Tag Archives: 1965

The 1965 Hugo ballot is out!


by Gideon Marcus

This year's Worldcon will be in London this year, and they've already released the names of the nominees for the 1965 Hugo Award (for the best science fiction of 1964):

Since the Journey has covered virtually everything on the list, we've created a little crib sheet so you can vote in an educated fashion.

Also, we'll be talking about this ballot on May 23rd at 1PM PDT on a special broadcast of KGJ Channel 9 — so please tune in and join us in the discussion!

Best Novel:

Davy — It made Honorable Mention last year (I've only read the two novelettes that comprise the bulk of the story).  Cora's reviewed it.

The Planet Buyer — Really just a slightly expanded version of The Boy Who Bought Old Earth, which really shouldn't be judged alone, finished as it is by The Store of Heart's Desire.  Anyway, it got the Star, and I reviewed both.

The Wanderer — It, pointedly, did not get a Star.  Jason reviewed it.

The Whole Man — It got honorable mention.  Victoria Silverwolf reviewed it.

Best short story:

Little Dog Gone — VS reviewed it.  She gave it 4 stars, and I think that's fair.  It's fine, but no one nominated it for a Star.

Once a Cop — I reviewed it and I did nominate this one for the Star.

Soldier, Ask Not — I reviewed it.  It got nominated for the Star (not by me, but enough others did, and it was good enough not to merit argument).

Best Pro Magazine:

Your mileage may vary! However, we did meticulously rank them when we awarded the Stars last year.

Best Fanzine:

Double Bill A quarterly of news, articles, fanzine reviews, some poetry (genzine), and some big names slumming.  Two years old.

Yandro A venerable monthly that has been nommed for the Hugo a zillion times.  Another genzine.

Zenith A new genzine, probably a monthly (I haven't read this one)

[I should probably read all of the genzines more regularly, but my — 'zine plate is full with the news 'zines: Science Fiction Times, Ratatosk, and Fecal Pint…er Focal Point.]

Best Artist:

Ed Emshwiller

Frank Frazetta — he's pretty much escaped my ken this year, but here's a recent book cover:

Jack Gaughan

John Schoenherr

Best Publisher:

Ace Plenty of good stuff there including Delany's Towers of Toron, a lot of Andre Norton, and Purdom's excellent I Want the Stars.

Ballantine They did Davy, Martian Time Slip, but also The Wanderer and The Reefs of Space (in itself not bad, but the sequel was awful).  Also, lots of Burroughs reprints.

Gollancz Not quite so busy as the first two, and no titles that got the Star, but some decent ones in there.

Pyramid The weakest of them, to my mind, and the one (aside from Ace) I read the most from last year.

Best Dramatic Presentation:

Seven Faces of Dr. Lao, reviewed by Vicki Lucas, nominated for the Star.

Dr. Strangelove, reviewed by Rosemary Benton, awarded the Star.

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[May 16, 1965] Gathering Dust (Doctor Who: The Space Museum)


By Jessica Holmes

Thank you for joining me today, everybody. I hope we’ve all got our visitor’s passes and will be keeping our hands to ourselves, because today we’re going to be taking a tour of The Space Museum, and the main exhibit? The Doctor and his companions! Today’s serial was written by Glyn Jones.

The spaceship graveyard, with museum centre frame.

THE SPACE MUSEUM

If I may direct your attention to the opening of the episode, we can see that it picks up where it left off, with the TARDIS going dark. We then cut to a barren landscape dotted by rockets, among which the TARDIS materialises.

The crew seems dazed upon landing, and once the Doctor gets the lights back on, Ian and Barbara realise that somehow, they’ve changed their whole outfits.

Ian and the Doctor examine the ground.I used to wear socks like that for primary school…

We have a scene of Vicki getting water for the Doctor, only to drop the glass, spilling the water, which then un-spills and comes back to her hand. It’s a simple enough effect, but rather nifty, and it seems things might be a whole lot weirder than a change of wardrobe.

Upon viewing the spaceships outside, the Doctor comes to suspect, as they’re all from different time periods, that they’ve landed in some sort of museum. I wonder if they have a little shop? I like a little shop.

The group search for signs of life, leaving no footprints behind them as they walk. The gang soon find a building and some more people. They rush to hide, but when Vicki sneezes, it’s as if they didn’t hear her at all.

Two men pass by in the foreground as Vicki sneezes in the background.

Perhaps unwisely, the group enters the building to look around without even buying a ticket.

The gang get a nasty shock upon discovering the first item of interest. It’s a Dalek. A dead Dalek. Vicki, never having met the fiends, thinks it looks quite friendly. I really do love Vicki’s soft spot for creatures others might deem monstrous. Well, they’d be absolutely right in the case of the Dalek, but still. It’s sweet.

They have another run-in with some men, whose lips move but make no sound. That almost sounds like the opening to a riddle.

Think things can’t get any stranger? Think again! Caving to the urge to touch the shiny space exhibits, Vicki tries poking at an item only to find that her arm goes straight through. None of the others can touch it either, and a third group of men come by, looking right through them without seeing them.

Sorry, guys, but there’s only one conclusion: the TARDIS blew up and you’re all ghosts. I can think of worse places to haunt than a museum, so it’s not all bad.

The companions watch as the Doctor stands in the space where the TARDIS seems to be.My gut instinct says Pepper's Ghost so just take my word for it, okay?

Onwards, they find something quite unexpected: the TARDIS, but not where they originally left it. Still, one shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth so they decide they might as well get in and go home for a nice cup of tea and some custard creams. Of course, it’s not that easy. The TARDIS isn’t really there. Or is it? Perhaps they’re the ones who aren’t really there.

Out of curiosity, I did a bit of research to find out how they achieved this visual effect. In conclusion: I’m not sure, and that irks me. My guess is either a double exposure or Pepper’s Ghost.

Or magic.

Something wicked this way comes, for in the room holding the TARDIS, the crew find themselves. Literally.

The four main characters as exhibits in a museum.

It seems the gang’s exploits have earned them a spot in the museum. These aren’t dummies though, oh no. These are the real people, preserved and shoved into a glass cabinet to gather dust for eternity.

The gang arrive at the conclusion that what they’re seeing is their future, or at least a possible version of it. There’s a bit of technobabble about dimensions in time and jumping time tracks that I can’t quite wrap my head around, but the bottom line is that the reason they can’t interact with anything in the museum is that they haven’t actually arrived yet, but are in another time dimension seeing the museum as it will be after they’ve arrived and done…something or other.

Don’t worry, it gives me a bit of a headache too.


It's hard to get an interesting image of people waiting for something interesting to happen.

The Doctor decides that they should wait around for themselves to actually arrive, at which point time should sort itself out and things will progress as normal.

But…but wouldn’t they still be moving forwards in time so that their true-present selves would never actually catch up with their slightly-out-of-sync-with-the-rest-of-spacetime selves?

Let’s upgrade that headache to a migraine, shall we?

It doesn’t take long before there’s some sort of reversal of time. Two men discover the TARDIS, and the glass cases disappear, and the footprints in the sand turn up.

I might need a diagram to get this straight.

So, the serial opens with an interesting and often creepy episode. The sterile atmosphere of the museum and the deep quiet of the space creates an uncanny feeling, and appropriately enough a sense that there is no time in this place at all. We’ve got some interesting visual effects on display too, and although I do find the explanation of the time-bending shenanigans to be quite confusing, I do find it an interesting idea. Can the companions discover what led them to be museum pieces in time to avert their fate, or are they going to have to find out the hard way?

The Morok governor and his lieutenant.
Nice hairdo.

THE DIMENSIONS OF TIME

I think it’s about time some other characters were introduced, don’t you? Say hello to the curators of this museum, the Moroks. They’re not doing anything very interesting right now apart from talking about some rebellion and finding the TARDIS.

Speaking of rebellion, say hello to the Xerons and their fascinating eyebrows. They’ve also learned of the arrival of a new ship, and hope to attain the assistance of the new arrivals.

Said arrivals are currently flouting the ‘do not touch’ rule and nicking one of the guns on display. Ian, grown man that he is, even makes the appropriate noises as he waves it around. Don’t worry Ian, I’m not judging you… much.

The Doctor tells Ian, a grown man, that guns are not toys.

The Doctor decides that to avoid the future they’ve seen, they should try and find the TARDIS as soon as possible. However, that’s easier said than done, because this museum doesn’t have any signposts. Not even one of those handy wall maps with a big red dot saying ‘you are here’.

As the group travel, the Xerons nab the Doctor in a moment of distraction, and the Doctor bravely drops down and pretends to be dead. It doesn’t take long for Ian and Barbara to realise the Doctor’s gone missing, and start bickering like a pair of stressed parents wondering the whereabouts of an errant child, and if that doesn’t sum up their entire dynamic I don’t know what does.

Two of the Xerons make the mistake of leaving one of their number alone with the Doctor for more than five minutes, returning to find their comrade bound and gagged on the floor, and the Doctor nowhere to be seen.

This precedes the single best scene in all of Doctor Who. I’m not exaggerating. I cannot do justice to the sheer joy this scene brought me.

We slowly pan across to see the Dalek on display come to life, and from within comes a familiar voice.

The Doctor does a delightful Dalek impression as he congratulates himself on his cleverness, even waving the weapons around for good measure, and popping out of the hatch with an expression of pure glee.

The Doctor pops out of his hiding place.

He’s a little too pleased with himself, however, as it takes him all of about ten seconds to run right into some Moroks on patrol and get himself captured.

The others, meanwhile, are still lost. While wondering what to do Ian has a bright idea and starts taking Barbara’s clothes off. As you do.

Don’t worry, the programme is still perfectly suitable for a family audience. Ian’s had the idea to use the wool in her cardigan to leave a trail behind them, like Theseus and the Minotaur, so that they don’t end up going round and round in circles. It’s not long before the Xerons start to follow the thread too, and the companions discover that the TARDIS has fallen into the hands of the Moroks.

Ian tries to unravel a cardigan with his teeth.Ian demonstrating how NOT to unpick a piece of knitwear.

