Tag Archives: 1965

[July 2, 1965] Gallimaufry (August 1965 IF)


by David Levinson

A gallimaufry is a kind of stew. Like any stew, it’s composed of a bunch of things thrown together and so has also come to mean any sort of hodge-podge. Since I haven’t been able to come up with some sort of overarching theme this month (and perhaps because, as I write this, I skipped lunch and it’s a couple of hours until dinner), let’s just look at the mish-mash of things that caught my eye (and ear) this month.

The British Invasion continues

On June 12th, the Beatles were named Members of the British Empire. That’s the lowest level of honor granted by the British government, but unsurprisingly a lot of old fuddy-duddies are unhappy with popular musicians being so honored. Member of the Canadian House of Commons Hector Dupuis complained, “British royalty has put me on the same level as a bunch of vulgar numbskulls.” According to my research, apart from seven and a half years in the Canadian Parliament, Mr. Dupuis’ main contribution to society is selling insurance. I’m not sure he’s the one who ought to be complaining about the comparison.


James P. McCartney, George Harrison, John W. Lennon and Richard Starkey showing their medals. You didn’t think his parents named him Ringo, did you?

Sticking with music for the moment, lately I’ve really been enjoying For Your Love by the Yardbirds. It’s a catchy little number that’s been moving up the charts the last few weeks and unusually features a harpsichord. The band took over as the house band at the Crawdaddy Club in Richmond, England when the Rolling Stones went on to bigger things and then acted as the backing band for Sonny Boy Williamson when he toured Great Britain in early 1964. They’ve had a bit of airplay with some old blues numbers, but this is their first real hit. Alas, one man’s meat is another man’s poison. One of their guitarists, a young man by the name of Eric Clapton, has left the band, unhappy with the move to a more commercial sound. He’s since been replaced by Jeff Beck. Let’s hope that Mr. Clapton is content with the relative obscurity of the blues scene.

The Miracles of Technology

On June 14th, a test planned by American and French doctors and communications experts sent an electrocardiogram from a ship at sea to a hospital in France. The ECG was taken from a passenger aboard the SS France in the Atlantic Ocean and transmitted via facsimile machine first to Cornell University hospital, then RCA Communications, Intelsat, D'Liaisons Radiotelephotographiques de France and then to Boucicaut Hospital in Paris. The image that arrived in France was clear enough for doctors to use for diagnosis. Look for this technique to be used in earnest in the future.


Facsimile technology has been used in meteorology for several years. Its use in remote diagnostic medicine shows promise.

Eppur si muove

The British journal Nature dated June 19th included a paper by astronomers Gordon Pettengill and Rolf Dyce titled "A Radar Determination of the Rotation of the Planet Mercury". They have determined that the planet Mercury is not tidally locked to the sun, but rather has a rotation period of approximately 59 days. That means a day on Mercury is about two-thirds as long as its year. Bad news for Larry Niven, whose very first story, “The Coldest Place”, hinged on the planet always showing the same face to the sun, but those are the breaks in the science fiction game.

An IFfy stew

Speaking of science fiction (and the magazine Niven first appeared in) what is Fred Pohl putting on our plate in this month’s IF? Let’s take a look at the ingredients.


Retief makes his way across town. Art by Gaughan

Trick or Treaty, by Keith Laumer

Things are looking grim for the Terran cause on the planet Gaspierre. The planetary parliament is set to decide if they’re going to be neutral, on the side of the Terries, or support the warlike Krultch, and the presence of a Krultch warship heavily outweighs that of the CDT mission under Ambassador Sheepshorn. Anti-Terry riots are blowing up all over, and Krultch soldiers walk the streets with impunity.

We open with Retief using his usual good relations with the locals to get lodgings for a troupe of Terran entertainers (if four people can be said to constitute a troupe). On his way back to the embassy, Retief cripples a couple of Krultch soldiers (they did start it) and learns from the local police that the Terrans are confined to their embassy until the ambassador is due to make his speech to parliament. After a brief consultation with the ambassador, Retief escapes the embassy, makes his way across town and enlists the aid of the entertainers in tossing a monkey wrench in the Krultch plans. Will he succeed in tipping the balance in Earth’s favor? Of course, the only question is how. Will he win the favors of the lovely, red-headed acrobat with the tattoo? Unusually, no, or at least not on the page.


The Krultch captain gets the drop on Retief. Right where Retief wants him. Art by Gaughan

I’m on record as a fan of Retief, but even I have to admit that things are getting a little stale. To carry on with the stew analogy, this is an onion that’s gone a little spongy or a rubbery carrot. The means by which Retief and friends take the wind from the Krultch’s sails are deeply improbable, bordering on the ridiculous. On the plus side, Ambassador Sheepshorn is one of the best names Laumer has come up with in ages. Is that Sheeps-horn or Sheep-shorn? I suspect that the ambassador and the author have very different opinions on that. In any case, long-time readers of the series will likely find this one a bit dull, though newcomers might enjoy it more. However, it’s not the best entry point for the series. A low three stars.

Against the Odds, by John Brunner

On the planet Galrex, an apparent crank is making a scene outside the office of the Superintendent of Galactic Records, warning that the human race is in danger. Superintendent Motice Bain emerges from his office and agrees to listen to the man’s concerns.

Falkirk, as his name proves to be, once planned to make a career in archaeology studying the vanished civilization of the planet Gorgon. The story goes that the natives of Gorgon had learned to manipulate luck and ultimately bored themselves to death. The planet was originally found three or four hundred years earlier by one of the pioneering starscouts, Morgan Wade, who supposedly figured out the lost secret and ultimately became extremely wealthy. Eight or nine years before the time of the story and before Falkirk could go to Gorgon and begin digging, a starship made an emergency landing on the planet. It took several weeks for a needed spare part to arrive, but once the ship was repaired the crew managed to destroy all that was left of the ancient civilization when taking off. Now every member of that crew is the ruler of a planet. Falkirk is convinced that these ten men are going to take over the galaxy.

Using the example of the birthday problem, which shows that it takes a remarkably small number of people to ensure that two members of the group share a birthday, Bain points out to Falkirk that in a galaxy of two trillion people, it isn’t that unlikely for ten of them to become important. After a despondent Falkirk leaves, Bain gets down to business.

There’s a twist at the end of this tale that anybody who has been reading science fiction for more than a handful of years can see coming. It’s a reasonably well told story, but a far cry from the more modern sort of stories that Brunner is capable of writing. Apparently, IF is where he sends his more old-fashioned work. It’s not bad, it’s just not anything special. Three stars.

We Hunters of Men, by Bruce McAllister

Edmond Reud is out hunting scalps when he is attacked by another hunter. He kills the attacker and takes the other man’s scalp. Ignoring the “mind-prickling” that urges him to go toward the Minced Mountain, which touches the ocher-colored sky, he returns to the underground city to exchange his scalps for pellets. Eventually, he reaches the Minced Mountain and meets an old man trapped there by a broken leg. Without pellets, the old man has had his long-term memory return. Together, they solve the mystery of the “mind-prickling”.

Interspersed throughout this are naval communiques between a ship orbiting the planet Tinni and Base Roquefort. It seems that Tinni was one of twelve planets beset by the Judicians, who managed to close the planet in a charge field when they lost the war. The navy believes that the Judicans’ weapons were destroyed, but because they are physically weak they must have found some way to control the human population. They did manage to get a device through the field which will home in on charge field generators and send out cortex wave emissions to get humans to come and tinker with the generators.


The scalper scalped. Art by Giunta

This is McAllister’s second story, and it’s not very good. Clearly the pellets affect memory and are addictive, giving the Judicians a way to get the humans to kill each other, but I fail to see how the system was originally imposed. Further the tonal shift between the two narratives is rather jarring. That on the planet is somewhat grim and rather fitting to the circumstances, while the naval communiques are rather light and a bit jokey. On the other hand, McAllister is only 18 and does show some raw talent. If he spends some time working at his craft and honing his skills he could be a decent writer down the line. But this story? Two stars.

The Crater, by J. M. McFadden

Insurance investigator Johnny Andrews appears to be on vacation in Hawaii. Actually, he’s on the trail of a group that has hijacked two shipments of irillium somewhere between the asteroids (at a guess, it’s never specified) and landing at the docks in North Africa. Waikiki is a good spot to observe the ships entering parking orbit and firing their retrorockets for landing. He figures he’s on the right track, since a couple of suspicious characters have started watching him.

After observing the next hijacking from out beyond the surf line, he manages to get pictures of the two goons, but they grab him before he can contact his home office. He’s bundled into an interisland subway and taken to Wailuku, the main city on the rather rural island of Maui. Johnny escapes and takes refuge in Fenner’s Grill, the best Mexican restaurant in the islands run by a fellow of Chinese extraction who goes by the name Manuel. From Manuel (who is seemingly related to everyone on the island), Johnny learns of the mysterious group which has taken over the ranch in Haleakala crater. With Manuel’s help, he infiltrates the ranch and sets out to thwart the hijackers for good.


Manuel and Johnny discover some really high tech cattle ranching. Art by Nodel

McFadden is this month’s first-time author. According to Fred Pohl, he’s a former naval officer and has already sold another story to IF. Beginning authors are often advised “Write what you know.” I’d bet that McFadden spent a fair amount of time stationed in Hawaii and was likely a radar officer. Anyway, this one was a rather fun adventure tale with a good dose of humor. Maybe a bit of Keith Laumer influence here. Also Manuel is a great sidekick who feels like a real islander without being an offensive stereotype. Three stars.

Patron of the Arts, by Fred Saberhagen

As the Berserker fleet closed in on Sol, the artistic treasures of Earth were loaded aboard the museum ship Franz Hals to be carried to safety at Tau Epsilon. Aboard are a two man crew and famous artist Piers Herron, a man who has lost all interest in living and with it his ability to create. The ship is captured by a Berserker and the crew killed, but Herron is kept alive for observation. He attempts to paint the Berserker and he and the Berserker, using one of its smaller remote units, discuss the meaning of art on the basis of Titian’s Man with a Glove.

Herron tries to capture his captor, while the subject looks on. Art by Gaughan

I mentioned above that Retief is getting stale. Saberhagen has certainly avoided that problem in his Berserker series. Each of the stories has been very different, even when the settings have been similar, such as one or more people being held captive by the great killing machines. That’s most likely because these stories are really about people. In the hands of many other authors, this series would be one massive space battle after another, while with Saberhagen the one story that actually was about a space battle had a tight focus on some of the people involved.

This is an ambitious story, and while that ambition carries it a long way, it doesn’t quite hit the mark. There’s a subplot about a stowaway that really doesn’t work. If Roger Zelazny wrote a Berserker story, this might well be it, and he might have gotten all the way to where Saberhagen was trying to take it. A high three stars, and I mourn what could have given it that fourth.

Skylark DuQuesne (Part 3 of 5), by E. E. Smith

As DuQuesne watches, Dick Seaton launches a brutal counterattack against the mysterious force that struck at the end of the last episode. The Skylark of Valeron, grievously damaged, beats a hasty retreat, and DuQuesne slinks away toward Earth. Seaton has identified their attackers as Chlorans, the bad guys from the last book. Apparently, intelligent life which develops on any Earthlike (or Tellus-type, as Smith would have it) world will be human. They might be green or squat and hairless, but still human. Any intelligent life that develops on a world with a chlorine atmosphere will be Chlorans, and so on. Look, if you shout at every bit of nonsense science in this thing, you’ll lose your voice and probably frighten your neighbors. Just go with it.


The Skylark of Valeron takes a licking and keeps on ticking. Art by Gray Morrow

Seaton hatches a plan to find an enslaved human world in the Chloran controlled galaxy and find or create a resistance. That will give the Skylarkers a base of operations to fight the Chlorans. Naturally, all of the men volunteer to be the one to go down and carry out the plan while all of their wives object. They leave the choice of the best person to the ship’s Brain. It, of course, chooses Seaton. He goes down to the planet chosen by the Brain, meets the resistance, turns them into an effective fighting force and snatches the planet from the clutches of those humans who willingly serve their Chloran masters.

Meanwhile, DuQuesne returns to Earth and looks up Stephanie “Hunkie” de Marigny, brilliant scientist and the one woman who can come close to piercing the armor of cynicism and disdain he’s wrapped himself in. While his agents buy up all the materials he needs to build his own Valeron, Blackie and Hunkie go on a date (Dutch at her insistence). Afterwards, he hotfoots it off to the opposite side of the universe from the Chloran galaxy, finds an uninhabited Earthlike world and, using the plans he got from Seaton, builds his new ship, which he dubs the DQ.


Dick Seaton settles a labor dispute with his foreman. Art by Gray Morrow

Although the “wherefores” continue to fly, this installment is a small step up from last month. In fact, the stuff involving Seaton setting up his resistance movement actually isn’t all that bad. Of course, Smith crams a novel’s worth (or at least a novella’s) of material into 15 or 20 pages. DuQuesne also moves back toward being a slightly more complex villain than he was last time. Two stars.

Summing Up

So, what does the dish that Fred Pohl has given us look like overall? A couple of ingredients that aren’t as fresh as they might be, but are still acceptable; a couple of tasty morsels, not quite gourmet but good; one that’s not very good, but under normal circumstances would be drowned out by the other ingredients; and then there’s the giant lump of meat that’s really gone off at the end. Outside of Skylark, there does seem to be a slight uptick in quality over the way things have been over the last year or so. That or Skylark is making the rest of the stuff look good by comparison.

