those women are jolly useful, aren’t they?" Not one of Mr White’s best, I feel. 3 out of 5.

Unusually, but again expectedly, there is a postmortem letters section this month, the first since the announcement that next month’s New Worlds may be the last. Surprisingly, this selection is not as full of outrage and regret as you might expect, instead reading as any normal letters section. Some readers take the opportunity to complain about stories (such as the recent Mr. Colin Kapp) or bemoan the fact that sf is for entertainment and not an artform, as recent editorials have tried to indicate. There’s also an impassioned cry from a long-time reader for a return to ‘sense-of-wonder’ stories, but I feel that we’ve moved long past that.

(Talking of the end of New Worlds, there are rumours, but I must emphasise at this stage only rumours, that a rescue package may be being looked at for the magazine. Hopefully we will know more by next month.)

Lastly, this month’s rather short set of Book Reviews. Mr. Leslie Flood looks at what sounds like an interesting hardback collecting together recent Russian Science Fiction, which he describes as toeing “the socialist line" but finds “entertaining". He also reviews Mr. Edmund Cooper’s Transit as a “better than average" book, albeit with a hoary plot. He is much more positive about Mr Clifford Simak’s Way Station, which you may remember our Traveller reviewing when it appeared in Galaxy Magazine in two parts last year. Mr. Flood summarises it as “the sort of nonsense I simply cannot resist, and Simak does it so well." I’ve recently read this myself and can only agree.

Lastly, Mr Flood mentions the print of a post-war classic, “for too long out of print", Messers Pohl and Kornbluth’s Gladiator-At-Law. Whilst lacking “the spurious charm" of The Space Merchants, it is “very compulsive reading".

Summing up

In summary, another diverse issue. Mr. Carnell’s tenure as Editor may be drawing to a close, but he seems determined to want to go with a bang, although I am sure that Mr. Ballard’s story will have many readers who hate it as much as others love it. You may not like everything here, and it hardly manages any degree of consistency, but it can’t be denied that in places this is a thought-provoking issue. 

Until next month.

[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…]




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