The Doctor finds himself in the company of the governor of the Moroks, who explains to him this is a museum dedicated to the military conquests of the Morok Empire, though interest has waned of late. It seems the people of the homeworld are more interested in enjoying life than ending it in insatiable imperial expansion. The Doctor suggests that they try reducing the price of admission.

The Morok asks where the Doctor’s companions are, getting naught but a giggle from him. However, he then shows the Doctor an image of the companions elsewhere in the museum. How did he get it? From the Doctor’s mind.

The governor interrogates the Doctor

The interrogation isn’t as easy as all that however, as it seems the Doctor has excellent control over his mind, and when asked how he arrived, thinks of a penny farthing, and when asked where he’s from, imagines a colony of walruses, followed by a picture of himself in an old-fashioned bathing suit. It’s quite funny.

The fun and games can’t last, however, as the governor becomes angry when his men can’t find the companions, and orders that the Doctor be taken to the preparation room. He’s to become an exhibit.

THE SEARCH

The Moroks can’t get into the TARDIS, much to the lamentation of the leader of this little band.

Here’s one of the issues of the serial. The conflict within the Moroks themselves is… boring. It’s just dull as ditchwater, and the performances are not strong enough to carry it on entertainment value or get me invested in any of the characters. What are their names? I don’t know and I don’t care.

Three Moroks outside the TARDIS
Do you think they realise how ridiculous they look?

Even the wider conflict between the Moroks and the Xerons is not interesting to me. We’ve seen it plenty of times before in Doctor Who, and done better. I think what the writer’s trying to do is ambitious, but it feels very flat to me. Unfortunately, it gets more attention than the strange time travel shenanigans, so it’s really dragging down the serial, and it’s only going to get worse.

Watching this bickering going on, the companions let down their guard long enough for one of the Moroks to find them, and Ian confronts the armed guard with impressive courage and questionable judgement. He figures that the guard can’t shoot him, as he knows he ends up in a glass box. Even if he does, well hurrah for averting the future. Well, I suppose either outcome is a success of sorts.

Ian stares down the barrel of a gun, with Barbara and Vicki behind him.
Ian faces the guard, while behind him, Barbara prepares to use Vicki as a human shield.

Ian tackles the guard, giving the others a chance to make a run for it, and there’s rather a good and well-choreographed fight scene following his ensuing capture. Often fight scenes in Doctor Who are shot quite close up and are hard to make much out of, and those that are shot more clearly often look absurd, but this one is both clear and believable. At the end of it, he’s left two Moroks out cold, as the others left in pursuit of the women.

The women are separated in the chase, with Barbara ending up trapped in a storage room, and Vicki running into the rebel Xerons. Thankfully, the Xerons are friendly, and one of them goes to look for Barbara while the others lead Vicki to their hideout.

Ian hides behind the TARDIS, unseen by the guard.

So, how did Ian escape the Moroks after his victory in the tussle? Well, apparently by virtue of the Moroks being utter clattering buffoons, that’s how. You want to know where he went? His brilliant hiding spot? Behind the flipping TARDIS. Just behind it. And somehow, the guard stationed outside the ship fails to notice him.

Ian surprises the guard and takes him hostage, holding him at gunpoint as he demands information and guidance. This is another thing that bothers me.

Yes, we know Ian is the action hero of the group. Yes, Ian’s absolutely killed people. However, all his kills have been in the heat of the moment, when his own life was in danger, and it’s quite disturbing to see him carry on for the rest of the episode threatening to shoot this guard in cold blood. Wouldn’t Ian instead try to bring the guard around to his side before resorting to threats of violence? This is a cold, angry Ian and it doesn’t seem like him to be this way. Besides all that, it doesn’t seem a good message to be sending to the younger viewers. ‘Why try talking to people when threats of violence will work just fine?’

Ian brandishes his gun.

The governor of the Moroks receives word from his home planet that they’re displeased the youth rebellion hasn’t been crushed yet, and gives the order to flood the museum with a poisonous gas that will paralyse everyone inside, to flush out the intruders.

Putting it that way, it seems a little flawed.

One of the Xerons manages to find Barbara, but before they can find the others the gas cloud envelops them and they have to flee.

Meanwhile, the others are explaining to Vicki that this is their world, that the Moroks committed genocide on the native population, wiping out the adults and enslaving the children. Is that meant to get me invested, three quarters of the way into the serial? No need to actually show us the oppression the Xerons face, or give us much in the way of emotional stakes, just throw in a line about mass murder and voila, you have an invested audience, right? Wrong.

The Xerons eat dinner with Vicki.

To get invested in a conflict, I need to be shown a reason to care about it early on, rather than have a lump of exposition spat at me most of the way through. Beyond that, this narrative of ‘rebellion against the conquerors’ feels like a retreading of the conflict in The Web Planet, but it’s much less interesting.

So, how’s the dullest rebellion in the galaxy going to overthrow their oppressors? Well, they haven’t actually worked that out. The youth have been making all sorts of grand plans, but the fact is they don’t have any weapons and no plan to get some. What they do have is knowledge of where to find the armoury, and a smart ally by the name of Vicki.

Vicki tampers with the machine while the Xerons watch.

Vicki examines the security equipment guarding the armoury. It’s a machine that asks questions, and can tell if the subject is lying. Of course, just telling the truth isn’t enough to get in, you have to be telling the truth about your credentials, permits, valid reason for accessing the armoury, and on and on the questions go. Understanding how the machine works, Vicki cracks it open to take a look inside, and tampers with the equipment, making it so that all that’s needed is the truth, not the credentials.

Well, that’s a bit of a rubbish security system if it can be tampered with that easily. Had none of the Xerons ever thought to try it?

However, with one small victory, elsewhere things go awry, as the gas overcomes Barbara and the other Xeron.

Ian manages to make his way to the governor’s office, and orders him to take him to the Doctor… but he doesn’t like what he finds.

The Doctor, unconscious.

THE FINAL PHASE

To his dismay, Ian finds the Doctor unconscious in the preparation room. The Moroks have put him into a deep freeze, and according to the governor he’s as good as dead. Ian demands that they reverse the procedure, or else.

Having successfully broken into the armoury, the rebels arm themselves, while Vicki goes back to the museum to rescue the others, taking one of the young men with her.

Inside the museum, Barbara and her companion start to recover from the gas. Well, that was a bit pointless, wasn’t it? Surely it’d be better if the effects took a long time to wear off, so the guards could remove the gas then search the museum without their targets being able to move around.

The Doctor ends up at gunpoint.

The Doctor’s temperature returns to normal, and he wonders if this has been enough to change the future. However, the Moroks, having noticed that the guard outside the TARDIS has disappeared, swoop in on them, knocking Ian out and taking the pair captive once more. Well, that was a bit of a narrative cul-de-sac.

Barbara and her companion continue making their way out of the museum, but a guard hears them coming, and lies in wait to capture them.

The Moroks regroup, and it seems that their victory is close at hand. However, when they try to get a message through to their barracks, they don’t get a reply.

Barbara and her companion up against the wall at gunpoint.

Barbara and her companion emerge from the museum, only to run into the waiting guard. But before their escape can be foiled, Vicki and her friend show up and shoot the guard down. The victory doesn’t last long, as more Moroks arrive and shoot the youth rebels, taking the women captive. Again.

Well, with all the gang captured, at least everybody’s together now. It seems there is nothing they can do to avoid becoming exhibits, but maybe they managed to change more than they thought. The youth storm the museum, having managed to overrun the barracks which happened off-screen probably so that people like me won’t ask questions about how a bunch of teenage boys who have never held a gun managed to overrun a barracks of well-equipped soldiers of an interplanetary empire.

The Moroks are about to cut their losses and make a run for it, but the rebels arrive before the Moroks can dispatch the companions. They wipe them out, and with that, the revolution is won. That is about as interesting as I can make it sound without just making things up.

The Xerons make their attack.

The gang avoid becoming museum pieces, and the future has been averted. The Doctor at last reveals why the weird time shenanigans were going on. Prepare to sigh deeply with me.

It’s a faulty TARDIS component.

Seriously? Nothing to do with the actual plot? That is boring and just plain lazy. With it being so disconnected, the time travel is little more than a gimmick thrown in to make a below-average rebellion story feel more impressive and complex than it actually is. I strongly feel that the element of time travel could have been integrated into the story far better than it actually was, rather than being dropped after the first episode. I could think of a few ways I myself would go about doing it, but perhaps I would be asking for a different story than the one the writer set out to tell.

The Doctor shows Ian and Barbara the faulty component.

The Xerons dismantle the museum, but not before the Doctor liberates a souvenir, in the form of a time and space visualiser. I suppose it’s like a television you can watch next week’s Coronation Street on.

Everyone says their farewells and the TARDIS leaves for parts unknown. However, somewhere else in space, a familiar foe glides into view…

A real Dalek

Final Thoughts

This is unusual for me, as a person incapable of shutting up, but I can’t think of anything else to say about this serial. There’s not really anything much to dig into. Sure, the serial poses the question of whether destiny can be altered, but then answers it with a resounding ‘yes’, so there’s nothing I can add to that. It was all right, I suppose. I'll probably have forgotten about it by this time next week.

I really am wracking my brains trying to think of something interesting to say, but there’s nothing to elaborate on that I didn’t discuss above. So, I suppose that’s my takeaway: so adequate-but-no-better that even I can’t wring a good long ramble out if it.

Well, let’s hope there’s a bit more to get our teeth into next time, okay?

Please exit through the gift shop.

3 out of 5 stars




[May 14, 1965] Keep A Civil Tongue In Your Head (July 1965 Worlds of Tomorrow)


by Victoria Silverwolf

The Four Forbidden Topics

Gathered around the dinner table with the family, or just chatting with friends, it's generally a good idea to avoid controversial subjects. Religion and politics, for example, are likely to lead to unpleasant arguments. Maybe Uncle Fred is a Goldwater buff, and Cousin Sue goes all the way with LBJ. Possibly you've got buddies who belong to different faiths, or none at all. Better to let sleeping dogs lie, and talk about something else.