Every cloud, so they say, has a silver lining. Skylark has been a big black cloud lowering over IF for a while and will continue to do so for a couple of months. The demands it has made on space (originally intended to be just three installments) has made the editorial team take a look at some of their production procedures. Starting next month IF will have 32 more pages in every issue. Fred says that’s enough for two more novelettes, four or five short stories, a complete short novel, or an extra serial installment. Best of all, the price is staying at 50¢. Five months of Doc Smith is a heavy price to pay, and 32 pages isn’t going to make up for Amazing and Fantastic going bimonthly and running more reprints, but it’s a step in the right direction.






[June 30, 1965] Every Day has its Dog (July 1965 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

Hail the Sun God

Summer has officially begun.

On June 21, 1965, the northern hemisphere of Earth enjoyed its longest period of daylight (while in Australia, poor fellow traveler, Kaye Dee suffered through the longest night). The Summer Solstice is an event that once had great religious significance, but as the Mosaic religions spread across the globe, celebration of the day waned.

Today, with the rise of neo-druidism (the North American version of it having been related in articles by Erica Frank), the Solstice has once again become a holy day. And 1965's was particularly special: as the Fraternal Order of Druids gathered around Stonehenge, they were treated to the first uncloudy sunrise in 13 years.

With such an auspicious sign, one might expect that June (July cover date) would be a good one for science fiction magazines. Instead, what we got was a dreary muchness that was more akin to the overcast skies of prior Solstices. And no magazine more exemplifies this drabness than this month's Analog:

Noonday Overcast


by John Schoenherr

Trader Team (Part 1 of 2), by Poul Anderson


by John Schoenherr

Poul Anderson is the Cepheid variable of the science fiction genre: he pulses from brilliance to dullness with regularity. In the midpoints, he produces competent but longwinded stuff like the Van Rijn tales, which detail the exploits of a canny Terran trader trying to enhance his fortune in the Galactic "Polesotechnic League."

Trader Team features David Falkayn, a young cadet we last saw in the mediocre Three-Cornerned Wheel. Thanks to the ingenuity he displayed in that story, Falkayn has been tapped to be Van Rijn's apprentice, his first mission to open up trade on the backward planet of Ikrananka.

The story starts crackingly, introducing the four members of the crew of the Muddlin' Through: Falkayn, the young Captain; Chee, a furry, imprecation-throwing female from planet Cynthia; Adzel, the gentle saurian neo-Buddhist from Woden; and "Muddlehead", the ship's computer. The ship has been in virtual quarantine for several weeks as no representative of the planet's local feudal state will approach them.

Then, in the midst of an intense poker game, Falkayn espies a beautiful woman soldier fleeing from a troop of Ikranankan cavalry. He saves her and brings her aboard ship only to discover that he has given aid to a fugitive of the very polity he is trying to establish relations with!

So far so good, but the next thirty pages are a drag. There's some nice scientific worldbuilding, in which we learn Ikrananka is a one-face planet, that Stepha (the saved soldier) is one of the third generation of spacewrecked humans who now, as a race, hire themselves out as mercenaries, and that Ikrananka would make a nice planet for trade if only its disparate fiefdoms could be unified.

But the story itself meanders in that wordy, shaggy dog style that Poul defaults to when he's on autopilot. The scene in which Adzel gets roaringly drunk and then implicated in a human insurrection is played for laughs, but it's just tedious. When Chee is captured, too, the reaction it elicits is a yawn rather than concern.

And if I have to read another line about what Falkayn thinks of Stepha's physical form, I'll throw the book against the wall. It'd also be nice to see more non-romantic female characters in general (though I will concede that Chee being female is a step in the right direction).

A low three stars.

In the Light of Further Data, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

Data is an Anvil story in a Campbell-edited mag, so caveat emptor.

And your caution is justified. Data is a story in newspaper article excerpts of two intersecting threads. The first is the development of a miracle tissue regrowth process that quickly recruits millions of patients seeking replacements for lost teeth. The second is the battle between a professor who asserts that science is the foundation of truth, and the religious community who pushes back on the assertion.

In the end, said professor cheerfully gets a new mouth of choppers, just as it's determined that there is a fatal flaw in the regrowth technique. The punchline is he quits science and becomes a missionary.

The moral, I assume, is that those eggheads don't know everything. It's certainly a philosophy Campbell has flogged to death.

Anyway, it's a dumb story. Two stars.

Hands Full of Space, by Stephen A. Kallis, Jr.

We get a respite of sorts in the nonfiction article. It's about the difficulties of engineering for the intense harshness of space. Kallis tells us what happens to electronic components when exposed to zero pressure — they weld to each other, their surfaces vaporize and then coat other surfaces — and then there's the wear of hellish radiation and the danger from whizzing micrometeoroids.

It's all very informative and accessible, if a bit long and occasionally disjointed. When Analog's science piece is better than Ley's in Galaxy and Asimov's in F&SF, you know the world is truly inconstant!

Four stars.

Soupstone, by Gordon R. Dickson


by John Schoenherr

Here's another ingenue spaceman saves the day story. Soupstone is the sequel to Sleight of Wit, in which a clever human defeats an alien adversary largely by virtue of said alien being implausibly dim.

This time, Major Hank Shallo is sent to Crown World as a special trouble-shooter. The problem he must solve involves a crop of alien oversized grapes that would produce a most exquisite brandy in tremendous quantities if only they could keep them from rotting in the warehouses. It's all a matter of timing in the picking process, you see.

Shallo, an inept buffoon, is unable to solve the problem himself, but he is able to gather all the folks together who can solve the problem, and in doing so, sets them on their way to effecting the solution. And if you know the fable about making soup from a stone (I did) then you get the reference. And if you don't, don't worry — Dickson explains it for you.

Dickson is capable of much better than these "funny" stories, and once again, the ladies are included just for leering.

Two stars.

The Adventure of the Extraterrestrial, by Mack Reynolds


by John Schoenherr

It is rare that the science fiction and mystery genres overlap. Asimov's R. Daneel Olivaw tales and Garrett's Lord Darcy series pretty much round out the list. In Adventure, Reynolds crosses SF with The Detective, the one and only supersleuth of Baker Street (though neither Holmes nor Watson are ever mentioned by name).

An octogenarian Holmes is engaged by the spendthrift son of a rich gentleman. The son is putatively concerned for his father's mental health as he has engaged in a Fortean obsession with aliens, which have taken up residence in London, he maintains.

Reynolds is a good writer, and he executes a fair homage to the Doyle style. But while I enjoyed the story, I found Watson's constant and repetitive harping on Holmes to be offputting. And there are only so many times I need to be reminded of Holmes' age through note of his "senility," "chortling," "blathering," "dribbling," "inanity," etc. etc. Virtually every line includes a reference, and it's overmuch.

Also, and this is a small thing, Holmes' client talks of his father's obsession with "flying saucers." The story is indisputably set in the mid-to-late 1930s. Flying saucers did not become idiomatic vogue until after the war, in astonishing concert with the arrival of jet planes and rocketships. The anachronism vexed.

Still, it's the best story of the issue. A high three stars.

Though a Sparrow Fall, by Scott Nichols

One of those conversation pieces in which the story progresses in party dialogue. Turns out that the human genetic code has been written, or at least tampered with, such that a message has been buried within. By whom, and for whom, it is not known.

There's an interesting germ of a story here, almost something Theodore L. Thomas might address in his little column in F&SF. It doesn't really go anywhere, though.

Three stars.

Delivered with Feeling, by Lawrence A. Perkins


by Kelly Freas

At last, Mr. Perkins offers up another "lone man solves the problems of an alien world" story. This one deals with a planet whose disunion into dozens of profession-castes has made it easy prey for alien raiders. Because the invading planet and Earth are party to a mutual non-aggression pact, our protagonist can provide no material aid. Instead, he simply gives them a rallying slogan, which because of the unique qualities of the subjugated race, proves sufficient to throw off the alien onslaught.

The kicker, of course, is how the protagonist hatched his scheme. It's one of those technical puzzle stories that has been the stale bread and butter of the genre for decades. It's readable and forgettable.

Three stars.

A Dim Augury

Just one magazine cracked the three-star barrier this month: Fantasy and Science Fiction with 3.2 stars. IF and Science Fantasy were inoffensive three-star issues whilst (as Mark and Kris might say) New Worlds stumbled in at just 2.7. As this month's Analog scored a 2.8, it barely misses out on being the worst of the bunch.

And what a meager bunch it is! Without Galaxy and Worlds of Tomorrow (they're bimonthlies) and since the former Goldsmith mags, Amazing and Fantastic were on hiatus this month, there really wasn't much to read. Worse yet, there was just one woman-penned piece out of the 27 fiction stories published this month.

That the magazines were all fairly unremarkable, save perhaps for the unusually decent F&SF, just goes to show that even when the Sun God makes an appearance, it doesn't always herald good fortune.

Ah well. The Sun sets, but it also rises, and each day brings promise anew…


Sunrise, Roy Lichtenstein's latest masterpiece — see, this month wasn't all bad…






[June 28, 1965] An Hour Of My Life I Will Never Get Back (Doctor Who: The Chase [parts 4-6])


By Jessica Holmes

The title of this article says it all, really. This serial is… well, it’s really quite something, and I don’t mean that in a good way. So, to recap: the Daleks are chasing the TARDIS through time and space, taking them to exotic places like a desert world beset by monsters, a mysterious ghost ship, and… a New York tourism hot-spot. Let's see where they wind up next.

Image description: In the foreground there is a staircase with smoking braziers. In the midground are Barbara, Ian and Vicki. The Doctor is in the background.

JOURNEY INTO TERROR

Well, here we go, I suppose. The TARDIS makes a landing in a dusty old mansion, and the Doctor drags Ian off to explore while the women make the much more sensible choice to stay near the TARDIS. The mansion is quite thoroughly spooky, infested with bats and goodness knows what else.

It doesn’t take long for things to take a creepy turn, as skeletons drop from the ceiling and ghosts rudely barge through people.

And then Frankenstein’s Monster shows up.

No, really.

Image description: In the foreground, Frankenstein's Monster is sitting up, partially covered by the sheet. In the background, Ian and the Doctor regard him with apprehension.

The Doctor and Ian find a laboratory upstairs, and within, a familiar scene: the strange machinery, the lumpy shape under the tarp. And then the monster rises, giving the pair quite the fright.

Meanwhile, downstairs…

I cannot believe I’m typing this.

Downstairs, Barbara and Vicki meet Count Dracula.

Image description: Image is of a pale man with fangs (Count Dracula)

He doesn’t do much other than introduce himself and then leave. In the time Barbara takes to see where he went, Vicki manages to disappear, and a woman appears on the balcony above to scream something unintelligible. Nope, I have no idea what her problem is.

Anyway.

Barbara leans into a moving wall because no haunted house is complete without a few secret passageways.

Upstairs, the men note that something feels strangely familiar about the house. Oh, like the numerous public domain characters running about the place?

I’ll bet you Walt Disney had something to do with this.

The Doctor comes up with a theory on this house being some sort of physical manifestation of the collective fears of humanity. I don’t know what the physical manifestation of existential dread would be, but perhaps that’s a bit too heavy for teatime telly.

If his theory is true, the Daleks shouldn’t be able to land here, seeing as it's all just a figment of the imagination.

Image description: Image is of an entrance hall. In the midground are two Daleks and their time machine.

And a couple of minutes after making his case, the Daleks land. So much for that, then.

Ian and the Doctor can't find the women downstairs, and beginning to worry they reluctantly venture back into the laboratory, where a Dalek politely asks Ian where the time travellers are.

Let’s just take a moment to process this. You mean to tell me that the Daleks have been chasing these humans across time and space for three and a half episodes, and don’t even know what they look like?

Image description: Frankenstein's Monster stands in the centre of the frame, arms outstretched.

Ian and the Doctor scarper as Frankenstein’s Monster rises to do battle with the Dalek. Now, there’s a sentence I never imagined writing. Time to place your bets, folks. Who would win, the Monster or the Dalek?

You might be surprised.

The men make it back downstairs, where they manage to meet with the women again.  Where did they go and how did they get back? Pssh, who cares? It’s time for the Hammer Horror showdown.

A Dalek arrives on scene to accost the gang, but before it gets the chance to blast them to kingdom come, Count Dracula pops out. The group make a run for it while the Dalek is distracted, Vicki stopping to warn the Count of the grave danger he’s in. Bless.

Image description: In the foreground with their backs to the camera are Vicki, Ian and Barbara, with the Doctor partially visible. In the background are Dracula and a Dalek.

However, she needn’t worry, as the Dalek’s blast does nothing at all to him. Well, I say she needn't worry, but that's not quite true. The Count's fine, but the Doctor's neglected to do a headcount and the TARDIS just left without her.

Then things really descend into madness.

As the Count repeatedly informs the Daleks ‘III AAAM COOOUNT DRAAACULA’, Frankenstein’s Monster tosses the plunger-toting menace about like dustbins, and the woman on the balcony incessantly screams gibberish. Amidst the chaos, Vicki sneaks aboard the Dalek capsule.

Image description: A man lifts a Dalek over his head.

The Daleks, realising they’re beaten, beat a hasty machine into their own capsule. So, that wild fever dream is over. What was really going on, though?

The Doctor stands by his theory, but Ian thinks a simpler explantation is more likely. Sure enough, he’s right, though he'll never know it.

The cameraman lets us in on the secret by panning the camera down to the the ticket stand for ‘Frankenstein’s House Of Horrors’, $10 entry, which further signs indicate was the highlight of the "1996 Festival of Ghana." Well, it would have been if the event hadn’t been "cancelled by Peking."

Text reads: Frankensteins (sic) House Of Horrors, Price $10

I only have more questions now.

So, anyway, aboard the TARDIS the adults eventually realise they’ve left their ward behind. Mr Chesterton and Miss Wright, I am very disappointed in you. You’re meant to be the responsible ones.

Aboard the Dalek ship, they’re in hot pursuit, and about to deploy their secret weapon: a ‘perfect’ robot copy of the Doctor.

I will get to this in a moment.

Vicki attempts to contact the TARDIS to no avail. The rest of her team are feeling tremendously guilty as well they should. However, they apparently can’t go back for her for important time-travel reasons, but if they could capture the Dalek ship, they could get her in that.

Let’s just go with it.

On the Dalek ship, the roboDoctor is almost ready. Or perhaps I should call him Roboctor? Let’s have a look at him.

Image description: A man resembling the Doctor but with different facial features stands in a dark box

A perfect copy, the Daleks insist. Sure, apart from the face, the height, the build, the general bearing, and, well, everything about him. Hartnell voices him in a very dodgy dub. I don't know why he couldn't just play the doppleganger fully.

You know what? I’m going to call it Doctor What.

The final shot rolls in as Doctor What affirms his orders to infiltrate and destroy and this time… he is played by Hartnell. I despair. Why? I just do not understand. It’s so jarring.

Stick around, we’re not done yet.

Image description: Barbara, The Doctor and Ian stand amongst giant mushrooms

THE DEATH OF DOCTOR WHO

It might well be if things carry on like this.

The TARDIS lands in a swamp populated by walking mushrooms that are scared of bright lights. That’s neat, I suppose.

There’s a trail of lights overhead, which the companions decide to follow, reasoning that this might be a decent place to fight the Daleks. The Daleks arrive soon after and decide they should kill anything that moves, because of course they do.

Vicki creeps out from hiding and flees into the swamp, promptly running into a walking mushroom. It doesn’t kill her because ‘killed by a giant mushroom’ is too embarrassing a fate to foist upon any character. The universe won't abide it.

Image description: Ian and Barbara look at the Doctor as he shows them a lit wand.

The rest of the group find a cave at the end of the trail of lights, and in it they find a sort of glowing wand which they can use to ward off the mushrooms. It’s more of a glorified torch than a weapon, but that doesn’t stop Barbara waving it about and making adorable shooty sounds.

Ian’s been toting the Doctor's device around since they left the TARDIS, but the Doctor warns everybody that they can't use it in an enclosed space. Honestly I’m not convinced that it isn’t just a transistor radio. You could do some damage if you threw it hard enough at someone’s head, I suppose.

Image description: Ian looks off into the distance, holding a box similar in appearance to a homemade transistor radio.

Vicki manages to fight off the giant mushroom because, well. It’s a mushroom. She finds the TARDIS, but it’s locked, and the mushroom is still following her. Maybe it just wants to be her friend? Consider the mushroom’s feelings, Vicki.

Having tried absolutely nothing to get out of her situation such as, I don’t know, running away and looking for the others, Vicki is all out of ideas. And as you do when you run out of ideas, she starts screaming her head off.

Though they’re probably miles away, the rest of the gang hear her, and the men run out to see what’s making that dreadful racket. With them gone, Doctor What slips into the cave.

The Doctor and Ian find Vicki unconscious with a mushroom standing over her. Now, this looks bad for the mushroom, but I have to reiterate that it’s a mushroom and probably can’t hurt anyone, unless Vicki tried eating it, I suppose. I bet she just fainted.

Doctor What continues to frustrate me as the episode keeps flipping between having him played by Hartnell and Hartnell's double. It’s just so visually confusing.

Doctor What tells Barbara that Ian’s dead, and she could try acting a little sadder if you ask me. He lures her out of the cave to look for his body, and the real Doctor and Ian come back to find her gone. While Ian goes to look for her, the Doctor stays to look after Vicki.

Image description: Vicki lies on the floor while the doctor crouches over her, feeling her forehead.

However, upon awakening to find the Doctor leaning over her, Vicki panics and hits him, thinking that he’s Doctor What. It’s then that Ian returns, and they work out what must have happened to Barbara.

Ian manages to have an appropriately horrified reaction to Barbara being in mortal danger, and runs out to look for her.

Hearing Ian calling out for her, Barbara is overjoyed to realise he’s alive, but her joy turns to horror as Doctor What attacks her. Luckily Ian’s soon on the scene and Doctor What beats a hasty retreat.

Image description: In the foreground is the Doctor with his back to the camera. Vicki, Ian and Barbara are in the midground. There is another Doctor in the background facing the first Doctor.

They return to the cave, but the gang seems to have acquired an extra Doctor.

One tries to attack the other, but Ian intervenes, to which this Doctor threatens him too. Well, that was a clever idea, wasn’t it? The very-obviously-not-Hartnell Doctor watches from the sidelines, urging Ian to destroy the ‘fake’ Doctor with a rock.

However, before Ian gets the chance (he didn’t even pause to think!), Barbara realises the deception and stops him.

Now comes the one point in the serial where there’s any point to using the double: a Doctor fight!

Image description: The two Doctors duel with their canes. The real Doctor is on the left.

Ah, but which Doctor won? Now, that would have been fun to play with, but nothing comes of it, so I’ll chalk this up as a missed opportunity.

The Daleks find the TARDIS, but come under attack by a mushroom and decide to call it a night. Meanwhile, the companions get some rest. Their presence hasn’t gone unnoticed, however. As they sleep, a camera descends from the ceiling and observes them.

Upon awakening, the companions spot a city suspended high above the canopy. It’s a nice design, very organic, so a thumbs up from me to the art department.

Image description: A cardboard miniature of a city built on large, tree-like stilts.

However, they might pay more attention to the sights at ground level, as the Daleks have found their cave.

Ian comes up with the bright idea for the Doctor to pretend to be the robot, and as the group argues over whether that’s a good idea (and decides that it’s not), the Doctor, listening in the background, heads outside to give it a go. I’m proud of him. He’d never have taken a risk like that back when he first met the Daleks, now here he goes putting himself in danger to help his friends.

Still, the companions weren’t wrong when they decided it was a bad idea, as it only takes a Dalek about ten seconds to realise that the Doctor isn’t a robot, and the Doctor flees back into the cave as the Dalek shoots at him, shaken up but unharmed. Ah, well. It was worth a try.

Image description: Ian, Barbara and Vicki support the Doctor

He’s about to use his device as a last resort when the rear wall of the cave opens up to reveal a massive Christmas tree ornament. This thing is called a Mechanoid, and it sounds like a Dalek that’s lost its voice from all the screaming. With no better options, the gang decide to follow it.

There’s one good thing I can say about this point of the serial: one more episode and it’s over!

Image description: A machine shaped like a geodesic sphere sits in a lit doorway.

THE PLANET OF DECISION

The group follow the Mechanoid into a lift, and it’s just as awkward as any time one shares a lift (or ‘elevator’ for the Americans) with a perfect stranger, with the Mechanoid ignoring any and all attempts at small talk.

The Daleks are momentarily confused to find the cave empty, but soon realise that the group must have escaped through a wall somehow.

The lift arrives at its destination on the elevated walkway, and the group begin to make their way to the city. The Mechanoid meets another Mechanoid and they perform a strange gesture which could be a greeting, but could just be a result of them being too bulbous to move past one another.

Image description: Two Mechanoids.

The Mechanoid takes them to a building and ushers them inside, where they find a bed, some scaffolding, and a man by the name of Steven Taylor. You might find him a little familiar, as his actor, Peter Purves, appeared a few episodes ago as the man from Alabama at the top of the Empire State Building.

Honestly, Steven might be the one new character in this whole serial I don’t loathe. In fact, I’d go so far as to say I really rather like him. He’s a little odd, as anyone would be after two years of isolation, but he’s a nice bloke and good-humoured.

Image description: A young man with a hopeful expression.

Steven explains that Earth decided to colonise this world about fifty years ago and sent the Mechanoids on ahead to get started on the building, but then humanity got itself involved in another war and all plans for colonisation fell by the wayside. Cool, but I have to ask how do the Mechanoids build anything? Look at them! They’re less dextrous than Daleks, and that’s saying something.

He’s been their prisoner since he crash-landed two years ago, and it looks like the companions are the new exhibits in the Mechanoids’ human zoo. Why are the Mechanoids keeping people like zoo animals? Honestly no idea.

Image description: One Dalek in the foreground facing away from the camera. Another Dalek in the background facing towards the camera, standing in a lit doorway.

The Daleks manage to get at the lift shaft and head in, despite reservations about the potential firepower of the Mechanoids. I think the Daleks might have been humbled a little by their string of misadventures.

It turns out that the scaffolding in the human pen leads up to the roof, which is unguarded. That’s all well and good, but it’s 1500 feet up. Bit of a big jump.

The Doctor finally thinks to mention that he has a functioning spaceship, giving Steven hope that they might finally escape. Ian finds a coil of cable, and while he unravels it, the Doctor reports to the girls the plan to climb down. They aren’t terribly keen, to say the least.

Image description: Barbara, Ian, the Doctor and Steven hold onto a rope that is tied around Vicki's waist. Vicki is blindfolded.

However, they don’t get chance to protest too much, as the Daleks arrive at the city for a showdown with the Mechanoids. Everyone rushes onto the roof and prepares to get going, as the Doctor primes his device, leaving a little something for the Daleks to remember him by.

They have to blindfold Vicki and tie the cable around her waist to get her down, but otherwise that part of the plan goes without a hitch as the Doctor’s device explodes and incapacitates exactly one Dalek. However, Steven realises he left his lucky stuffed panda mascot behind and rushes back into the burning building to look for it.

Oh, and the Daleks and Mechanoids fight. Being as awkward and unwieldy as the pair are, it’s about as thrilling as you’d expect. The Mechanoids do have flamethrowers though, which I suppose is neat. Honestly I’m rooting for the Daleks in this fight,  because I find the Mechanoids’ voices that annoying.

Image description: Three Mechanoids surround a Dalek.

The companions make it down to the forest floor sans Steven, and moments later the city collapses in flames.

The group make it to the Dalek time capsule, and find it empty. They’ve won.

So, what do you do with a spare time-and-space-ship? You go home in it, that’s what.

Though it seems the programme forgot about it long ago, Ian and Barbara have been trying to get back home since they first came aboard the TARDIS, hindered by circumstance and the Doctor’s dodgy piloting skills. Here’s their chance to get home, and they’re going to take it.

I am deeply, deeply annoyed that this couldn’t have come at the end of a better serial.

At least Steven turns out to be alive after all.

The Doctor is apoplectic at the suggestion of the teachers piloting the Dalek ship home, citing the immense risks involved. And, well, I think he got rather used to having them around.

It gets quite heated as Ian complains that he’s tired of all this aimless drifting through space, which is basically the Doctor’s entire way of life. The Doctor insists he’s been trying to get them home all this time, seeing as he never wanted them aboard to begin with.

Image description: In the foreground, Barbara talks to the Doctor. Both appear angry. Ian glares at the Doctor from the background.

It’s only when Vicki intervenes and reassures the Doctor that she won’t leave him alone that he finally relents and shows the teachers how to work the machine.

The Doctor and Vicki leave them to it, the Doctor saying that it’s fifty-fifty whether they make it or not. The Dalek machine dematerialises. Did they make it?

Welcome to London, 1965. Newest arrivals: Ian Chesterton and Barbara Wright.

Image description: Ian with his arm around Barbara in front of a 'No Parking' sign. Both appear very happy.

Ian sets the machine to self-destruct and then the pair run off into a photo montage in which they’re attacked by pigeons, make silly faces and just generally lark about London like a couple of drunken students. It’s sweet seeing them being so overjoyed to get back home, and when they eventually flop onto a bus seat and ask for the wrong fare, Ian has the perfect answer when the conductor asks him if he’s been living on the moon: “No, but you’re getting warm.”

The Doctor and Vicki survey them on the Space Telly, and though Vicki is thrilled to see they made it safely, the Doctor is thoroughly down in the dumps. Tearfully he admits that he shall miss Ian and Barbara, and I think my heart just broke a little bit.

Image description: Vicki and the Doctor stand in front of the Time And Space Visualiser. Vicki is smiling, but the Doctor appears morose.

Final Thoughts

I think we can all agree that that ending deserved a better serial than The Chase. Ian and Barbara deserved a better final story than The Chase. William Russell and Jacqueline Hill certainly deserved a better serial to end on.

I think I’ve gone on for long enough about this serial’s many failings: the meandering plot, the frequent slow moments, the way it renders the Daleks as more of a joke than a menace, and that’s without mentioning the Dracula in the room. Oh, and the humour's pretty weak, too.

So, that said, let’s give Ian and Barbara some love. I noted earlier that I don’t think the Doctor would have pulled his stunt with the Dalek had this situation come up back when he first met them. What changed his character for the better? Ian and Barbara. Back in The Daleks, they’d barely met him, yet they’d already stopped him from acting on his worst impulses in the previous serial, steering him away from homicide. From the start they’ve been the moral backbone of the show, supporting the Doctor as he developed one of his own. The character we see in this serial is almost an entirely different person from the selfish, grouchy man in the junkyard.

For much of the show’s run, I’ve seen Ian and Barbara as the only real adults in the group. While they were introduced to the show to give it an educational component, I think we can agree the scholarly side of that has fallen by the wayside. What didn’t, however, was the moral education they gave both the audience and the other characters. They constantly challenged the Doctor and the people they met to rise to a better standard. And although we can’t say for certain the impact they left on all the people they left behind, the result with the Doctor speaks for itself.