The topic of money, or economics in general, may not be as controversial, but talking about how much you've got, or what somebody else earns, is generally considered to be in bad taste. As for sex, well, that's usually too personal to discuss, particularly if the kiddies are around.

Maybe it's a sign of the times, or maybe it's the influence of the British New Wave on science fiction, but the lead serial in the latest issue of Worlds of Tomorrow deals with religion, politics, and economics. That leaves sex, which shows up at the end of the magazine, like a tempting dessert.


Cover art by John Pederson, Jr.

Of Godlike Power (Part One of Two), by Mack Reynolds


Illustrations by Jack Gaughan

As indicated in the picture above, this novel takes place in a world of flying cars and other futuristic stuff. More relevant to the plot is the fact that automation results in a majority of folks being unemployed, but enjoying a reasonably comfortable existence in an affluent welfare society.

The protagonist hosts a radio show dealing with flying saucers, reincarnation, and other weird stuff. He's dating the daughter of the tycoon who owns the station, mostly in an attempt to move up to a position in television. Dad, daughter, and the station manager all belong to a right-wing organization dedicated to ferreting out commies and pinkos. (To give you some idea of this group, they think of the John Birch Society as too liberal.)

The manager asks our hero to check out the revival meetings of a preacher whom they suspect of subversion. He's supposed to be on a date with his wealthy girlfriend, so she reluctantly tags along.

The preacher speaks in vaguely religious language of an eccentric sort, frequently making reference to something called the All-Mother. What he really talks about, however, is the world's economic system, condemning wasteful practices such as pointless changes in car design, fads and fashions that come and go, planned obsolescence, and conspicuous consumption.

This is too much for the rich woman, so she heckles him. The preacher loses his temper and rants against makeup, fancy clothing, and elaborate hairdos. The next thing you know, the woman changes her ways, dressing simply and avoiding cosmetics. Not that she agrees with the guy, you understand; it's just that those things make her itch unbearably. Pretty soon the same thing happens to women all over the world, ushering in an era of down home, farm girl fashions.


Crisis in the radio studio!

The preacher winds up on the protagonist's radio show. Things get out of control, so the fellow goes into another tirade, this time against radio and, by extension, television.

The reader is way ahead of the characters by this point, so it's not a big surprise when all broadcasting goes haywire, forcing people to abandon their favorite forms of entertainment. With all those unemployed folks desperate for something to fill their hours, there's a sudden shortage of comic books and magazines. Bars and movie theaters are packed to overflowing. Even the preacher's revival meetings attract huge crowds, just because they have nothing else to do.


Would you buy a used car from this man?

Although not comic in tone, the novel has a strong satiric edge to it. The setting may be some years from now, but the author is really talking about today. The targets of his barbed examination of modern society are overproduction and excess consumption, as well as the seductive power of the electronic media.

The style is very readable, carrying you along as you follow the misadventures of the hapless hero. The preacher's astonishing ability to transform the world may not be particularly plausible, but once you swallow the premise the way it plays out is enjoyable.

Reynolds likes to play games with politics, and perform thought experiments with different economic systems, so I predict the second half of the novel will portray a new society, possibly a utopian one. We'll see if I'm right a couple of months from now.

Four stars.

Coming Out Party, by Robert Lory


Illustration by Norman Nodel

This brief tale begins with a young woman getting ready for the event mentioned in the title. Our first hint that something strange is going on is the fact that she's stark naked in front of her parents. The ceremony is also full of nude women. (Sorry, ladies, all the erotic content of this issue is obviously aimed at a male audience.)

I dare not say anything else about what happens, except to mention that the shock ending is an effective one. This is one of those stories that depends entirely on the twist in its tail. It succeeds at the modest goal it sets for itself.

Three stars.

The Shape of Us to Come, by Michael Girsdansky

Let's take a break from controversial topics of discussion and learn something about the way people might alter their bodies in the future. The author considers the fact that viruses inject their genetic information into the cells of other organisms, using the biological machinery of their hosts to reproduce themselves. The article speculates about the possibility of harnessing this ability to alter the genetics of humans in desirable ways.

Using this technique to treat diseases such as cancer seems reasonably plausible. The suggestion that the body might be changed in radical ways, to ensure survival on alien worlds, is a little less so. In any case, it's an interesting subject, and I learned something about viruses.

Three stars.

World of the Spectrum, by Emil Petaja


Illustrations by John Giunta

Take a look at that picture. We've got a muscular hero with a bladed weapon and a big, ugly monster. Am I reading the wrong magazine? Is this a sword-and-sorcery yarn, rescued from the yellowing pages of Weird Tales?

That's what it seems like at first, but we soon find out that this world of mighty barbarians fighting bizarre creatures exists for the amusement of the upper class on Earth, who vicariously experience the thrill of battle through a kind of telepathic sensory television.

The hero is in mental communication with a woman he thinks of as a princess in a castle located at the top of a cliff that nobody can climb. Naturally, he overcomes impossible odds and reaches the place, only to discover that things are not what they seem.


Don't look down!

The woman is actually a member of the upper class, who secretly belongs to a group of folks working to overthrow their repressive society. She uses a teleportation device to bring the man to Earth, teaching him about the place and enlisting him in her struggle. After many adventures, she confronts the ruler of the world, who turns out to be truly grotesque.


The heroine is shocked by what she sees.

Despite the science fiction explanation for everything, the story feels more like a fantasy adventure. The ruler of Earth might as well be another hideous monster for the hero to destroy. At first, the woman seems to be nothing more than a sexually provocative nitwit, but this is only a role she plays in order to further her plans. The main flaw is the need for a lot of expository dialogue to explain the complex background, with people telling each other things they should already know.

Three stars.

Lunar Weapons Tomorrow, by Joseph Wesley

Before we move on to sex, let's talk about something much less shocking, like war. (There's something wrong with that sentence, but I'll think about it later.)

The author starts this piece about military use of the Moon by dismissing the idea that it could be used to launch missiles at an enemy on Earth. He points out that this method is more difficult, more expensive, less effective, and less defensible than other ways of destroying the planet. Somehow I'm not reassured.

He goes on to imagine lunar military installations, assuming that these will be common in about twenty years or so. His prediction is that these will engage in a kind of lukewarm war, neither one completely destroying the other lest it be wiped out as well. Instead, the opposing forces make relatively minor forays against each other, fighting for territory in a futuristic version of the trench warfare of World War One.

The dry and rather frightening subject of this article is made more readable through the use of a fictional soldier on the Moon. We follow him as he watches for an enemy advance, and even engages in hand-to-hand combat, of a sort, in a spacesuit.

Three stars.

A Glass of Mars, by Robert F. Young


Illustrations by Gray Morrow

The version of the Red Planet depicted in this story is closer to the imaginings of Ray Bradbury than what most scientists believe. Maybe the Mariner 4 spacecraft, now on its way to Mars, will tell us who's right. Anyway, the plot takes place at least a full generation after people colonized the planet, building on the ancient ruins of the long-vanished Martians.

The main character is a new arrival, with romantic ideas about the distant past. In sharp contrast, his secretary, born on Mars, is all about the present. Like other women native to the planet, she is sexually assertive, openly boasting about her measurements, calling herself a sex machine, and offering to sleep with her boss (with the assumption that they will be married soon after.)

While commuting across the surface of Mars, the fellow is miraculously transported to the past. He meets a Martian woman, as delicately beautiful and demure as he imagined.

(In just about all ways except language, the Martian is completely human. We're told, more than once, that she has hyacinth hair. This rather obscure metaphor is taken from Edgar Allan Poe's ode To Helen, and it's not much clearer in the original. The allusion seems designed to suggest the man's dreamy vision of the ancient Martian woman, as romantic as Poe's poem.)


The ancient Martian and the modern human. Gentlemen, which one would you pick?

Without giving too much away, let's just say that the man's assumptions aren't completely accurate. I expected this to be a simple fable about the superiority of the past over the vulgarity of the present, but it's a little more complex than that. The author, no stranger to sentimental love stories and idealization of women, almost seems to be chiding himself for his romantic tendencies. The plot is pure fantasy, of course, but if you can get past that, it's worth a look.

Three stars.

Shall We Talk About It?

Overall, this was a pretty decent issue. Nothing was less than average, and the serialized novel was a high point. Maybe I'm just in a good mood. In any case, I would caution you to make sure that you discuss the themes raised in the magazine only under the right circumstances. Remember what Mom told you!


She didn't mention money or sex. Two out of four ain't bad.







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[May 12, 1965] Da Capo (June 1965 Amazing)


by John Boston

Changing of the Guard

So here we are at the end of the Ziff-Davis Amazing and the editorship of Cele Lalli.  What’s next?  The magazine doesn’t say.  “Coming Next Month” is conspicuous by its absence, as are interior illustrations.  But the story is being told elsewhere.  The banner headline on Science Fiction Times for last month—if “banner” is the word for large crude mimeographed lettering—says “ ‘AMAZING’ AND ‘FANTASTIC’ GO BI-MONTHLY & ADD 32 PAGES,” just above “DON FORD IS DEAD!”

The first post-Z-D issue will be the August Amazing, and thereafter the magazines will be published in alternate months as the new owner and editor try to build circulation, by leaving each issue on sale for a longer time, in preparation for a return to monthly publication.  The new publisher, as previously disclosed, will be Sol Cohen, and now it is announced that the managing editor—presumably, the guy who picks the stories—will be Joseph Ross, actual name Joseph Wrzos, but he is showing mercy to native English spellers.

Part of the plan for the new Amazing (and the new Fantastic too) is to use reprints as part of the contents, along with the original illustrations, a policy the SF Times describes as a “well-liked” recent feature of the Ziff-Davis Amazing.  Well-liked by some, no doubt, but most of the stories seemed to me to have only historical interest. 

Worse, even partial reliance on reprints from Amazing is a bad bet at least for any long term, since Amazing has been pretty mediocre through most of its history.  During the 1930s it fell progressively further behind the limited competition of the day, both in circulation and in interest, and then was purchased by Ziff-Davis and put in the charge of the notorious Ray Palmer, whose instruction to writers is said to have been “Gimme bang-bang.” From 1938 to 1949 Palmer filled the magazine with formulaic and juvenile adventure fiction, much of it produced by a coterie of local Chicago writers who mostly published little or nothing elsewhere, with much of their output in Amazing appearing under “house names” (pseudonyms maintained by the publisher for work by multiple writers).

The magazine enjoyed a brief renaissance (well, maybe a nascence) starting in 1953 when it switched from pulp to digest size and, more importantly, raised its pay rates, attracting bigger names and better material.  But it didn’t last; the rates were cut, and the magazine reverted by late 1954 to calculated mediocrity: mostly formulaic contents written by a new stable of regulars, though they kept some of the old house names, such as the durable Alexander Blade, a byline that flourished from 1940 to 1958.  Little improvement was visible until about 1959, when new editor Cele Goldsmith began her salvage operation.

So the past of Amazing is a barrel whose bottom will be scraped quickly, full of fish mostly not worth shooting.  One hopes for something more forward-looking as well from the new regime.

The Issue at Hand


by Gray Morrow

This final Ziff-Davis issue exemplifies the decidedly mixed bag of the Cele Goldsmith/Lalli regime: a potboiler of a serial from a prominent writer, an exercise in the higher self-parody by one of her best-known discoveries, a brief inconsequential story by a completely unknown new writer . . . the inescapable nemesis Robert F. Young . . . and David R. Bunch, the writer the readers loved to hate.  Not only is his story flagged and illustrated on the cover, but Bunch is also profiled and quoted extensively in the final editorial.  (Usually they’re by Lobsenz, but this one isn’t signed.  Lalli, maybe, at last?) This celebration of Bunch might be viewed as a final gesture of defiance from the editorial team, especially given the cover illustration of a robot waving two sledge hammers in fury.  But . . . probably not.  After all, Lalli is sticking around Ziff-Davis to edit Modern Bride.

The Corridors of Time (Part 2 of 2), by Poul Anderson

The largest fiction item is the conclusion of Poul Anderson’s perfectly adequate but neither inspired nor inspiring serial The Corridors of Time, the title of which is unfortunately literal.  Our hero Lockridge has been hired by the beautiful, enigmatic, and imperious Storm Dalloway to help her find some buried treasure in Jutland, but what she’s really about is a time war.  Turns out there are two contending factions, the Wardens and the Rangers, the former (Storm’s side) supporting a relaxed social philosophy consonant with matriarchal religion and traditional knowledge, the latter supporting a more regimented view consonant with science and patriarchal religion (to oversimplify grossly—and it is a bit of a set-up on Anderson’s part). 

So how does this time war work?  Well, there’s the rub, or lack of one.  Unlike its predecessors—Leiber’s Change War series, Jack Williamson’s The Legion of Time, Anderson’s own Time Patrol stories—in this one, you can’t change history.  So . . . what’s the point?  Well, as the synopsis (presumably written by Anderson) puts it, an agent can “become part of it, setting the mark of his own civilization on a culture and thus building up reserves for a final showdown.” That’s not changing history?  Maybe just a little?

This makes no sense at all, and undermines the story.  The time travel mechanism doesn’t help either.  The Corridors of Time are just that, long corridors buried in the earth at various places, with access to various times over spans of a few thousand years; just walk or ride down the corridor, and you go 35 days per foot, and you take the exit you want for the time you want, and also you can have chases and shootouts up and down the corridor, as happens within the first few pages.  As icons of the imagination go, this is pretty unimaginative.

On the plus side, Anderson gets to chase his characters around various historical eras, which Anderson seems to know well and in most cases to prefer to the present, and Lockridge reluctantly finds himself with an appealing Neolithic girlfriend (setting up an . . . unusual . . . triangle with Miss Dalloway), and ultimately Lockridge decides not to go back to the Twentieth Century, in a final affirmation of the barbarian virtues.  Overall, perfectly readable product, but below standard for a writer who has done much better.  Three stars, barely.  There’s a note indicating an expanded version is to come from Doubleday later.

The Furies, by Roger Zelazny

Roger Zelazny’s novelet The Furies is ridiculous—purposefully so, it seems.  The author spends the first six pages in exposition, introducing us to Sandor Sandor, catastrophically disabled, but also a non-idiot savant with encyclopedic knowledge and memory of places all around the galaxy; Benedick Benedict, who upon shaking hands with another person, becomes privy to all that person’s most shameful secrets, which he proceeds to gossip about—and his talents extend to inanimate objects and animals; Lynx Links, who “looked like a beachball with a beard” but by calling is the galaxy’s most accomplished assassin; and (former) Captain Victor Corgo, “the man without a heart” (literally, replaced by a machine), formerly “a terror to brigands and ugly aliens, a threat to Code-breakers, and a thorn in the sides of evil-doers everywhere,” but now gone wrong.

The first three of these are the Furies, so-called by the author after the ancient Greeks’ “chthonic goddesses of vengeance” (says the Britannica), here retained by the authorities to chase down Corgo, a sort of Captain Nemo figure who has turned against humanity based on outrages we need not recount.  The story is rendered throughout in extravagant language and stylized dialogue.  A mid-range sample of the former:

“One time the Wallaby [Corgo’s spaceship] was a proud Guardship, an ebony toadstool studded with the jewel-like warts of fast-phase projectors.  One time the Wallaby skipped proud about the frontier worlds of Interstel, meting out the unique justice of the Uniform Galactic Code—in those places where there was no other law.  One time the proud Wallaby, under the command of Captain Victor Corgo of the Guard, had ranged deep space and time and become a legend under legendary skies.”

So what we have here is midway between a technical exercise and a barroom bet.  Zelazny has taken about the most hackneyed materials available and tried to render them publishable by pure force of his considerable writing skill, no doubt enhanced by his theatrical background, and he has succeeded.  That is, he has dazzled enough rubes to get this into print, and has considerably amused me.  If the young Shakespeare had started out in comic books (the names and talents of the Furies certainly suggest comic-book superheroes), the result might have been similar.  Four stars, but watch it, guy: you can’t get away with this more than once.  Or can you?

The Walking Talking I-Don't-Care Man, by David R. Bunch

As for Bunch (and speaking of extravagant language) the latest Moderan tale The Walking Talking I-Don’t-Care Man is made of that, though it’s more straightforward and lucid than some of its predecessors.  The titular Man has had himself entirely replaced with metal, unlike Bunch’s protagonist in his Stronghold who still hangs on to his flesh-strips.  The Man purports to have resolved the great philosophical dilemma of human existence by giving up humanity . . . but he still wouldn’t mind finding God and going after it with his sledge hammers. 

One could conclude that this meditation, or harangue, on last things might be the end of the Moderan series . . . except the point seems to be that last things really aren’t last.  But hey, four stars, at least in the spirit of “best of breed,” which I’d say this is for Bunch.  Note to future bibliographers: the commas in the title on the cover do not appear inside the magazine.

Rumpelstiltskinski, by Robert F. Young

And now comes the inexorable reckoning: Robert F. Young, square athwart the road, and no shoulder to slip by on.  First the bad news: Rumplestiltskinski is another of Young’s affected fairy tale rehashes, beginning “Once there was a miller who was car-poor but who had a luscious dish of a daughter named Ada.” The good news: it’s quite short and ostentatiously pointless, a sort of shaggy fairy story, perhaps signifying that Young is getting tired of himself.  Let me encourage him in that.  One star.

Satyr, by Judith E. Schrier

Finally, and almost imperceptibly, we have Satyr, a (very) short story by Judith E. Schrier.  Who?  Precisely—no one else has heard of her either, at least according to the available indexes.  An unmarried older woman works the night shift as a computer operator and the computer professes its love, she realizes how masculine it is, etc. etc. to the obvious end. Slickly written, at least.  Two stars, barely.

Lo! The Poor Forteans, by Sam Moskowitz

Sam Moskowitz plays out his season (rumor having it that he won’t be part of the new Amazing) with Lo! The Poor Forteans, a moderately interesting biographical sketch of Charles Fort and history of the Fortean movement, such as it is or was.  There is also some rambling and mostly perfunctory discussion of the Fortean influence in science fiction, much of which we know about because the authors (like Edmond Hamiliton and Eric Frank Russell) have commented on it, but much of which is questionable (The Children’s Hour by Lawrence O’Donnell a/k/a C.L. Moore?  I doubt it).  Moskowitz has also omitted some other fairly obvious candidates like Heinlein’s The Puppet Masters.  Moskowitz also tediously belabors his own disdain for Forteanism.  But still, three stars, chiefly for the history and not the commentary.

Summing Up

The Ziff-Davis Amazing under Lalli was always full of promise but never managed to deliver on it for more than a month or two at a time.  It winds down on a respectable note, with above-average stories from two of its most characteristic authors, plus a competent middle-of-the-road serial.  Quo nunc vadis Amazing?



Speaking of changed circumstances at publishing houses, please read this — it's important!




[May 10, 1965] A Language for the Masses (Talking to a Machine, Part Three)

This is part three of our series on programming in the modern computer age.  Last time, we discussed the rise of user-oriented languages.  We now report on the latest of them and why it's so exciting.


by Gideon Marcus

Revolution in Mathematics

The year was 1793, and the new Republic of France was keen to carry its revolution to the standardization of weights and measures.  The Bureau du cadastre (surveying) had been tasked to construct the most accurate tables of logarithms ever produced, based on the recently developed, more convenient decimal division of the angles.  Baron Gaspard Clair François Marie Riche de Prony was given the job of computing the natural logarithm of all integers from 1 to 200,000 — to more than 14 places of accuracy!

Recognizing that there were not enough mathematicians in all of France to complete this project in a reasonable amount of time, he turned to another revolutionary concept: the assembly line.  Borrowing inspiration from the innovation as described in Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations, he divided the task into three tiers.  At the top level were the 5-6 of the most brilliant math wizards, including Adrien-Marie Legendre.  They selected the best formulas for computation of logarithms.  These formulas were then passed on to eight numerical analysts expert in calculus, who developed procedures for computation as well as error-check computations.  In today's parlance, those top mathematicians would be called "systems analysts" and the second tier folks would be "programmers."