It would have been easy for Ian and Barbara to have become irritating and sanctimonious, but they managed to remain thoroughly likable throughout their travels. Part of that must surely go to the talent and charm of Russell and Hill, who I’m sure have long, successful careers ahead of them. They made a fantastic pair. Though I’m sad to see them both go, I must admit that it makes sense, as having one without the other wouldn’t be the same.

So, thank you, Ian and Barbara. Thank you William and Jacqueline. And thank you all for your continued interest in all things Doctor Who.

2 out of 5 stars





[June 26, 1965] Disappointing Duo (June Galactoscope #2)


by Rosemary Benton

Modern Man, Primitive Man (Robert Nathan's The Mallot Diaries)

The Mallot Diaries is a new science fiction drama from novelist Robert Nathan. The author, best known for his 1940 fantasy mystery novel Portrait of Jennie, is a highly prolific individual whose style primarily balances satirical allegories with poetic waxing on the transient nature of the world.  

Given that he has some stories which have been categorized as supernatural/horror and generally fantastical, I was eager to pick up what I thought would be a merger of high literary talent exploring themes commonly found in popular literature. A story about modern man interacting with a species lost out of time? Now that’s a fruitful area for an author such as Nathan! What The Mallot Diaries turned out to be was far more unsettling.

 

First Contact

The book takes place in the present day within the remote regions of Arizona. It is written from the titular firsthand accounts of an Associate of Anthropology at Meriden College named Professor Mallot. He, along with his fellow academic Professor Osgood, Curator of the Archaeological Wing of the Museum of Natural History in Yuma, set out to look into rumors of an elusive tribe of indigenous peoples who have resisted contact with the outside world. Their inquiries with a local Apache man quickly lead them to the very people they seek. Having made contact with the tribe, they soon deduce that the people are actually the remnants of a Neanderthal group who are part of the Bear worshipers that Mallot is studying.  

The elected leader of the tribe welcomes them after they provide reassurances that the purpose of their visit is neither to kill his people or "take away their god".  This tribal leader, or "Jefe", declares that the two men may stay with them in order to act as historians who will document the history and culture of the People of the Bear. Things quickly get messy, however, when the internal power struggles of the tribe begin to draw the outside observers in – both due to their desire to document the People of the Bear, and because of their own weaknesses of the flesh.  

The World Before Recorded History

The modern-day discovery of a lost tribe of Neanderthals is a solid enough base for a good story. Nathan does an admittedly decent job of working in the wonder and respect that his main characters feel as they begin to understand the world of their hosts. It’s refreshing to read a story in which the modern world explorers would be able to appreciate that the only real differences which separate modern humans from their primitive roots are as superficial as looks or clothing choices.  

It’s pessimistic, but Nathan writes on page 73, "I often think of Professor Osgood's remark, that man has not changed in a hundred thousand years. He is still a scoundrel". To this point he again and again drives home the facts that things such as wealth, status, lust and ambition are as alive and well in the predecessors of homo sapiens as they are in modern man himself. At times these parallels come off as a little too trite, however.  

The Youth Revolution

Perfect examples of this are the implications within the buildup to the children's revolution at the climax of the book. This plot thread is clearly a thinly veiled satire of today's youth culture. Under the current leadership of the tribe, children (meaning anyone under the age of 21) are not subjected to any forms of rules or consequences for their bad behavior.

The Jefe indulgently dismisses rude or violent acts as just youthful arrogance. Ultimately this lack of discipline for any crimes, from adultery to assault, results in the 109 children of the tribe taking up spears and killing the elders.  

Heavy handed satire aside, by far the worst flaw of Nathan's book is the sensuality with which young girls are described and the societal sexualization of the youths in the tribe, some of whom are as young as eight years old.

As the story progresses and the anthropologists learn more about the internal politics and social structure of the tribe, both of Nathan's protagonists develop very disturbing feelings for two of the young girls, one of whom is twelve and the other is between the ages of fourteen and sixteen.  

Highly Disturbing

This attraction is in part explained as being an effect of the two professors integrating into the tribe. Thirteen is the current age of consent amongst the Neanderthals and young girls and boys are not strictly forbidden from sexual exchanges, but it’s still a very disquieting turn in the story that comes into play over and over again.

The touting of pedophilia as romantic, cute and "basic human nature" frankly ruins the experience of reading The Mallot Diaries, and because of it I can’t recommend this book at all. 

If Nathan was trying to write the next Lolita he has not succeeded. I have to give this book only a half star. Even with the pointed realizations about humanity which Nathan occasionally drops during the plot, the fetishization of young girls as well as the repeated attempts to write blatant pedophilia off as star crossed love makes The Mallot Diaries a book that is best avoided at all costs.  



By Jason Sacks

On a much lighter note…

Sometimes it's exhilarating to read a book that seems to be positively overflowing with ideas, a book where the author seems thrilled to share a whole universe of concepts and drag an empathetic reader along in a journey that feels complex and rich, even if the book is short.

And sometimes it's just exhausting to read a book like that.

The Martian Sphinx, by Keith Woodcott

The Martian Sphinx, by journeyman science fiction author Keith Woodcott, is an exhausting book.  It's full of clever moments, great excitement, and some intriguing alien races. Sadly,  in this case, the whole of this brief 160-page Ace novel is not greater than the sum of its parts.

The Cork Floats to the Top

The protagonist of this novel is a graduate student named Jason Lombard, who is attending the finest college in Africa but who is ostracized due to his European birthplace. Lombard may be part of a miserable minority, but his brilliance wins the day. Despite his neurotic worries, Lombard is a genius level scientist who has thought through the deeply troubling problem of the Earth's decaying orbit around the sun.

Lombard comes across as a compelling character in the early chapters of this book, albeit in the Philip K. Dick tradition. Jason is a worrier, an outsider, a man who feels deeply ostracized from the university he's attending. It's hard not to see in Lombard echoes of the children integrating Southern elementary schools and college these days, though filtered through a different sort of personality.

I would happily have read a whole book exploring Lombard's world, with its overpopulated Europe and the advancement of the Red Chinese to the top of the world's most advanced societies. Sadly, Woodcott wanders elsewhere before exploring that theme enough to satisfy the reader's curiosity. I wish he had taken a stand to explore the problems of overpopulation, as that problem seems richly deserving of exploration in sci-fi.

The Power of Gravi

A second intriguing theme in The Martian Sphinx depicts how the world has moved beyond its dependence on fossil fuels and has learned to use a safe and endless source of power which is all around us. Gravipower sends a spaceship into space, provides all the energy the world needs, and essentially acts as a magic handwaving plot device to move the story along.

Again, the development of gravipower would alone have been enough for an entertaining book, because its effects on the book's characters is intriguing. But, again, we just don't get to spend much time considering what is essentially only a plot device.

First Contact

Instead, the heart of the book is a trip Lombard and a team of astronauts take to Mars to investigate a strange alien contraption dubbed "The Martian Sphinx." I'll get to the "Sphinx" in a paragraph or two, but first I should mention the aliens who are also questing after the object.

Two races swiftly land on Mars when the Terrans land there, and both alien races are bizarre, unique and totally fascinating in their vast differences from mankind. One race attacks the other, and the effects of the battle make up some of the most passionately written sections of the novel. Though these creatures are as different from people as insects are from us, readers are still made to feel the aliens' pain and fear. I was legitimately moved by a scene in which a number of the beings slowly die due to the battle.

In a way, their very alienness added to the pathos of those those scenes. Readers feel themselves in the boots of Lombard and his companions, struggling to make sense of the cryptic, unexplained war that lands on humanity's doorstep and the terrible toll that war takes on everyone involved. Again, this section alone might make for an intriguing novel of its own, maybe as a parable for our deepening conflict in Vietnam.

Not this Sphinx…

The Sphinx

Lastly, at the heart of the book but far from the center of its action is the "martian sphinx" of the book's title. An alien obelisk on our nearest planetary companion, the sphinx is a perplexing object which bespeaks of a long-lost alien civilization and seems to promise a fascinating future for humanity.

Woodcott makes the sphinx intriguing but it ultimately delivers mostly riddles rather than answers. Though that makes its name appropriate, the sphinx also deserves more than the space it receives here to begin to reveal its secrets. It's a rich enough idea for a whole series of novels, and I hope Woodcott can write those novels.

One of Mr. Woodcott's previous novels

Few Riddles Answered

The Martian Sphinx is Woodcott's fourth published novel and it overflows with ideas. Sadly, perhaps due to the brevity of this book, none of those ideas pay off in fulfilling ways. It's easy to ponder how a writer like Philip K. Dick or John Brunner might explore these ideas which read similar to some of their best work. Sadly Woodcott is no Brunner and this novel just doesn't fulfill its considerable potential.

3 stars.

[I am looking forward to the interesting mail we receive in regard to Jason's last statement. I suppose Woodcott is no Brunner much like Winston P. Sanders is no Poul Anderson and Cordwainer Bird is definitely no Harlan Ellison…]





[June 24, 1965] Wasps, Warriors and Aldiss (Science Fantasy and New Worlds, July 1965)


by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

Do you remember in my article last month when I summed up by saying that Science Fantasy was all new writers of limited readability and New Worlds relied on its cohort of now fairly well-established writers?

Well, the Editors were clearly listening to me (as if!), as this month they've swapped positions. We have some major changes this month in both magazines.

Let’s start with the issue that arrived first in the post this month: the July issue of Science Fantasy.

Well, it is Summer here and the latest cover by the prolific Keith Roberts reflects that.

I must admit that (for a change) I actually like the painting of this cover, although the subject matter is one I personally dislike – I hate wasps. But it does what the cover is meant to do, which is make you interested in the issue. It also refers to Mr. Roberts’s new novel, the first part of which fills this issue. More later.

Onto the editorial, which continues the discussion Kyril started last issue – which was “The job of a critic consists of knowing when he is being bored, and why", or rather that of the importance of readability when discussing or – heaven forbid! – criticising prose. In this issue we get more to the point, when Kyril suggests for the SF community “our sort of fiction has its roots firmly in the pulp magazines and since these survive by the casual, non-enthusiast readers and not by the relatively few ‘fans’, readability must be a major consideration.” I think he has a point, although the New Worlds way, currently under the guidance of Mike Moorcock seems to want to change that by producing more challenging and less linear prose than that. Some might say less readable.

He then goes on to say that science fiction is shackled by its own conventions in as much of a way as the detective novel is. He finishes with a gloomy prophecy, that “…when I look at the future through the bottom of my ale-glass I can see about as much hope for the future of science fiction as we have known it as there is for the detective-novel unless this insistence on novelty relaxes. It cannot hope to be accepted as part of the mainstream whilst bound by the conventions more rigid than the ones it claims to be destroying.”

So: we must change, or die, move on from the past to form a new future. Yet remain readable. There’s a rallying manifesto for the New Wave if ever I saw one. It’s been said before by both Kyril and Moorcock but this lays itself out clearly, presumably for those new readers.

To the stories themselves.

The Furies (Part 1 of 3), by Keith Roberts

You might have noticed my comments about Roberts in the past few months, whether under his own name or a pseudonym (I’ll come back to this later.) As I’m being favourable it must be said that we’ve seen a variety of stories in terms of style – post-apocalyptic ones, scary ones, humorous ones, and ones of Fantasy, such as the Anita stories, as well as science fiction, all of varying quality and success.

This, however, is Mr. Roberts’ first novel, in the first of three parts. There’s clearly some confidence being shown here, as it takes up nearly 100 pages of the 130-page magazine. As the cover shows us, it is a story of wasps. It begins relatively innocently. Bill Sampson, a cartoonist, has bought a building in the rural village of Brockledean, Wiltshire. He’s very happy working, visiting the local pub and generally getting on with life with his Great Dane Sek.

One day his teenage neighbour Jane Beddoes-Smythe (how British is that name?) wanders in to say “Hello”. They build a platonic relationship whilst Jane is staying in the area for the Summer holidays. During this time there are reports of attacks by wasps, which seem a little far-fetched but really of no consequence. More urgent is the global testing of nuclear weapons currently going on under the seabed.

When our heroes are attacked by a swarm of the afore-mentioned wasps, they soon find that the insects in this case are different to the normal. These are three feet in size, can fly through brick walls and windows, have a sting that can punch through steel plate and mandibles strong enough to decapitate a person. (There are some gruesome descriptions in this story to make that point.)

And if that wasn’t enough, whilst being attacked by the wasps there are earthquakes. The nuclear tests have caused them, destroying Bill’s house. When they eventually escape, they find very few survivors – it seems that whole villages have been destroyed by either the earthquakes or the wasps. Bill and Jane meet an armoured patrol car commanded by Lieutenant Neil Connor, and with Sergeant Ted Willis, the group make a run for the coast. Much of the rest of this part of the story is about their journey towards Weymouth and the challenges they face.

Even if I didn't hate wasps, this story is quite chilling. Whilst my initial impression was that it was going to be in the style of a British Horror B-movie, the story is subtler than that. Roberts sets up a British rural idyll – Sampson living a contented life in the British countryside in a converted public house – and then turns it into something horrendous. Though the added complication of earthquakes happening at the same time as the wasps appearing may be a little too far-fetched, the story is quite shocking in its depiction of the havoc caused by the wasps. Are the wasps a result of the nuclear tests, or are they just taking advantage? It’s not clear (yet.) They are fierce and clever, which leads to some discussion of insect intelligence, which may be as strange as any alien intelligence we ever encounter.

Perhaps the story’s strength is how it visualises the British rural landscape. Roberts has always used descriptions of nature in his work and the Wiltshire setting is nicely done, which makes the impact of this unusual threat all the more jarring. This is a story of 'normal' people trying to survive against adversity.

Despite the appearance of a Granny Thompson-like old lady, in the form of Mrs Sitwell, this is by far Keith Roberts' best work to date. And a great cliffhanger ending. 4 out of 5.

A Distorting Mirror, by R. W. Mackelworth

The second story in two months by Mackelworth, after his story Last Man Home in New Worlds last month. A Distorting Mirror is a story of drug-induced murder in order to climb the occupational career ladder, or at least gain access to housing. The mega-Corporation uses the drugs to determine an employee’s desires, which allows lots of weird-looking goings on and in this case causes the main character to murder his wife when he realises that a) she is competition, and b) he cannot give her what she most desires. All a bit far-fetched for me. 2 out of 5.

The Door, by Alastair Bevan

This one’s a little sneaky, as if you’ve been following closely over the past few months you may have noticed me saying that “Alastair Bevan” is actually…. Keith Roberts!

The ‘Door’ of the title is that which connects the underground Orange City with the world outside. Naylor is attempting to break through it, as it hasn’t been opened for years. A one-point, twist-in-the-tale story about what Naylor discovers once he has broken through. This is a weaker Roberts effort, which makes me think of what an inferior version of The Twilight Zone would be like.
2 out of 5.

The Criminal, by Johnny Byrne

And lastly, a very short story from Mr. Byrne. His return (Johnny was last seen with the very odd Harvest in the January/February 1965 issue) will be greeted with enthusiasm by some readers, although not usually by me, as I find his stories generally too strange for my personal tastes.

However, this very short story is more accessible. A naked man is unceremoniously dumped by a spaceship outside a supermarket. The man explains that this is a punishment because he has been found guilty of a crime. The inevitable twist in the story is who the man says has appeared on Earth as a punishment before him. This short-short story makes its point, then leaves, quickly.  3 out of 5.

Summing up Science Fantasy

And that’s it from Science Fantasy this month – a mere four stories, a bit of a shock after the seven of last month. And two of those are by the same author. But The Furies is shockingly good and may even deserve the generous space given to it this issue.

Let’s go to my second magazine.

The Second Issue At Hand

Look! No squares, blur or abstract shapes! This month’s cover, by artist unknown, has a picture you can actually recognise, and it is connected to one of the stories! It still looks pretty basic, admittedly, (compare it with those US covers you get!) but it shows some idea of y'know, relevance. That can only be a good thing, can’t it?

Having tackled the idea of “What is Science Fiction?” last month, Mike Moorcock continues his rhetoric with a debate about whether SF should be about “Space stories” anymore. It has come up in the Letters pages before. Under the title Does Space Still Come Naturally?, Moorcock uses the editorial pages to say that it has but should also make way for the ‘new’ Science Fiction, that of inner space and changing states. He sums it up thus: “Unless a magazine is to become nothing more than a collection of popular engineering articles thinly described as fiction – as has happened to at least one magazine in recent years – then it must look around for something fresh, must encourage something fresh.” I wonder which magazine he is describing? Hmm.

I’m not a gambling person, but after his comments last month, I’m thinking it must be John W. Campbell’s Analog myself. You can, of course, suggest your own.

Both New Worlds and Science Fantasy seem to be putting forward a united front on this idea of the need for fresh new ideas this month. Clearly both Editors feel the eyes of other Editors on them at the moment, and this is them setting out their respective stalls.

Moorcock takes this one step further:


A Moorcock rallying call – I'm not sure I agree with the bold statement he's making, but it is impressive.

Remember last month when I said that New Worlds seems to be relying on using its well-established repertoire of writers?

Moorcock ends with a not-so-subtle musing: should the magazine expand its size? This is followed by the point that to do so, it would have to raise its price from 2s. 6d to 3s 6d. I await the response in the Letters pages.

To the stories!

Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Lone Zone, by Charles Platt

After Mr Platt’s amusingly grumpy review of Brian Aldiss’s Earthworks last issue, we now have fiction of his own. It’s a story of inertia and decay that verges on the Ballardian. In the future we have had huge Linear Cities built, but not the population to fill them. Large areas of the cities are now Lone Zones, where abandoned people are left to fend for themselves.

The depressing drabness and sense of decay throughout makes it all feel like a city in a Communist state to me, but the Loners scavenging the buildings for food and everything they need seem like young rebellious types. At the other social extreme, we have Civics, living in an ordered world where everything they do is provided for, organised and programmed.

This story is about what happens when Johnson, a Civic, appears in the Lone Zone of Linear City 7, wanting to live like the Loners and learn about how they live. It’s not an easy choice – the last Civic that did that was hanged in a matter of days. Johnson meets Vincent, the leader of a group of Loners, and tries to tag along with the group.

This is treated with some degree of wariness on the group's part, because other Loners may see them as ‘Civic-Lovers’ and mark them as a target for attack. However, most of the story is about what Johnson discovers about how the Loners live and the deserted decrepit city where they live. It doesn’t end well.

It’s not a bad story, that basically compares the generational differences between the lives of young and old. You could see it as a metaphor story of future free-wheeling hippies versus the staid establishment, if you like. But it is all a bit depressing, and the ending reflects that. 3 out of 5

The Leveller, by Langdon Jones


Illustration by Gilmore

And now it is the Assistant Editor’s turn, with another tale of Inner Space. A man wakes up in a hospital room, aware of his surroundings but is unable to communicate with the world around him. Looking around him, he seems to have left his dying physical body. Whilst watching he finds himself talking to a range of odd creatures – a toad, then a swordsman and then to an ex-lover – in some kind of delusional psychedelic experience just before the body seems to die. The twist in the tale is as predictable as it could be. Again, not bad but nothing particularly revelatory. 2 out of 5.

The Silent Ship, by E. C. Williams

This one has a touch of Quatermass about it. A spaceship returning from Ceres crashes on Earth after no contact is able to be made with the pilot, Grasp. A representative of the firm he is working for is sent to investigate. The pilot is alive but babbling and is taken to hospital. When the ship is studied there is nothing else onboard but some silica rocks.

Tests at the hospital show that Grasp is dying and has no white corpuscles left in his body. The last half of the story shows us what has happened to Grasp. Out on Ceres he has found microscopic life in the rocks. After observing them, Godlike for a while, the ‘fleas’ (as he calls them) invade his body. Grasp is driven by the fleas to return to Earth, where the infection dies upon exposure to Earth’s microbes and kills Grasp. Good old H G Wells!

It’s OK, though I thought the idea of micro-civilizations had gone out with Superman’s Kandor. 3 out of 5.

A Funny Thing Happened, by Dikk Richardson

Oh no. Just the title… this is going to be one of those stories that tries to be funny, isn’t it? A one-page shaggy dog story that involves the Easter Island statues. Awful. 1 out of 5.

A Light in the Sky, by Richard A. Gordon

A debut story which, like a few others recently, channels Edgar Rice Burroughs or Robert E. Howard with Arabian panache before revealing something more science-fictional. It’s OK but I saw the end coming a long time before I read it. 3 out of 5.

Supercity, by Brian W. Aldiss

Ah, now that’s more like it! Good old dependable Brian. (Have I said in the last few minutes that he will be Guest of Honour at next month’s Worldcon in London? No? I am slacking!) Ah – hang on. This is a reprint, a story that was first published in 1957. The third word in the story gave it away to me, being part of the title of an early Aldiss story collection. Just to put that in perspective, 1957 was the year of the first Sputnik. (Yes, that long ago!)

This is an Aldiss story that playfully satirizes societies and plays with language. This even happens with the title, because Brian is at pains from the start to point out that Supercity is not what most readers would expect from the word – a story of Trantorian urbanisation (super-city) – but is instead su-per-city – “the art of becoming indispensable through being thoroughly useless”. It is a story of bureaucracy and how ineptitude can sometimes get you to the top of the pile. Its wryly amusing, fast paced and quite irreverent – just what you need in a Worldcon Guest of Honour!

As good as Supercity is, the issue for me here is that this is not a new story. I suspect the main reason Supercity is here is to remind us what a top-class author Brian is. (Have I said in the last few minutes that he will be Guest of Honour at next month’s Worldcon in London? Really?)

Gloriously ridiculous and yet somehow, for all of its silliness, it has a ring of truth about it. Worth a reprint. 4 out of 5.

The Night of the Gyul, by Colin R Fry

A post-apocalyptic story where some sort of devolved human meets a Boi and a Gyul who wish to travel in a Bote to Frahnts, where lies Paradise.

One of those stories that talks a lot and plays with language in a way that Moorcock seems to love, but actually doesn’t have a lot to say. Once you’ve got your head around what the characters are talking about, there’s not a lot of importance there. I lost interest quite quickly. 2 out of 5.

Book Reviews, Articles and Letters

This month there is one film review and a good few Book Reviews. There is no sign of a Science Article, though – perhaps they have died a death…

For films, Al Good examines Roger Corman’s latest take on "Edgar Allen Poe" (as it says on the back cover), The Tomb of Ligeia before looking at Corman’s work in general. Although The Tomb of Ligeia is not Corman’s best, the Corman versions of Poe’s work are better movies than our British Hammer Horror movies because they stay close to the spirit of Edgar’s writing.

George Collyn comments on Brian Aldiss’s Greybeard (not the best Aldiss has ever written), JG Ballard’s The Terminal Beach (an author in danger of disappearing into himself) and Journey Beyond Tomorrow by Robert Sheckley, which he is much more positive about.

After praising the work of Cordwainer Smith and Kurt Vonnegut, in Collyn’s opinion, Sheckley is seriously underrated, and his work, as well as that of Smith and Vonnegut, reflects the difference in reading material between UK and US readers at the moment. Like Aldiss and Ballard, they are writers prepared to push the boundaries of what we see as science fiction, unlike the majority published in American magazines. Sheckley’s Journey Beyond Tomorrow is “the most important unnoticed event of 1964 as far as SF is concerned.”

James Colvin (aka Mike Moorcock) hands in a more detailed review of The Best SF Stories of James Blish. Taking each story in turn, he eventually puts forward the idea that Blish as an author may be overrated and that other writers such as Cyril Kornbluth and John Brunner deserve to be published as frequently as Blish.

Speaking of Kornbluth and Brunner, Langdon Jones praises their stories in his review of Spectrum IV, edited by Kingsley Amis and Robert Conquest. The collection is dissected in some detail as a “good buy” collection, whilst Poul Anderson’s Trader to the Stars is dismissed as a Wild West story set in Space and Robert A Heinlein’s Tunnel in the Sky is a juvenile masquerading as an adult novel, and as such is “readable if slight.”

The Letters pages continue to debate the ongoing issue of what is science fiction, and therefore what should or shouldn’t be included in New Worlds. Suggestions this month include dropping the 'SF' on the cover, and sticking to traditional idioms is too limiting. The debate continues.

In terms of Ratings, no great surprises for the Star issue from April, other than it is a reprint that gets top billing. Ballard is lower than I expected, but then I thought myself that this was a lesser work. Bearing in mind what George Collyn has said about JG in his reviews this month, does this suggest that the Ballard bubble has burst?

Summing up New Worlds

Another ‘up and down’ issue, with some good and others not so. Moorcock should be praised to trying to nurture new talent, but the results are variable. I enjoyed most the Aldiss reprint, but the issue also gained my lowest rating so far for a story. It’s a good effort but a C+ overall.

Summing up

This month’s issues are difficult to compare as they are so deliberately different. New Worlds has gone for new talent and a range of stories of variable content, whilst Science Fantasy has gambled on one big story dominating the issue, with lesser efforts from Science Fantasy regulars. In the end, the dominance of The Furies means that this month’s best issue for me is Science Fantasy. It’s not perfect, but I think I’ll remember that story for a long time.

And that’s it for this time. Until the next…


Here's those Beatles chaps, celebrating the arrival of Summer with squinting eyes





[June 22, 1965] Standby for Action! (Gerry Anderson’s Stingray)


by Kaye Dee

“Standby for Action!” is the dramatic opening line of the opening titles for Gerry and Sylvia Anderson’s most recent marionette science fiction series, Stingray, which then go on to promise us “Anything can happen in the next half hour!” And with over 39 episodes of undersea adventure Stingray lives up to that promise.


World Aquanuat Security Patrol Commander Shore warns us that “Anything can happen in the next half hour” in the Stingray opening titles. Note the caption “in Videcolor” in the background, telling even viewers watching in in black and white that the show is made in colour

Stingray completed its first Australian screening run a few weeks ago on June 9, having commenced on the national broadcaster, the Australian Broadcasting Commission (ABC), on September 16, 1964. As I’ve recently discovered from my friend at the ABC, this was, unusually, three weeks before the show commenced screening in Britain: as you might recall from my article about the long-delayed arrival of Doctor Who in Australia, we are more likely to be months, if not years, behind in screening television series from overseas. In fact, the Andersons’ earlier series, Fireball XL5, still hasn’t arrived on our shores, but I’ve heard that it will be shown on one of the commercial television channels later in the year.


The Stingray, series title. I’ve read that Gerry Anderson said an undersea show was the next logical step after the land and space exploits of his earlier series Supercar and Fireball XL5

Although I haven’t yet seen Fireball XL5, I discovered Stingray alongside the Andersons’ first Supermarionation puppet creation Supercar, which has been repeated this year on the ABC after first screening in 1963. While Supercar is good kiddie fun (thanks to my niece and nephew for introducing me to both these shows), Stingray shows an order of magnitude of improvement, technically and in the imaginativeness of its storyline.