Of course, back then, there were no digital machines to program.  Instead, de Prony assembled nearly a hundred (and perhaps more) human "computers." These men were not mathematicians; indeed, the only operations they had to conduct were addition and subtraction!  Thanks to this distributed labor system, the work was completed in just two years.

The Coming Revolution

These days, thanks to companies like IBM, Rand, and CDC, digital computers have become commonplace — more than 10,000 are currently in use!  While these machines have replaced de Prony's human calculators, they have created their own manpower shortage.  With computation so cheap and quick, and application of these computations so legion, the bottleneck is now in programmers.  What good does it do to have a hundred thousand computers in the world (a number being casually bandied about for near future years like 1972) if they sit idle with no one to feed them code?

As I showed in the first article of this series, communication between human and the first computers required rarefied skills and training.  For this reason, the first English-like programming languages were invented; they make coding more accessible and easier to learn. 

But developing programs in FORTRAN or COBOL or ALGOL is still challenging.  Each of these languages is specialized for their particular function: FORTRAN, ALGOL, and LISP are for mathematical formulas, COBOL for business and record keeping.  Moreover, all of these "higher-level" programming languages require an assembly program, a program that turns the relatively readable stuff produced by the programmer into the 1s and 0s a computer can understand.  It's an extra bit of work every time, and every code error that stalls the compiler is a wasted chunk of precious computer time.

By the early 1960s, there were folks working on both of these problems — the solution combined answers to both.

BASICally

In 1963 Dartmouth Professor John Kemeny got a grant from the National Science Foundation to implement a time-sharing system on a GE-225 computer.  Time-sharing, if you recall from Ida Moya's article last year, allows multiple users to access a computer at the same time, the machine running multiple processes simultaneously.


Photo Credit: Dartmouth College

Kemeny and his team, including Professor Thomas Kurtz and several undergrads, succeeded in completing the time-share project.  Moreover, in the interest of making computing available to everyone, they also developed a brand-new programming language. 

Beginner's All-purpose Symbolic Instruction Code, or BASIC, was the first language written specifically for novices.  In many ways, it feels similar to FORTRAN.  Here's an example of the "add two numbers" program I showed you last time:

5 PRINT "ADD TWO NUMBERS"
6 PRINT
10 READ A, B
20 LET C=A+B
30 PRINT "THE ANSWER IS", C
50 PRINT "ANOTHER? (1 FOR YES, 2 FOR NO)"
60 READ D
70 IF D = 1 THEN 6
80 IF D = 2 THEN 90
90 PRINT
100 PRINT "THANKS FOR ADDING!"
9999 END

Pretty easy to read, isn't it?

You might notice is that there's no initial declaration of variables.  You can code blithely along, and if you discover you need another variable (as I did at line 60), just go ahead and use one!  This can lead to sloppy structure, but again, the priority is ease of use without too many formal constraints. 

Indeed, there's really not much to the language — the documentation for BASIC comprises 23 pages, including sample programs.

So let me tell you the real earth-shaking thing about BASIC: the compiler is built in

On the Fly

Let's imagine that you are a student at Stuffy University.  Before time-sharing, if you wanted to run a program on the computer, you'd have to write the thing on paper, then punch it into cards using an off-line cardpunch, then humbly submit the cards to one of the gnomes tending the Big Machine.  He would load the FORTRAN (or whatever language) compiler into the Machine's memory.  Then he'd run your cards through the Machine's reader.  Assuming the compiler didn't choke, you might get a print-out of the program's results later that day or the next.

Now imagine that, through time-sharing, you have a terminal (a typewriter with a TV screen or printer) directly attached to the Machine.  That's a revolution in and of itself because it means you can type your code directly into a computer file.  Then you can type the commands to run the compiler program on your code, turning it into something the Machine can understand (provided the compiler doesn't choke on your bad code).

But what if, instead of that two-step process, you could enter code into a real-time compiler, one that can interpret as you code?  Then you could test individual statements, blocks of code, whole programs, without ever leaving the coding environment.  That's the revolution of BASIC.  The computer is always poised and ready to RUN the program without your having to save the code into a separate file and run a compiler on it. 


Kemeny watches his daughter, Jennifer, program — not having to bother with a compiler is particularly nice when you haven't got a screen!  Photo Credit: Dartmouth College

Moreover, you don't need to worry about arcane commands telling the program where to display output or where to find input (those numbers after every READ and WRITE command in FORTRAN.  It's all been preconfigured into the program language environment.

To be sure, making the computer keep all of these details in mind results in slower performance, but given the increased speed of machines these days and the relatively undemanding nature of BASIC programs, this is not too important. 

For the People

The goal of BASIC is to change the paradigm of computing.  If Kemeny has his way, programming will no longer be the exclusive province of the lab-coated corporate elites nor the young kooks at MIT who put together SPACEWARS!, the first computer game.  The folks at Dartmouth are trying to socialize computing, to introduce programming to people in all walks of life in anticipation of the day that there are 100,000 (or a million or a billion) computers available for use.

Vive la révolution!


Photo Credit: Dartmouth College



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[May 8, 1965] Skip to the end (June 1965 Galaxy)


by Gideon Marcus

Impatience

Normally, I'd open up with a discussion at length of the news of the day.  Like how the United States is still knee-deep in the Dominican Republic, losing soldiers to snipers every day despite the ceasefire between the current military-civilian junta government and the supporters of ousted President Bosch.

Or that Collie Wilkins Jr. was acquitted by a 10-2 hung jury in a trial for the murder of civil rights activist Viola Liuzzo, shot in her car after the Selma rallies.  Wilkins' defense attorney's statements included language so profane and racist that I cannot transcribe them here.

Or that the comedy/news show, That was the Week that Was, had its final show on May 4th.

And then, having given my report, I'd tie it pithily to the subject at hand, namely the June 1965 Galaxy science fiction digest.  But the fact is, there's lots to cover and I'm anxious to get it all down while it's still fresh in my mind.  So, you'll just have to pretend that I was clever and comprehensive in my introduction.  On to the important stuff:

Bob Sheckley and friends


by George Schelling

As is happening more and more often, the king-sized bi-monthly, Galaxy, is dominated by a short novel this month.  This time, it's by a fellow who probably was the best SF short story writer of the 1950s.  Bob Sheckley has turned to novels of late with something less than (to my mind) great success. The Journey of Joenes, The Status Civilization, Time Killer — none of them were triumphs, though some disagree.  Will this time be different?

Mindswap, by Robert Sheckley

Young Marvin Flynn is bored to death of living in the bucolic New York town of Stanhope, desperate enough to risk "mindswap."  And so, Marvin exchanges minds with the Martian, Aigeler Thrus.  Unfortunately, Thrus' body was currently occupied by the unscrupulous Ze Kraggash, who had taken residency to elude the police after a crime.  Thrus is entitled to his body; Kraggash has Flynn's.  This leaves Flynn six hours to find a body, any body, or be extinguished forever.


by George Schelling

An increasingly frantic Flynn ends up bopping across the galaxy, first as a collector of sentient ganzer-eggs on Melde, somewhere near Aldeberan; then on to Celsus for a stint as a professional victim wearing a ticking time bomb gift; and ultimately to a reality-bending place called The Twisted World.

It's complete fluff, vaguely satirical and fun-pointing, but for the most part, pointless.  I went along with it, mildly amused for about 60 pages, before my tolerance ran out and I skimmed the rest.  Unlike Harrison's brilliant and cutting Starsloggers, Mindswap is just self-indulgent…and far too long. 

Two stars.

Servant Problem, by Otis Kidwell Burger

On the dreary, sandstorm-plagued planet of Dexter, there's little for the married couples to do but drink and kvetch about their house-servants, a race of off-putting aliens that only look like middle-aged spinsters.  After an endless seven pages of this stuff, we learn that the servants are actually the masters, and the humans are being evaluated for their level of social development.  Turns out they're in the emotional equivalent of kindergarten.

Yeah, I didn't get it either.  Two stars.

Blue Fire, by Robert Silverberg

Nat Weiner, visitor from newly terraformed Mars, the "Sparta of space," arrives on Earth to sample the luxuries of an overcrowded, decadent world.  Assigned to escort him is Reynolds Kirby, a "major bureacrat who gets paid like a minor one."  Together, they attend a spiritual gathering of the devotees of Vorster, a pseudo-scientific cult that preaches the unity of humanity and worships at the altar of the cobalt reactor. 

Vorsterism is just one of many avenues of relief against the physical and mental crush of living amongst 10 billions; hallucinogens are also popular, and the upperclassmen, like Kirby, favor the sensory deprivation "Nothing Chambers".  Cosmetic replacement of external features with metal and plastic substitutes is popular. 


by Jack Gaughan

As the tour of the once-proud homeworld progresses, Weiner becomes increasingly belligerent, resolved to steal a Vorster nuke and put it to "worthwhile use" as an energy-generating reactor on Mars.  Through Kirby's interactions with Weiner, and with the Vanna, a Vorsterian with a face modifed to inhuman grotesqueness, Kirby comes to see his own life as a hollow shell of an existence and reconsiders all of his carefully created precepts.

Blue Fire is a day-in-the-life of a fellow on the edge of a midlife crisis in a tired world.  With deft writing and vivid imagery, Silverberg accomplishes in 25 pages what usually takes Philip K. Dick a full novel.

Five stars.

Think of a Man, by Karen Anderson

Poetess Anderson offers up a latter-day space shanty.  It might make a decent filk, but it will likely leave no great impression on you.

Three stars.

For Your Information: The Observatory on the Moon, by Willy Ley

Observatory on the Moon, by Donald H. Menzel

An Eye For Selene, by R. S. Richardson

The idea that astronomy is better conducted on the Moon than Earth is an old one.  Not only is Earth's celestial neighbor airless, but its slow rotation makes it much easier to do long film exposures.

This should be a fascinating topic; instead, this is probably the least interesting article Ley's ever written.  A truly disappointing development for a column that was a major selling point when I first began my subscription to Galaxy 15 years ago. 

The short counterpoint following the main article is equally undistinguished.  Richardson's comments, on the other hand, are interesting. 

Barely three stars for the lot.

Devil Car, by Roger Zelazny

Sam Murdock speeds across the Great Central Plain of a post-apocalyptic United States in his sentient car, name of Jenny.  His monomaniacal mission: to destroy the black Devil Car and his minions, who have been savaging the continent.  Though Murdock's conviction never wavers, Jenny is torn between her programmed loyalty to her driver, and to the Devil Car's sirensong call to join his pack.

Plausible?  Not for a second.  Slick and enjoyable?  Absolutely.  Four stars, and I'll bet this gets optioned for a movie or episode of a Twilight Zone revival.

One Face, by Larry Niven


by Nodel

Last up is the third short story from this promising new writer, which may or may not take place in the same universe as his recent short novel, World of Ptavvs.  The passenger liner, Hogan's Goat, has an accident in hyperspace on the way to Earth.  It ends up at the right place but billions of years in the future.  The Sun is a burned out husk, and humanity's home is an airless world with one face permanently locked toward its star.  With no way home and nowhere to go, Verd Spacercaptain, his crew and passengers, and their increasingly debilitated computer Brain must find a way to survive.

I'm not entirely sold on the science of this piece, but Niven has a way of creating a very rich world in just a few pages.  It's also obvious that Niven is a new writer: his cohort has no problem with presenting women as equal partners and in roughly equal numbers to men; moreover, he displays no preference in terms of skin tone or ethnicity.

Four stars.

Satisfaction

How to judge the latest Galaxy?  It contains a full issue's worth of slag, but then again, it contains almost a full issue's worth of gold.  Perhaps it needs to be a regular length bi-monthly?

Especially since editor Pohl is crowing about how next month's novel will be even longer, and by Frank Herbert.

God help us all…



Our last three Journey shows were a gas!  You can watch the kinescope reruns here).  You don't want to miss the next episode, May 9 at 1PM PDT, a special Arts and Entertainment edition featuring Arel Lucas, Cora Buhlert, Erica Frank…and Dr. Who producer, Verity Lambert! Register today and we'll make sure you don't forget.




[May 6, 1965] Back To Our Roots (New Writings in SF4 & Over Sea, Under Stone)


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

A Musical Introduction

Bob Dylan is in the middle of his sellout tour of England and folk revival is hitting the mainstream as a result. Dylan himself has 2 singles and 4 albums in the charts.

Bob Dylan 1965 UK Tour

Also accompanying him on tour is Joan Baez who has reached mainstream attention with We Shall Overcome. Then we have home grown efforts such as the Iain Campbell Folk Group and Donovan, already proclaimed by some as The British Dylan.

Catch the wind

At the same time Country is doing pretty well with King of the Road sitting at number 2 and Jim Reeves continuing his presence with Not Until Next Time.

King of the Road

Whether this foreshadows a more permanent move away from the kind of pop music we have seen in the last few years remains to be seen. However, this is also true in today’s reviews, where the two books of May's first Galactoscopes represent a norm and a departure from it: Carnell presents us with a selection of tales representing many of the traditional themes of science fiction and we get a fantasy novel that is very much part of an older tradition.

New Writings in SF4 ed. by John Carnell

New Writings in SF 4

John Carnell continues his quarterly anthology series, with another solid but unremarkable edition. Whilst he talks in his editorial about each edition having a particular flavour, it seems to me that they are pretty much of a piece. In fact the main difference here from last time is the presence of a slightly higher number of reprints.

High Eight by David Stringer

This is not a new author but rather a new pseudonym for Keith Roberts, the ridiculously prolific writer for every British SF publication. In this piece Rick Cameron, a line maintenance boss at Saskeega Power, is investigating a series of deaths by electrocution, where people are apparently going too close to the lines. But is something else happening?

Unlike many I am not highly enamoured with Mr. Roberts' writing and the seeming combination of hard-boiled speech and use of offensive terms such as “halfbreed Indian” put me off this tale particularly.

Even putting that aside the main aim of this story seems to be to make electricity scary but doesn’t really succeed in doing it any more than it naturally is. It is certainly not the thought-provoking tale Carnell promises in his introduction.

One Star

Star Light by Isaac Asimov

The first of our reprints is this short vignette from the good doctor, originally appearing in Scientific American. Trent and Berenmeyer have stolen a fortune in Krillium, used to make robot brains, but now need to make a hyperspace jump to escape the police pursuing them.
I get the sense of Asimov writing on auto-pilot. It is not actually bad but if I was to get someone to write an imitation of his work it would end up something like this.

A high two Stars

Hunger Over Sweet Waters by Colin Kapp

On Hebron V, Blick and Martha are both stranded at floating processing stations after the power goes down and they set about working out how to survive.

The introduction says that Colin Kapp is “fast becoming one of our most popular sci-fi writers”, which is certainly news to me. Like The Dark Mind I thought this was fine, just a little old fashioned. This is the kind of problem story which would have looked at home in Astounding a decade ago. Well written, enjoyable but forgettable.

Three Stars

The Country of the Strong by Dennis Etchison

Our second reprint, this one from Seventeen magazine. This is a short evocative piece exploring a landscape after some kind of an apocalypse (probably a nuclear war from the description). Doesn’t have much meat to it but some good bones.

A high three stars

Parking Problem by Dan Morgan

A more silly satirical piece from another of the old New Worlds regulars. In the late twentieth century a solution to parking problems in inner cities is resolved by the development of extra-dimensional parking garages. Crunch and Pulver, two small-time criminals, attempt to break into one of these to steal high-priced vehicles.
Things end up taking a more surreal turn as it goes along and I found it quite sharp in the end.

Three and a half stars.

Sub-Lim by Keith Roberts

It seems you can never just have one Keith Roberts story in any issue, though this one appears without any pseudonym. Here he takes on subliminal messaging where drawings seem to be able to control people’s minds.

Whilst the subject matter is a rather well-trodden theme Roberts brings a great style to it and has an excellent twist ending.

Four Stars

Bernie the Faust by William Tenn

As noted in the introduction this piece, originally from Playboy, has already been reprinted in one of Judith Merrill’s excellent 'best of the year collections' (which I highly recommend), and it is easy to see why. Bernie is a salesman who has an unusual man, Mr Ogo Eskar, come into his store asking to buy increasingly more ridiculous things and thinks he is on to a great deal. But ends up regretting his choices.

As the name suggests, this is a modern take on the Faust story but with a nice twist and a real understanding of human psychology.

Four Stars

On the whole, a solid issue which got better as it went along. The only real disappointment was High-Eight and that could well be due to my aversion to some of Roberts’ work.

One other note. Paperback editions have started coming out for these from Corgi which, at 3/6 much more reasonable than the hardcover editions, at 16 shillings. Whilst I wouldn’t recommend picking these up over a copy of Science Fantasy and New Worlds, these are still very much worth the price.

Over Sea, Under Stone by Susan Cooper

Over Sea Under Stone

Whilst I had more books as a child than many people I knew, with a school teacher for a mother, juvenile fantasy was not as big as it is today. We had Edith Nesbit’s, TH White’s and Mary Norton’s stories, along with The Hobbit, but primarily I read more adventure stories in the style of The Famous Five or Swallows and Amazons.

It seems since the release of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe there has been an explosion in excellent British fantasy stories from the pre-teen market. These include Roger Lancelyn’s Green take on King Arthur, Tom’s Midnight Garden, the Green Knowe and Alderley Edge stories, as well as more unusual works like Stig of the Dump or the Paddington books.

I now have a twelve-year-old sister and a nine-year-old brother who live in rural Ireland. As such they do not tend to see many of these books, so I like to try to find the best ones and send them over. This one certainly does not seem to be doing anything particularly new but looks like it could be another enjoyable series for the pre-teens.

We start off in the same mode as is traditional for British fantasy at least as far back as Nesbit, with a group of children (Simon, Jane and Barney) going to visit relatives in the countryside, this time their great uncle Merry in Cornwall.

The children decide to pretend to have a treasure hunt in the house they are staying in. In doing so they find first a secret attic filled with strange artifacts, then hidden within that, an ancient map. Taking it to their great uncle Merry they are told this relates to King Arthur, the battle between Good and Evil, and the Holy Grail.

In spite of the ominous tones that suggests for the story, it is actually rather an old fashioned jolly jape. Whilst there is a threat from another interested party, much of the time is spent with the three children (and a dog named Rufus) wandering around the countryside searching for clues. As such there is little doom and gloom but instead a real sense of fun.

One disappointment is the children feel rather thinly sketched here. In each of the Narnia books whoever is in the adventures has a distinct personality. Here it often feels Barney, Jane and Simon are interchangeable, merely serving the story function.

I am also trying to work out the time period this is meant to be set in. The children refer to the old fashioned way of speaking of some of the people in Cornwall but the main family still sound like they are from my childhood. Cooper was apparently inspired to write this story in response to a competition to write in the style of Nesbit so maybe this is an intentional artistic choice?

But in spite of my quibbles this is still an enjoyable story. What Cooper manages to do just as well as Blyton or Ransome have ever done is capture the joie de vivre of being a child having adventures in the English countryside and cast me back to my own young trips to Cornwall and Devon, clambering around Glastonbury or Tintagel hoping I might find the Sword in the Stone or a knight’s tomb. Certainly one I will be posting to my siblings when it comes into paperback and an author I will be keeping my eye on.

Rating: Three and a half stars

Coda

Is this a good direction for science fiction and fantasy? Honestly I think it can depend more on what the writer does with it. Both of these are enjoyable but not revolutionary publications. What I would like to see more of is works doing new things with these themes, as Tenn does with the Faust myth, rather than wholesale revivals as Doc Smith seems to be doing currently in If.

Whilst I wait to see which side it comes down on, I will join with the rest of the listeners of Big L in trying to guess what the actual the lyrics to Subterranean Homesick Blues are. Did he really sing "clients are in the bed book"?