Stingray, the most advanced submarine of 2065 and titular star of the show

Stingray is a science fiction undersea adventure series, set in the twenty first century (in 2065, as one episode informs us), following the exploits of the crew of Stingray, the most advanced submarine in the World Aquanaut Security Patrol (better known as WASP), one of the armed services of the World Government, charged with policing and protecting civil activities on and under the world’s oceans. However, in Stingray’s world, there are many peoples and civilisations under the sea and, although they have been largely unknown to the surface world previously, many of them have become angered by the “terrainean” exploitation of the resources of the oceans.


The Stingray crew, Troy Tempest, Phones and Marina, the mysterious woman from the sea.

In the first episode, the crew of Stingray, Captain Troy Tempest and his navigator/hydrophone operator, nicknamed “Phones” (apparently his full name is given in the promotional material for the series, but it never gets mentioned on screen), are captured by Titan, King of undersea city of Titanica. When his god (represented by a giant fish that looks like a cross between a grouper and a coelacanth!) rejects Troy and Phones, Titan condemns them to death, but they escape, aided by Marina, the mute daughter of the ruler of another undersea kingdom, whom Titan has been keeping as his slave. Marina returns with Troy and Phones to the WASP home-base of Marineville and becomes a member of the Stingray crew, using her knowledge of the undersea world to assist in their missions.


Titan, the evil King of Titanica, the arch-enemy of the Stingray crew, and his minions, the Aquaphibians.

This sets the stage for the series, with Titan and his creepy henchmen X-20 and the Aquaphibians, becoming the WASPs’ main undersea adversaries. While many stories involve battles with, or thwarting plots against, the WASP, or the surface world in general, by Titan and his allies, there is plenty of other action for the Stingray crew as well: we see them involved in exploration, participating in marine archaeology, undertaking rescue missions, investigating piracy and terrorism, assisting undersea peoples, becoming embroiled in international diplomacy and even discovering the truth about the Loch Ness Monster! Of course, being a children’s show, some of the stories are silly, and there are too many ‘dream episodes’, where strange things happen, for my taste – but many have a tongue-in-cheek humour that can be appealing to adults, and others touch on grown-up ideas such as whether or not we should exploit the mineral resources of the ocean floor.


Stingray in its pen under Marineville, awaiting the call to “Action Stations”

Unlike many kids’ adventure shows, the storyline is not completely static but has some developments over time, with Marina being initially somewhat under suspicion as a possible agent of Titan, but gradually becoming accepted, especially by Atlanta Shore, who was romantically involved with Tempest before Marina arrived on the scene. Troy finds himself enthralled by Marina but seems unable to make up his mind between the two women. It must be a first for a children’s television show that it not only portrays a ‘love triangle’ but also makes it the focus of its closing credits, which incorporate the love song “Aqua Marina”.


Atlanta Shore, Troy’s original love interest and her father WASP Commander Sam Shore in Marineville Control. A person with paraplegia in a hovering ‘wheelchair’ as a military commander has to be a role model for disabled children: in the future you can do anything!

I also find it interesting that Stingray includes two handicapped characters among its main cast, both of whom are shown to be vital members of the WASP. Marina may be mute – and episodes deal with her crewmates wanting to help her learn to speak, and the problem of Marineville Control communicating with Marina by radio – but she is intelligent and more than capable of rescuing Troy and Phones on more than one occasion. The Commander of the WASP, Sam Shore, is a paraplegic, who gets around using a hover chair – and an entire episode is devoted to the story of how he was crippled on active duty — but he is in overall charge of the organization. These have to be heartening role models for children afflicted by polio and other disabilities. 


Gerry and Sylvia Anderson and some of the Stingray production team with one of the models of Stingray

Stingray is impressive technically. Those dramatic opening statements at the beginning of the title sequence introduce a series of action shots of Stingray, a lot of explosions, Stingray’s home base Marineville going to red alert (which means the entire base sinking underground and ICBM’s being deployed into launch positions), and an amazing scene of Stingray leaping out of the water, chased by one of Titan’s submarines in the shape of a gigantic mechanical fish. And it’s all accompanied by a staccato, jazzy theme that really works with the visuals.


I’d love to know how they created this dramatic scene of Stingray leaping out of the water, chased by one of Titan’s submarines

The models of futuristic submarines, aircraft and other technology of the twenty first century are beautifully detailed, and the finely crafted miniature sets perfectly match the size of the marionettes, which I understand are about 20 inches tall. I’ve read that the AP Films production team moved into a completely new studio to produce Stingray, which included two sound stages, so that they could shoot two episodes at a time, plus a special stage for filming special effects and huge indoor tanks for filming ocean surface scenes. The ‘underwater’ scenes are apparently shot on a dry set, but filmed through a special fish-filled aquarium in front of the camera, to create a forced perspective of an undersea environment: the kids certainly think it has actually been filmed underwater.


The beautifully detailed model of WASP Headquarters Marineville. The sequences of parts of the base sinking underground during an alert are really impressive

I like the Stingray marionettes, too: they are less caricatured than in Supercar, in fact some of them look like they’ve been modelled on real people. The Troy Tempest puppet reminds me of James Garner, and badguy X-20 looks – and sounds – a lot like Peter Lorre! The puppet faces are also given added realism by having glass eyes, unlike the painted eyes of the earlier puppets. Something I find really interesting is that the marionettes can apparently be fitted with different heads, sculpted so that the face is smiling or frowning, which allows them to express emotion in a way that wasn’t possible in the earlier puppets.


Tell me Troy Tempest isn’t modelled on James Garner!

Stingray also has another claim to fame, it seems, as the first television series in the UK to be filmed completely in colour, even though it will be some years yet before Britain gets colour television (and probably a decade yet before we see it in Australia). I understand has been done in order to improve the possibility of sales into the American market, so I hope it works, and the Andersons make enough profit from Stingray to embark upon a new series in the not-too-distant future.

In the meantime, I look forward to belatedly seeing Fireball XL5 and enjoy it as an interim step between Supercar and Stingray!



[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…]




[June 20, 1965] Ace Quadruple (June Galactoscope #1)

[Kris Vyas-Myall and Cora Buhlert team up to cover two of the better Ace Doubles to have come out in a while. Enjoy!]


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

The Ballad of Beta-2, by Samuel R. Delany, and Alpha, Yes! Terra, no!, by Emil Petaja (Ace Double M-121)

I have generally been disappointed by the Ace Doubles so far this year. Those I have read have seemed to me to be quite old fashioned and I had been wondering if they were going to be heading into a more conservative route with them this year. Thankfully, this new Double I have found has been one of their best:

The Ballad of Beta-2 by Samuel R. Delany

Ballad of Beta 2

I have been a fan of all four of Delany’s Ace novels, however I approached this with some excitement but also trepidation. For three of those former works were in the same Toron series and The Jewels of Aptor was also set in a similar post-catastrophe future. So, whilst I know he is an excellent writer I wondered how he would do with a generation starship story. I can definitively say he has not only succeeded but produced his best work to date.

This is an interesting take on the well-worn theme, where the generation starship became obsolete long before the crew reached their destination. The inhabitants found hyperdrive had resulted in the systems already being colonized and they themselves were outdated relics who were simply content to live on their ships. At the same time, it appears some form of reversion has taken place and those on board lack much of the knowledge they would have had at the start of the voyage.

Galactic anthropology student Joneny is forced to do an assignment on these Star Folk’s culture, specifically the titular “Ballad of Beta-2”. Originally Joneny assumes that the ballad is nothing but meaningless “cotton candy effusions”, but as he investigates further, he discovers this may hold the truth of what terrible fate befell the Star Folk on their long voyage.

This story starts off fairly leisurely and I assumed this was going to be a sedate academic kind of novel, travelling around exploring the starships. However, as it goes on you do discover that the terror listed on the front cover is justified, my heart pounding as I read some passages. And it should be said there are multiple unforeseen twists within its pages.

Delany clearly has a gift for poetry, with the ballad itself being a beautiful piece and with a clearer understanding of metre and imagery than may others in the fantasy field. He also uses a number of other clever literary devices which I loved, such as building up a mosaic story from framed narratives.

Throughout this Delany explores numerous interesting ideas. First is the value of the fantastic in storytelling and how easily it is dismissed by literary critics (something I am sure we have all seen).

Second is the problem of unchecked biases in academia. The only first-hand account Joneny can find is the original contact when the Star Folk entered the system and the Ballad was only picked up by sending in a robot to record, which the original anthropologist changed the lyrics he thought were clearly incorrect. It is off the back of this information that the common truth about the nature of the Star Folk is held.

Third is the danger of cultural assumptions. Thinking about who is civilized and what it truly means to be human. Throughout we are called on to challenge what we think we know and reassess that which we hold to be true.

Then this also acts as a reality check on the space romances, that see an ease to zipping around the universe, showing how hard this could really be. But then the story dives further into the dangers of anti-intellectualism and religious fundamentalism.

I could keep on about all the ways this work is fascinating. It should be noted this part of the Double is pretty short, only 96 pages, but within it he crafts a story with more depth than most writers manage in triple that time. And yet I would not say any of the concepts are treated at a surface level, he weaves it all together like a stout rope and you can see more ideas every time you look closer.

Needless to say, I fell in love with this short novel. I would recommend it for everyone, but it is not for the faint of heart or those looking for a light read. It is tough, intellectually challenging and really brutal at times.

Delany has once again proven himself to be one of the most exciting new voices in science fiction. If he is not to be my favourite writer of the year, someone else is going to have to produce something spectacular in the next six months!

Rating: Five Stars

Alpha Yes, Terra No! by Emil Petaja

Alpha Yes, Terra No!

Emil Petaja is an old hand of the genre but has been out of the writing game for almost a decade, only just beginning to sell new short stories and (I believe) this is his first novel. As such I was very curious what it would be like.

Humanity has fully conquered the Solar System and is preparing interstellar ships for further expansion. In Alpha Centauri they had been initially deflecting ships with their barrier, but the tribunal has decided it will be necessary to wipe out humanity completely.

The novel opens with an alien from Alpha Centauri arriving in San Francisco and ending up mingling with the homeless of the city. This person (who is initially called The Tourist but who will have more names as the story unfolds) has psychic powers and uses them to take a look at the differences in humanity and what life is like on Earth. However, his mission is not authorized, and a tracker has been sent to kill him.

Trying to summarize beyond this jumping on point seems like a fool’s errand as it become very complex. This story then evolves into a tapestry of life across the solar system, all of it linked together through a range of different characters, touching on ideas of power, mythology, belief and humanity.

Petaja makes a real effort to show what a future of ever-growing space colonization would be like rather than purely projecting the present into the future. This drive is leaving ordinary people’s lives in shambles as everyone has their eyes on space; crime and unemployment are rampant. Drug use is common. The natives of the planets that are being colonized are being exploited but it only manifests as power for a small number and as a means to fuel further expansion.

The author has an easily readable style which is useful as what he is doing could easily collapse under its own weight but somehow, he manages to juggle it. There were times when I would have to backtrack to check I was indeed following everything that was happening, but I never found myself becoming lost. I do think he could possibly have done more if this had been a full-length novel rather than squeezed down into one half of a Double, but he still works admirably with the page count he is given.

I expect this will be compared to Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land (although that itself is an old concept, dating at least as far back as Montaigne’s Of Cannibals) but it is really doing something different. This more a dialogue on humanity’s future weighing up the optimistic and pessimistic views we have emerging in science fiction and considering whether there is something worth saving in us.

So overall, Petaja’s return has proved to be a welcome surprise and I will be interested to see what he comes up with next. He clearly has a great affinity with Finnish myths, so perhaps a book based around that would be welcome?

Rating: Four Stars



by Cora Buhlert

The Rithian Terror and Off Center by Damon Knight (Ace Double M-113)

Summer has come to West Germany, though you wouldn't know it by the wet and miserable weather we've been having.

Nonetheless, there are some good news. My hometown team Werder Bremen has won the West German football (soccer to our American friends) championship for the 1964/65 season.

Werder Bremen 1965 champion
The Werder Bremen team celebrates winning the 1965 West German football championship

The 83rd Kieler Woche, one of the biggest sailing regattas in the world, kicks off today in Kiel-Eckernförde. In addition to the sailing competition, there is also a parade featuring 23 tall ships from all over the world.

Kieler Woche 1965
The West German police boat SCHLESWIG-HOLSTEIN and the French tall ships ETOILE and BELLE POULE, the Swedish tall ships GLADAN and FALKEN and the Chilean tall ship ESMERALDA at the Kieler Woche.
Poster Kieler Woche 1965
This striking minimalist poster, designed by Michael Engelmann, advertises the 1965 Kieler Woche sailing regatta.

On to reading: In the spinner rack of my local import bookstore, I came across yet another Ace Double, No. M-113 to be precise. This one contained a novel as well as a short fiction collection by Damon Knight. In the past, I have enjoyed Damon Knight's works of literary criticism, so how would his fiction stand up?

Monster Hunt

The Rithian Terror and Off Center by Damon Knight

Quite well, it turns out. The novel The Rithian Terror starts out with Security Commissioner Thorne Spangler, currently the most important official in the Earth Empire, on the hunt for a monster. That monster, the titular Rithian terror, is a tentacled horror that can take on the appearance of anybody it wishes. Seven Rithians came to Earth, but only one is still at large.