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[May 2, 1965] FORWARD INTO THE PAST (June 1965 IF)


by David Levinson

Science fiction is generally considered to be literature that looks ahead. Much of Western culture also seems to be fairly obsessed with the miracles of progress and moving into a brighter future. Even communism, though less materially oriented, talks a good game about a better tomorrow. But there are also those who look to the past for better times, longing for the “good old days.” We can see the clash of these two world views in one form or another nearly every day in the newspapers. Perhaps the most obvious example can be seen in the Old South, where progress is resisted with fire hoses and police dogs. There, at least, we can hope that the moral arc of the universe is rather shorter than is its wont.

Looking Backwards

Details are still sketchy, but it appears that a coup was prevented last month in Bulgaria. Emboldened by the fall of Nikita Khrushchev and possibly influenced by the rhetoric of Mao Tse Tung, hardliners in the Bulgarian military and Communist Party denounced General-Secretary Todor Zhivkov for revisionism and opportunism due to his de-Stalinization of Bulgarian communism. Arrests between April 8th and 12th, as well as at least one suicide by a high-ranking general, seem to have prevented a major step back into the bad old days of Stalinism in Bulgaria. State-controlled media, of course, are denying the whole thing, but rumors abound.

Inside Baseball

On April 9th, the Houston Astros inaugurated their new stadium in an exhibition game against the Yankees. “Who?” you ask. For the last three seasons, they’ve been known as the Colt .45s. Now the sole owner, Judge Roy Hofheinz changed the name to the Astros to reflect Houston’s important role in America’s space program, and the new stadium will be called the Astrodome. What’s so noteworthy about all this? As you might have gathered from the name, the Astrodome has a roof. Over 700 feet in diameter, the dome consists a grid of semi-transparent panes of Lucite, and the field is covered with grass specially bred to be able to grow under the lower light conditions.


The Eighth Wonder of the World may be Texan hyperbole, but it is impressive

As any science fiction fan will tell you, innovations often produce unexpected consequences. That’s what half the stories in the field are about. As Victoria Silverwolf reported a couple of weeks ago, the problem in this case is that on bright, sunny days – and Houston has a lot of those – the glare from the roof panels and the grid of shadows caused by the support structure are causing players to lose routine fly balls. The decision has been made to paint the Lucite panes white, and a couple of sections have already been covered. The question now is if the grass will still get enough light to grow.

There was another experiment at the Astrodome that seems unlikely to be repeated. A catwalk structure hangs from the top of the dome. I don’t know how far above the field it is, but the peak of the dome is 208 feet above the playing surface. On April 28th, Mets radio broadcaster Lindsey Nelson was persuaded to call the game from the gondola. He was too scared to stand up until the seventh inning, getting the play-by-play via walkie-talkie from his producer. When he finally did get to his feet, he realized he couldn’t tell one player from another or a pop fly from a line drive. He refused to go up again, and it seems unlikely that anybody will follow in his footsteps. It might offer an interesting angle for a television camera, though.

Space Opera and Superscience

Lately, it has felt like science fiction has been doing a fair bit of looking back, too, what with the Edgar Rice Burroughs revival, Sprague de Camp putting Conan back in print, John Jakes’ Conan pastiche Brak, et cetera, et cetera, and so forth. The three magazines under Fred Pohl’s leadership, in particular, seem to have been on a real space opera kick for a while. This month’s IF is no exception.


This supposedly illustrates Skylark DuQuesne. If so, it’s not a scene in this month’s installment. Art by Pederson

Skylark DuQuesne (Part 1 of 5), by E. E. Smith, Ph. D.

Dick Seaton, hero of the previous three Skylark books, is enjoying an evening at home with his family, when they are interrupted by the thought-projected simulacra of the ablest thinkers of the galaxy. It seems that the clever ploy which he used to imprison the evil thought entities and the disembodied mind of the villainous Dr. Marc C. “Blackie” DuQuesne at the end of Skylark of Valeron is doomed to imminent failure. Seaton’s partner Mart Crane is brought in, and a plan is hatched in which a thought message is sent out, which can only be received by beings who are of good will can help in the situation.

The scene shifts to the home world of the “monstrous” Llurdi on the edge of the universe. The leaders are discussing Project University, in which the best minds of their human slaves the Jelmi are given everything they could need or want in the hopes that they will produce new technologies for the Llurdi. The proceedings are interrupted by a suicide attack by 30 Jelmi attempting to give their fellows the opportunity to escape. They fail. No one is even killed on either side. Supremely logical, the Llurdi pack the revolting Jelmi into a spaceship and allow them to “escape”.


The Jelmi (background) confront their oppressors, the Llurdi. Art by Gray Morrow

Aboard the ship, the Jelmi deduce that they are being tracked, and that the Llurdi will give them free rein for a couple of generations, then swoop in, re-enslave their descendants and gather up anything new that’s been invented. They decide to seek out a world with sufficient sixth-order (I believe that means thought energy) forces to screen them from Llurdi scanning. The planet they choose: Earth.

Next, the scene jumps to a previously unknown Fenachrone fleet. The Fenachrone were the bad guys of Skylark Three, and Dick Seaton vaporized their home world at the end of that book. In Skylark of Valeron, Seaton learns of a secret colony ship, which he then hunts down and destroys. Now we find out that there’s yet another secret fleet composed of the evilest evil-doers of an evil people. In any case, the Fenachrone stumble upon a system containing two inhabited planets, one Llurdi and one Jelmi, whereupon the Fenachrone leader orders the vaporization of those two worlds. This draws the attention of the Llurdi, who proceed to destroy 16 of the 17 Fenachrone ships and capture the flagship.

Cut lastly to the ship containing the disembodied minds mentioned earlier. They have decided that Blackie DuQuesne doesn’t have what it takes to be one of them. They set him up with a ship capable of getting him to Earth and stick him back into his body. After a brief interlude in which the Seatons and the Cranes (both with infant children) as well as Crane’s former manservant Shiro and his new wife Lotus Blossom board the Skylark of Valeron, we cut back to DuQuesne. He is somehow detected by the Llurdi, but manages to evade them with his powerful mind blocks. Realizing how formidable the Llurdi are, DuQuesne sends out a call to Dick Seaton. To be continued.

Disclaimer: I do not care for the works of Doc Smith. I tried rereading the original Skylark five or six years ago, and flung it across the room in disgust about a quarter of the way through. On the other hand, I did rather enjoy The Imperial Stars last year, so I tried to approach this with an open mind.

When an English teacher, a critic, or even an author who has written what is very obviously science fiction condemns the genre with a wave of the hand, this is the kind of stuff they’re talking about. At best, it’s the genre’s juvenilia and is utterly unrepresentative of what science fiction is today. Line by line, there is some decent writing here. The opening paragraph is lovely. Too bad nothing that follows is worthy of it.

But my biggest problem is with the main protagonist. Firstly, Dick Seaton is racist. He would no doubt be shocked by this statement and point out that some of his best friends are green. I don’t mean he’d be likely to burn a cross on anyone’s lawn or join the Friends of Bull Connor, but the casual ease with which he tosses out phrases like “a Chinaman’s chance” or “If that’s true, then I’m a Digger Indian” (and what do you want to bet that phrase was cleaned up for publication) say a lot about how he views fellow humans who aren’t quite like him. Secondly and more importantly, Dick Seaton is a war criminal. He turned the Fenachrone world into a ball of expanding incandescent gas, and when he found out there were survivors, he hunted them down and killed them, too. When the Fenachrone leader destroyed those two worlds, we’re told he did it without remorse. If Seaton felt a twinge of remorse, that doesn’t make what he did any better.

Anyway, it’s hard to judge this as a whole, since the whole thing is really Smith just setting up the pieces, but it’s pretty bad. A low two stars, just because of that opening paragraph and the fact that I was able to get through the whole thing without too much effort. Even if you’re overcome with nostalgia, I doubt it could get all the way to three.

Simon Says, by Lawrence S. Todd

Lieutenant Nestil Lagotilom, an eight-foot tall reptilian (it’s not clear if he’s a mutant or an alien), is a member of the Terran armed forces, serving in a war against the Birds. Thanks to his brilliant tactical mind, he’s been ordered to take part in an experimental operation involving a new device called SIMO (Subelectronic Integrator for the Manipulation of Objects). Contrary to what it sounds like, it’s not a robot arm, but rather a device that will allow Nestil’s mind to be imprinted on some 2,000 Terran soldiers, and, once the action is over, all their experiences will be pumped back into his head so he can write a detailed after-action report. Thanks to a series of mishaps, Nestil’s consciousness winds up imprinted not only on the Terran troops, but the Birds and the local natives who aren’t happy about either group being there. Chaos ensues.


Lt. Nestil about to have his consciousness expanded. Art by Giunta

We go from the man who’s been at the science fiction game the longest to the newest. Larry Todd is this month’s IF first, though he’s not a complete newcomer. He’s had a few cartoons published, mostly in the late Imagination, but this is his first story. It shows. It rambles a bit, and the tone is a little too light for some of the things that happen. Even so, it was decent up to the final paragraph, where the author wrecked the whole thing by explicitly comparing events to the game Simon Says, and Nestil saying that he used to rig the game as a child (how does that work when you aren’t Simon?). He’s telling, not showing. Fix that and drop the “N” from the title and it’s a good story. As it is, a high two stars.

High G, by Christopher Anvil

James Heyden, head of the Advanced Research Projects Division at the Continental Multitechnikon Corporation, has just received a memo from his boss telling him to cut back on projects that might interest the government and focus on science kits for kids. Congress isn’t willing to pay for anything revolutionary at the moment. This is part of a fairly regular pendulum swing on his boss’s part between gung-ho government research and piddling commercial stuff. Makes it hard to keep good research engineers working for the company. Just then, one of his engineers comes in with a working anti-gravity device. Throwing caution to the winds, Heyden decides that the only way to convince his boss and a stingy Congress that this thing needs to be built is for him and his engineers to fly to the Moon. Through massive misappropriation of company funds and tons of overtime, the race is on to get to the Moon before the boss gets back from a company trip.