However, Spangler is certain he has the monster cornered. After all, there are house by house searches and roadblocks on every street, where everybody has to pass through a scanner. This is the one test a Rithian can't pass, for the scanner detects human skeletons and Rithians have none.

Spangler is accompanied by Jawj Pembun, an official from Manhaven, one of Earth's colony worlds, which recently gained its independence. Manhaven has regular contact with the Rithians, so Pumbun was brought in as an expert.

Spangler clearly resents Pembun's involvement in what should be his moment of glory. For starters, Pembun comes from a small backwater planet, one that only gained its independence, because the Earth Empire with its 260 planets let them. Furthermore, Pembun speaks in heavy dialect, while the Empire prizes precise language. Finally, Pembun is a black man, descended from African and Caribbean colonists, and Spangler is the sort of person who is very bothered by this and not shy about expressing it.

I have to admit that after the first fifteen pages or so, I came close to throwing the book against the nearest wall. There are enough racists in the real world, so I really don't need to spend time with racist characters while reading. However, I quickly realised that Knight was a better author than that. For even though Spangler may be the POV character, we're not meant to sympathise with him or his Empire. After all, Spangler and the Empire he serves are rigid, overorganised, xenophobic, have a massive superiority complex and are racist to boot. Spangler is also unpleasant in his personal life, a social climber who only courts his girlfriend Joanna because she is a member of a patrician family and will be useful to him. At one point, he even hits Joanna.

As a result, I quickly found myself sympathising with Pembun and cheered as he deflated Spangler and his smug compatriots. For starters, those scanners at every roadblock that Spangler is so proud of won't work, for while Rithians don't have skeletons, they could just swallow one to pass the test. Also, if the Empire wants to capture a Rithian alive, then maybe shooting six of the seven Rithians who crashlanded on Earth dead is not the best idea. Finally, Pembun casually drops the bombshell that the Rithians have hypnotic abilities as well as a nasty sense of humour.

A Game of Spies

What began as the hunt for an alien spy quickly turns into a game of cat and mouse between Spangler and Pembun. Spangler decides that Pembun must be a traitor and wastes a lots of resources trying to catch him redhanded. But the meeting of supposed offworld insurrectionists Spangler has his forces storm only turns out to be a Christmas party, where Pembun hands out gifts to children while dressed up as a legendary figure called the Grey Parrot.

While Spangler fails at every turn due to his rigid mindset, Pembun's unorthodox methods get results. And so Pembun manages to unmask the Rithian two thirds through the novel, using the Rithian's sense of humour against him. It turns out that the alien is posing as a junior member of the very committee dedicated to hunting him down. However, in the attempt to apprehend the Rithian, the alien is killed and Colonel Cassina, the military official the Rithian had hypnotised into giving him access to the security headquarters, is grievously wounded.

However, the crisis is not yet over. For the Rithians have planted bombs on Earth as leverage against the Empire. The key to the location of the bombs is in Colonel Cassina's head, only Cassina will not talk. And once Spangler's people finally manage to extract the message, destroying the Colonel's mind in the process, it turns out to be useless.

For Pembun points out that even though language has frozen and standardised in the Empire with every word having only a single meaning, it continued to evolve on the colony planets, where the same term can have many different meanings. So the location given in the message could be anywhere on Earth. Spangler and his security forces have no chance of locating the bombs. The Empire is finished, destroyed by its own rigidity, and so is Spangler's career. However, Spangler and Pembun have developed a grudging respect for each other and Pembun offers him a place on his homeworld Manhaven. Spangler's girlfriend Joanna, who up to now had refused to marry him, knowing fully well that Spangler wanted her not for herself, but for her position, agrees to go with him.

A Tale with Multiple Meanings

As a linguist, I enjoyed that the solution to the central mystery of the novel lies in the ambiguity of language. Another thing I liked was that Pembun's native tongue, which he occasionally speaks throughout the novel, is a Creole based on French, Spanish and English. I have no idea if Knight used a real Creole language, but it certainly feels convincing enough.

Just like the solution of the linguistic mystery, The Rithian Terror is a novel with multiple layers and meanings. On the surface, it is a hunt for a literal bug-eyed monster that has infiltrated Earth. However, it is also a John Le Carré like spy novel about two agents, both nominally on the same side, trying to outmanoeuvre each other. Finally, The Rithian Terror is a novel about colonialism and the slow decline and death of empires.

It is this last aspect that is also the most topical, for in the past fifteen years, we have seen the once great colonial empires of Britain and France as well as smaller powers like Belgium, the Netherlands, Spain and Italy slowly fall apart, as more and more nations in Africa, South East Asia and the Caribbean gain independence. And it is certainly no accident that Pembun, the representative of a newly independent world, is also a black man speaking Creole, while his counterpart Spangler is an overly rigid white man with the proverbial stick shoved up his backside. Knight makes it very clear to which of these two very different men the future belongs.

Four stars.

Off Center

Of Immigrants and Dolpins

Off Center, the second half of this Ace Double, is a collection of five pieces of short fiction originally published between 1952 and 1964.

F&SF February 1959The first story "What Rough Beast?" is the story of a young immigrant named Mike Kronski trying to make his way in America. However, Mike is not the simple East European immigrant he appears to be. He comes from far further afield, from an alternate universe. He also has the ability to bend reality to his will and has accidentally changed his world into ours.

Through a series of misadventures, Mike meets a young woman called Anne with burn scars on her body. He uses his ability to heal Anne's scars, which causes Anne's father and a greedy friend to capture Mike to exploit him. Mike tries to run away and is shot. In his terror, he accidentally erases New York from existence. Only Anne remains. Mike takes her to a different version of New York, where she can feel at home, and then departs to a new reality, hoping that this time, he will fit in.

A touching tale about the alienation and profound sense of homesickness many immigrants feel. Knight captures Mike's voice and his imperfect English well. Our editor Gideon Marcus also loved the story.

IF, November 1963"Second Class Citizen" is the story of researcher Charles Craven and the subject of his studies, the dolphin Pete. Craven has taught Pete to understand and speak English, spell simple words and even do chemical experiments. While Craven patronisingly presents Pete to some visitors, we learn from background conversations that there is an international crisis going on. Craven is convinced that this crisis will blow over, like any other crisis before.

However, Craven is wrong, for shortly after the visitors have left, the TV program is interrupted for a special bulletin before dropping out altogether. Craven correctly deduces that war has begun and manages to dive to the underwater station of his research base just before heat bombs fall all around him. Craven survives the attack, but once his food runs out, he will be doomed, unless he manages to catch enough fish to survive. However, Craven has no idea how to catch fish. Then Pete appears, easily catching the fish. The roles are reversed now, the teacher has become the student.

An interesting story about the way humans treat animals, but too short to make much of an impact. Gideon Marcus feels the same in his review of the story.

Of Ghosts, Gods and Martians

Fantastic Universe September 1958The novella "Be My Guest" is the story of Kip Morgan, a young man who finds himself possessed by four bickering ghosts after a poisoning attempt gone wrong. Kip also has another problem, he as well as two women of his acquaintance have become invisible to everybody but each other.

The novella follows Kip through his increasingly desperate attempts to get rid of his unwanted tenants and solve his invisibility problem. Kip finally realises that everybody had multiple ghosts living inside them and that these ghosts influence their decisions. He also realises that his invisibility problem is a form of quarantine to keep Kip from talking about the ghosts. Eventually, he blackmails some very powerful ghosts inhabiting the body of a rich man into lifting the quarantine and make sure that he and the two women are given only beneficial and helpful ghosts. Finally free, Kip also realises that the woman he thought he loved is not the person who's really good for him.

"Be My Guest" is an fascinating attempt at a science fictional ghost story. Knight viscerally conveys Kip's growing desperation. It does feel a little long, though, and would probably have worked better as a novelette or short story.

Rogue, March 1964"God's Nose" is a short vignette that does exactly what it says on the tin. The unnamed narrator and his female friend debate what the nose of God would look like. Eventually, her lover Godfrey arrives. He has a very prominent nose.

Inconsequential without much in the way of plot or point.

 

Galaxy, March 1952The final story "Catch That Martian" feels very much like a mix between The Rithian Terror and "Be My Guest". Once again, we have a dangerous alien, the titular Martian, who can take on the appearance of any human being. And once again, we have people abruptly taken out of the real world and turned into "ghosts". A young police officer is determined to crack the mystery of the ghosts and catch the Martian in the act. He deduces that the ghosts must have annoyed the Martian somehow, mostly via making noise, and that the Martian has a taste for musical theatre. So the narrator traces the Martian to a Broadway theatre, determined to apprehend him. But before he can give chase, he falls into the orchestra pit, straight onto a bass drum.

Well written and Knight once again captures the distinctive voice of his first person narrator perfectly. However, the story is also slight and a little silly, particularly compared to the two similar stories in this Ace Double.

All told, Off Center is a nice collection that showcases Knight's writing skills, even though some of the stories are a little slight.

Three stars.



[Don't miss the next episode of The Journey Show, featuring singer-songwriter Harry Seldon.  He'll be playing a mix of Dylan, Simon, and some unique original compositions!]




[June 18, 1965] Galactic Doppleganger (July 1965 Fantasy and Science Fiction)


by Gideon Marcus

Those of you who have been following the Journey over the past several years know that my appraisal of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has changed a few times.  Back in the days when Anthony Boucher and then Robert Mills were editing F&SF, it was my favorite magazine, a dessert I saved for reviewing last.

Then Avram Davidson took over in 1962, and while there were still standout issues, Davidson's whimsical, somewhat obtuse preferences led to a pretty rough couple of years.  Recently, Joe Ferman, son of the owner of the magazine, took over, and quality has been on a slow but perceptible rise.

One thing about F&SF is that it has always been unique amongst its SFF magazine brethren (which once numbered 40 and now less than ten).  It was the literary sibling, the most highfalutin.  Composed largely of vignettes and short stories, it contrasted sharply with the crunchier digests like Analog.

Which is why the current July 1965 issue is so unusual.  It's not bad; indeed, it's pretty good.  But it reads much like an issue of Galaxy or IF, one of the more mainstream mags.  I'm not disappointed.  It's just odd is all.  Read on and see what I mean.


by Jack Gaughan (he likes dragons — he did the illos for Vance's The Dragon Masters too!

Rogue Dragon, by Avram Davidson

Last year, Davidson left editing to go back to writing full time, and Rogue Dragon is his first major work since his departure from the helm of F&SF.  From the title, I expected a fantasy piece, or perhaps the dragon would even turn out to be metaphorical.  Both suppositions were wrong: Rogue Dragon is pure science fiction set on a far future Earth, one that had been conquered and then abandoned by the merciless insectoid Kar-chee.

Now simply called Prime World, humanity's original home has devolved to a handful of city-states. The planet's economy is based on Hunts, wherein the dragons introduced by the Kar-chee are slain by off-world big game hunters.  These dragons are nigh invulnerable things, their chest armor only pierceable in a weak spot identified with a painted white cross.

Enter Jan-Joras, the Private Man (representative) of the great off-world leader, Por Paulo.  Sent to arrange a vacation for the elected king he serves, Jan-Joras quickly gets caught up in a political struggle between the aristocratic Gentlemen class, who raise the dragons, the base-born (known pejoratively as dogcatchers and potato-growers), and the outlaws, who have hatched a scheme that will strike at the very foundation of the Hunt system.

But Rogue Dragon is no political thriller.  Rather, after a slightly difficult to read opening act (Davidson introduces many concepts and an abundance of idiomatic language in a short space), Rogue Dragon is an adventure story filled with derring-do, great escapes, and much traveling across increasingly hot frying pans — and we all know what destination lies at the end of that trail.

I found that I liked the story quite a bit, although it is perhaps less substantial than it might have been.  I waver between giving it three stars (perfectly adequate entertainment) and four stars (there's creative worldbuilding here).

Generosity wins.  Four stars it is, and welcome back to where you belong, Avram.

Computer Diagnosis, by Theodore L. Thomas

For his latest science fact vignette, Thomas discusses computer-assisted medical diagnosis — feed the data in, get a determination of malady and a life expectancy out.  Expanded, this could have made a nice article.  As is…

Three stars for being harmless.

The Expendables, by Miriam Allen deFord

In this odd bird of a story, the first astronauts sent to Mars are senior citizens.  The logic is that the mission is so hazardous, with so remote a chance of returning, that it is kinder to send folks with fewer years remaining in their lives.

It doesn't make a great deal of sense, and the story is hampered by some clunky "as you know" dialogue.  On the other hand, I thought the characters were pretty well drawn, and I appreciated the non-standard protagonists (two men, two women, all over 68).

Three stars.

The Eight Billion, by Richard Wilson

Many have made the dire prediction that Earth is heading toward massive overpopulation.  Indeed, the tremendous-sounding number, "Eight Billion", may well be reached by the end of the century.  Now imagine that crowding was such that eight thousand thousand thousands were crammed just into the island of Manhattan!

Wilson's story is mostly humorous fluff supporting a twist ending, but I enjoyed it.

Three stars.

Becalmed in Hell, by Larry Niven

Niven continues to impress with his fourth tale, sequel to The Coldest Place, which appeared in IF.  In his hard as nails variation on McCaffrey's The Ship who Sang, Howie and Eric-the-cyborg-ship explore the boiling planet of Venus.  There, floating twenty miles above the molten surface, Eric develops a fault and is unable to blast back into orbit.  Is the problem mechanical or psychosomatic?

This is the first story set on post-Mariner 2 Venus, and what a delight it is to see what is probably a much more accurate representation of the Planet of Love.  I do balk at the notion that it would be pitch black under Venus' clouds — it's not under an equivalent pressure of ocean, after all.  On the other hand, perhaps they were exploring the night side.

In any event, it's a neat story (albeit one I might have expected to find in Analog).  Four stars.

Exclamation Point!, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor continues his streak of turning his frivolous meanderings through mathematics into readable but not particularly momentous articles.  In this latest, he expounds on the "Asimov series", a cute way he has developed to approximate the value of the special constant, e.

An enjoyable ride, I suppose.  Three stars.

A Murkle For Jesse, by Gary Jennings

Gary Jennings last appeared in print in this very magazine, some three years ago, with the story Myrrha.  It was nominated for the Hugo, though I didn't think it merited such acclaim.

In any event, I think I liked Murkle better.  It stars an eight-year-old boy, a section of the rural Northeast, a little lost girl, and a 400-year old Irish fairy who is most certainly not lost.

If Clifford Simak and R.A. Lafferty were put in a blender, this piece might pour out.  Three stars.

The Pterodactyl, by Philip José Farmer

The book concludes with a short poem about the wing-fingered flying reptiles of the Mesozoic.  A difficult read, it also seems to suggest that pterodactyls were the evolutionary precursors of birds.

The weakest piece of the issue; two stars.

Wrapping up

And there you have it: a pleasant, above-average issue, but with stories that seem slightly odd fits for F&SF.  I'm not really complaining, though. 

Unless, of course, it means the other mags suffer…



[Don't miss the next episode of The Journey Show, featuring singer-songwriter Harry Seldon.  He'll be playing a mix of Dylan, Simon, and some unique original compositions!]




[June 16, 1965] The International Poetry Incarnation


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

Poetry has an unusual place within the science fiction and fantasy community. Many of the earliest and most influential works come from poetry, such as the Norse epics or Spenser’s Faerie Queen, continuing into the 19th century with pieces such as Rosetti’s Goblin Market and Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came by Robert Browning.

This has continued in the speculative magazines, with poems regularly featured in F&SF and Galaxy.

However, introduction of more experimental forms has come to be as important a dividing line as the "message" and "anti-message" divide we have seen debated for the last decade. Even more literary writers such as Brian Aldiss are not always in favour, describing William Burroughs as “piss” in a letter to Zenith.

For myself I love to see more experimental forms and beat poetry, the likes we have seen emerging in the post-war era, ever since I read Donald Allen’s anthology, The New American Poetry.

New American Poetry Collection
The New American Poetry Collection

So as such I was fascinated to see on BBC News that there would be a meeting of International Poets at the Royal Albert Hall.

Royal Albert Hall
The Venue For The Evening

Me and my wife applied and were pleased to receive tickets. It was a fascinating list of poets

Poster For the Incarnation
Poster For the Incarnation

With the performance starting at 6:30 I was able to meet my wife just outside our offices and grab an early bite to eat before taking the underground round to South Kensington (thankfully my offices only being a short hop away).

Heading into the Royal Albert Hall we found the place to be packed, causing me to momentarily worry we had turned up on the wrong day and Bob Dylan was playing here again. The Royal Albert Hall seats around five thousand people and to see this many interested in seeing Avant-Garde poetry was a shock and a delight.

On the way in people were handing out flowers and the whole thing was a curious atmosphere, with a stage covered in foliage and the clanking of bells. Almost funereal. There was also a lot of smoke about but I think the was more from the audience than an attempt to create a specific mood. (We were up in the gods ourselves so did not get as affected by this as much as those in the stalls much have done, which is a good thing given my wife suffers from asthma).

This evening is an experiment and we are finding out what happens when you put 5000 people in a hall with a few poets… – Alexander Trocchi

Bulletin
Pre-Event Bulletin

As it was a very long night I won’t take you through all the performances but will highlight some of the most memorable:

Laurence Ferlinghetti
Laurence Ferlinghetti

Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s To Fuck Is To Love Again was an excellent crowd pleaser. Making brilliant use of irony, metre and giving a rousing performance, he wove a journey about sexual repression and the pointlessness of division.

Harry Fainlight
Harry Fainlight

Harry Fainlight’s The Spider was frustratingly interrupted and he took it hard. However, the poem is a brilliant dark piece that he performed really well under the circumstances. It takes a dark journey into the mind of someone who believes themselves being transformed into a spider and how this compares to their own mental state. If it was published in Fantastic, I am sure fantasy fans would be devoting many letters pages debating its merits (whilst I would myself be giving it five stars).

Adrian Mitchell
Adrian Mitchell

Adrian Mitchell's poem To Whom it May Concern was a little more traditional than some of the others, having spent a long time on the British poetry scene and in anti-war causes, but probably my favourite of the evening (and many others given the level of applause he received). It is an angry piece against the war in Vietnam and contains amazing imagery:

I smell something burning, hope it's just my brains.
They're only dropping peppermints and daisy-chains

Ernst Jandl
Ernst Jandl

Ernst Jandl gave a fascinating performance that was mostly through sounds but was really meaningful nonetheless. This included one that was done entirely through sneezing! I had never heard sound poetry before but it is a really interesting and something I would like to see more of.

Allen Ginsberg
Allen Ginsberg

Allen Ginsberg was obviously the star attraction and gave a performance in his usual powerful style, sounding like he is forcing the words out in a flow of emotion. These included his epic The Change and a brand new one combining viscerally disturbing imagery, despair and current politics.

He also read New York Bird by Russian poet Andrei Vosnesensky. Apparently Russian authorities would not allow Vosenesky to perform his own poem, so Ginsberg performed it in his place.

Some of the performances were less memorable and there were also some highly expected performers, like Pablo Neruda, who did not end up performing.

There were some downsides to the event. The whole thing seemed very disorganised, with no official running order. Nor was it really all their best performances. I have heard records of some of those present that have been significantly better.

It was also disappointing how all of the performers were men. Why not invite some excellent contemporary women poets like Diane Di Prima or Denise Levertov?

Poets
Poets Gathered Together, All Men

What was most fascinating about the whole experience was seeing these poets live, and being with so many others people who were interested in this kind of art. Whilst we there we saw the event being filmed, so perhaps it will spread even further?

Either way it was an exciting performance to be at and shows a healthy future for experimental writing around the world. The event lasted more than four hours so we headed home for the weekend very tired but also elated at what we had seen.

Will the poems of this calibre and experimental nature be featured in the SF magazines? It's hard to say, but I surely won't find it aught amiss if they do!



[Don't miss the next episode of The Journey Show, featuring singer-songwriter Harry Seldon.  He'll be playing a mix of Dylan, Simon, and some unique original compositions!]




[June 14, 1965] Our Best Man (the Young Traveler's favorite secret agent)


by Lorelei Marcus

Spy King

A thrilling trend has swept its way across the screen recently. Suddenly everyone is keen on viewing the exhilarating day to day of the best secret agents film and television have to offer. They are dapper, cunning, and they challenge the world's darkest foes with masterful plans and interesting gadgets.

Yet among this sea of shadow-dwelling men there is a spy who stands above the rest as the best secret agent of all time. He's British, attracts women like a magnet, and works for a morally ambiguous organization to bring justice to the world.

I'm of course talking about John Drake.

Secret Agent, or Danger Man as it is called in its original airing in Britain, is the best fictional depiction of special intelligence on television. The sophisticated writing and wonderful performance from Patrick McGoohan has earned the show my weekly attention, as it should yours.

Now some may protest at the boldness of my claim. After all, how can a show almost no one in the States has ever heard of reign champion in the crowded secret agent genre? Especially with opponents such as The Man from U.N.C.L.E. and of course, the James Bond movies. Except, it becomes quite obvious when broken down that Secret Agent contains every possible desired aspect of the secret agent genre and excels where its rivals are lacking.

Exhibit 1: Stakes

Part of the spy appeal is the larger-than-life nature of their profession. Secret agents are frequently thrown into scenarios where their actions can change the face of the modern world. Secret Agent not only captures this drama, but on a level of such elegance and nuance that even the smallest of crises has you on the edge of your seat. John Drake is frequently sent to foreign countries to interfere or investigate governmental affairs; however no two jobs are ever alike. Sometimes he is stuck in the middle of a rebellion. Other times he's hunting down traitorous agents.

No matter the mission, John Drake always executes his work with a level of care, intelligence, and competence equalled by no other hero on television. The diversity and complexity of conflicts grounds the show in a realism akin to our own world. Not to mention the portrayal of other ethnicities and countries is done with unparalleled accuracy and respect. Every episode is exhilarating, mysterious, and well written, and there is yet to be one I didn't like.

To reinforce Secret Agent's excellence I'll compare it to the biggest secret agent film of the season: Goldfinger.

I would summarize the movie's plot, but to be frank it's been a few months and there wasn't much of one to begin with. Goldfinger was less a spy movie and more James Bond failing over and over and then being saved by the more competent people around him.


"I'll be over there, bailing you out…as usual."

Then there's Goldfinger's villain. While John Drake's foes are always complex and rarely monomaniacally evil, the titular villain, Goldfinger, throws subtlety out the window. Now, there's nothing wrong with the booming, big bad villain, but they also have to be cunning to properly challenge the hero. Except Auric Goldfinger's plans make no sense and reach a level of convolution so extreme that the movie must take 15 minutes to explain them to us.


Don't tell your evil plan! James Bond could be hiding under your little Fort Knox!

Sure there are the high-stakes threats of mass genocide and collapse of world economy, but they feel so large that that they are bound to backfire. James Bond has to win because otherwise the whole canonical universe would become unusable. Not that Bond doesn't try everything in his power to screw it up. Even after hearing Goldfinger's entire secret plan, he only barely manages to save the day by convincing Goldfinger's right hand woman to do it for him.


"Oh don't look at me. She's the one who'll be doing all the work."

The differences in quality are so vast that the two almost shouldn't be compared. The Bond Films are idiotic, nonsensical drivel in comparison to the grounded masterpiece that is Secret Agent. However for some reason James Bond is the much more popular and well-known franchise. Perhaps it's the higher budget and flashy special-effects, even though Secret Agent is often better at those, too.

Exhibit 2: Gadgets

All spies have to use fancy tools to save the world — because it's really cool to watch. Who doesn't get excitement from the technologies that make it possible to listen to secret conversations or track down criminals? Though James Bond does get some arguably neat secret weapons and tech, he always manages to lose them or destroy them in some bumbling foolish manner. Also, Bond's inventions are often beyond the realm our modern world, and require a suspension of disbelief.

John Drake instead often uses tools actual spies use such as bugs and microdots. That doesn't mean they aren't fun. The most fascinating part of each episode is witnessing Drake's plans unfold, and how he uses his technological tools is simply a part of that entertaining process. Realism does not inhibit creativity.

Beyond their use, the neat factor of these gadgets comes in how Drake transports them. In one episode, rather than an impossibly small phone in his shoe, Drake must obtain a radio while undercover by intercepting a package of meat that has the transmitter hidden inside. My personal favorite so far is a blowgun in the shape of the fishing rod that shoots listening bugs. The cleverness of the show never ceases to amaze me.

Exhibit 3: Charisma

Simply put, a secret agent has to be likable. Without charm, an agent would be unable to assume alternate identities convincingly– and also not be fun to watch. James Bond does not have the redeeming qualities needed to be a good agent: he is actively bad at his job. Morevoer, he cares more about dating than the fate of the world; in one grotesque scene in Goldfinger he actively forces himself onto a woman for no reason but selfishness.

Once again, the comparison is stark: John Drake is the complete opposite. He is the best at what he does, and because of that he never loses, but it's never a given. It's always his own wit that gets him out of close shaves and tough jobs. He also has an incredibly strong moral compass, always trying to do the right thing.


John Drake, equally at home as the suave man of society and a meek music aficionado.

This makes for incredibly interesting tension with MI9, the organization he works for, because they sometimes send him on missions that aren't necessarily moral. The internal conflict of Drake doing his work because he's the best at it, but sometimes having to do "wrong" things in that line of work creates wonderful character drama.


Drake has no qualms about telling off his bosses. But he does the job anyway.

Exhibit 4: Partners

Secret Agent consistently has some of the best portrayals of female characters on all of television. Many women fall for John Drake due to his innate and thorough confidence, and yet not once does he ever make a move. He is incredibly respectful and human in his treatment of women, as equals rather than objects for physical pleasure. And though many women are attracted to Drake, that does not lessen them as characters. The wealth of interesting and strong female characters on this show is unparalleled in any other broadcast I've ever seen.

In fact, Secret Agent goes out of its way to feature women, agents and otherwise, who are as talented and and resourceful as Drake. There are often several in an episode. Beyond that, the globetrotting Danger Man frequently works with locally based allies. Whether Western European or Eastern, South Asian or African, Caribbean or Middle Eastern, Drake's counterparts are played as competent professionals, and (usually) by actors of the appropriate background (with the occasional, unfortunate example of "brown/black/yellow face").

It's truly both astounding and refreshing to see such wonderful representation, and the willingness to let Drake share the limelight with other strong characters makes each episode almost an ensemble production.

Q.E.D.

It is, thus, irrefutable that Secret Agent is the best spy show ever to be shown on a screen — of any size. It is perfection, with sublime writing, engaging acting, fascinating characters, realism, and a progressiveness desperately needed but rarely seen anywhere else. It is currently midway through its second season in America, and there will hopefully be a third in Britain at the end of summer. Whichever side of the Pond you live on, please make sure to catch Secret Agent. You won't want to miss it.

This is the Young Traveler, signing off.



[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! You can dispute the Young Traveler's presentation. You'll be wrong, of course…]