Engineers call something cobbled together like this spaceship a “kluge.” Art by Gaughan

Christopher Anvil tends to be a very uneven writer, sometimes up, sometimes down. This one is right in the middle of his range. Sadly, he tends to be down a little more often than he’s up. For the second month in a row, I find myself wondering why a story is here rather than in Analog. Anvil often writes for Campbell, and this one is right up the editor’s alley: stupid bureaucrats stupidly getting in the way of progress. It might have fared better there, but here it’s too long and filled with pointless minutiae. Do we really need to follow lengthy discussions about the pricing of those kiddie science kits? A high two stars.

The Followers, by Basil Wells

Balt Donner is part of the three-man crew of the exploration ship Avalon. Small, plain and timid in real life, his job calls for him to take mental control of a seven-foot tall robot covered in bronzed pseudoflesh. The ship is currently on the planet Hald, which is inhabited by a people who, though noseless and with elongated ears, are otherwise quite human. Each Halden has a twin, an oddly doglike, eight-limbed creature known as a Follower. The crew of the Avalon is trying to figure out the odd lifecycle of the planet which allows such disparate beings to be born from the same mother.

Their time in space is getting to the crew. Senior crewman Ernest Lytte fights off space madness with ever increasing doses of drugs, while Jeff Carney gets by with alcohol and forbidden carousing on planets with humanoid races. Up to now, Balt has managed to stay sane, but he has begun to fall for a native woman named Alno. She is an outcast, because her Follower died, and has fallen for Balt (in the form of the robot Cass), who appears to her to be an outcast as well. As the other crewmen squabble over procedure, Balt learns that Alno is going to be given a new Follower. Eventually, the biology of Hald is explained, and the ship lifts for the next stop on their long journey back to Earth.

This one is pretty good, though rather dark. Basil Wells has been cranking out stories in a variety of genres for a quarter century, and his prose style reflects that. It’s a little pedestrian, without being pulpy, but the story he tells here is neither. It’s much more in a modern mode, and an author more attuned to that mode – a Brunner or a Zelazny, say – could have turned this into a four, maybe a five star story. As it is, it’s a solid three stars and the best in the issue.

No Friend of Gree, by C. C. MacApp

Steve Duke is trying to figure out why a Gree ship-of-the-line and a small exploration ship are in a backwater binary system. There is a single planet, Terrestrial in nature, but too close to the blue-white companion of the red giant. It is also tidally locked to the star it orbits, always showing one face to its star. There are no signs of technology, so when the Gree ships fire a salvo of missiles to sterilize the planet, Steve wants to know what’s going on. He diverts the missiles and produces enough fake evidence to convince the Gree ships that their mission is accomplished.

Once the Gree slaves leave, Steve lands with two B’lant crewmen to investigate. Searching the Gree camp, they find the hastily dug grave of a Gree slave and are interrupted by the arrival of a vaguely humanoid creature covered in mud and debris. The three of them go wandering across the world, struggling through dense grass that grows higher than their heads and encountering a variety of enormous insectoids. First, one B’lant goes missing and then the other. Eventually, the answers to the puzzles he’s found are revealed to Steve (through no doing of his own). Will he follow the Gree’s lead and sterilize the planet, or has he found a potential weapon for the war against the Gree?


Steve and one of the B’lant see something strange and disgusting. Art by Nodel

When I saw there was a Gree story in this issue, I made a bet with myself that Steve would go behind enemy lines and infiltrate a Gree base by pretending to be walking wounded. Rarely have I been so glad to lose a bet. This is a darn sight better than the previous two stories in this series, though not as good as the first. However, it could probably have been cut by a third. A lot of the difficult slog through the dense vegetation is, well, a difficult slog for the reader. Also, Steve continues to be little more than a cardboard cut-out of a character. A high two stars.

Summing Up

Returning to the beginning, science fiction is, ostensibly, the literature of tomorrow. (Of course, it’s really about today or, at most, later this afternoon, but I digress.) But as I noted above, we’re seeing a lot of revivals, rehashes and regressive pastiches. Fred Pohl, in particular, seems to be on something of a space opera kick of late. Don’t get me wrong. It’s certainly possible to tell a good, modern sort of story within the framework of space opera. Fred Saberhagen certainly pulls it off with his Berserker stories; John Brunner does it quite often (though not always); Roger Zelazny has turned out some beautiful work in the old planetary romance settings.

Most of the time, though, that’s not what Pohl is serving us. We’re getting stuff that could easily have appeared back before the War. Sometimes it seems like a problem story in the good, old Campbellian style is the most modern thing we can hope for. And now we’re going to be saddled with the great-granddaddy of them all for months (and don’t be fooled by that “Part 1 of 3” in the table of contents; a contact at Galaxy Publishing says to expect more like 5). Judging from the comments in the letter col, lots of readers have been eagerly awaiting this Doc Smith novel ever since Fred announced it a year or so ago. Maybe it’s a fit of nostalgia. After all, they say the Golden Age of science fiction is 12. But it’s a sad day when a professional baseball team is more forward-thinking that one of the leading science fiction magazines.


Van Vogt and Schmitz seems like an… odd pairing



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[April 30, 1965] Back-door uprising(May 1965 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

Pirates of the Caribbean

The Dominican Republic, half of the island of Hispaniola in the Caribbean, has never been a beacon of democracy.  The Trujillo dictatorship lasted three long decades, ending only in 1961 after his assassination.  The nation's first democratic elections, in 1963, brought Juan Emilio Bosch Gaviño to the Presidency.  In the same year, a military junta removed him from power, elevating Donald Reid Cabral to the position.

Reid was never popular, and on April 24, military constitutionalists and Dominican Revolutionary Party supporters launched a coup, José Rafael Molina Ureña taking the top post.  He lasted all of two days.  A counter coup restored the Reid government to power, although Reid, himself, had fled the country.

Meanwhile, the American military worked to evacuate some 3,500 U.S. citizens living in the country.  Just this morning, elements of the 82nd Airborne Division landed at San Isidro Air Base, on the outskirts of Santo Domingo.  Their mission is to enforce a ceasefire and guide the country back to democracy.

Thus, our nation is now involved in stabilizing missions on both sides of the globe.  Will this action mark a long term involvement?  Or, in the absence of a Communist menace (Haiti is not North Vietnam!) and with the aid of other O.A.S. nations, will this be a quick exercise to hasten Caribbean democracy?

Only time will tell.

Insurgency in the Old Country

At the very least, we can be certain that the Dominican involvement has no chance of developing into a nuclear confrontation (unlike Vietnam, where Sec. Def. MacNamara did not rule out that possibility).  So it's a conventional affair for now.

Appropriately, we now turn to the most conventional of science fiction magazines, the oft-hidebound Analog.  Like the Dominican Republic, it has been under a single strongman for several decades.  And yet, like that island nation, we occasionally see signs of progress.  Indeed, this latest issue has some refreshing entries, indeed.


by John Schoenherr

Trouble Tide, by James H. Schmitz

On the world of Nandy-Cline, herds of sea cows are abruptly and mysteriously disappearing from the costs of the Girard colonies.  Danrich Parrol, head of the Nandy-Cline branch of Girard Pharmaceuticals, teams up with Dr. Nile Etland, head of Girard's station laboratory, to find the cause of the vanishing food animals.  They suspect foul play from a rival company, Agenes.  The poisoning of a herd of mammalian but native fraya seems somehow connected, too.  The two embark on a forensic adventure that takes them across a thousand miles of coast and under miles of ocean.


by John Schoenherr

There are many features that make Tide stand out.  What a delightful story this is, with an interesting pair of protagonists and a cute scientific solution.  I appreciated the depiction of a planet as a big place, big enough to support many economies, colonies, and criminal activities.  I also particularly liked the appearance of female characters.  Indeed, Dr. Nile Etland is an equal partner in the investigation and is not a romantic foil — simply a competent scientist.

Why is this remarkable?  I had become so inured to the lack of female characters in my science fiction that I'd almost started to challenge my convictions.  Was it really fair of me to judge fiction (at least in part) by whether or not it included female characters?  Isn't modern SF just a reflection of the male-dominant society we live in?  Can we blame authors for writing "what they know?"

Yes, yes, and yes.  The erasure of women in any kind of fiction, particularly one that projects present trends into the future, is inexcusable.  Any portrayal of a world where women play minor roles or none at all isn't just unrealistic, it propagates a kind of ugly wish fulfillment.  That's why, when I get a story like Tide with realistic and positive representation of women (and, indeed, Schmitz has always been good in this regard) it's such a breath of fresh air.  Ditto the British import show, Danger Man, which regularly features competent professional women who are integral to the episodes.

It's what I want to see.  It's what I should be seeing.  That I'm seeing it in Analog of all places gives me hope.

Four stars.

Planetfall, by John Brunner


by Alan Moyler

A young Earth woman eagerly greets a young astronaut man, an ecologist on the crew of a starfaring colony with 2,500 residents that is making a brief stop.  She's set on falling in love with and departing with this exotic fellow, who represents freedom, the exotic, and most of all, purpose in life. 

He, on the other hand, wants nothing more than to jump ship, to escape the stultifying space-kibbutz life, to experience the beauty of humanity's Home.

Each of them poison each other's greener grass, and the encounter is an unhappy one.

If there's such a thing as a "meet cute," then this is a "meet ugly," but it's quite poignant.  Brunner does good work.  Four stars.

Magnetohydrodynamics, by Ben Bova

I really wanted to like this nonfiction article.  After all, it's about a genuinely scientific topic, a revolutionary one.  MHD allows the generation of power without moving physical parts, instead using magnetic fields and plasma.  It's the kind of technology required if we ever want to build fusion power plants.  Plus, Asimov likes the guy.

But boy is this piece dull.  It's not quite as dry as reading a patent, but it's in the same ballpark.  I've heard similar reviews of Bova's work in other magazines, so I can't be the only one who feels this way.

Anyway, two stars.

The Captive Djinn, by Christopher Anvil


by John Schoenherr

Captured human on a planet of cats at a 19th Century technology level outwits his jailers through the use of basic chemistry and the exploitation of the felines' stupidity.

If there were an award for "Story that best exemplifies Chris Anvil's work for John Campbell," this would win.  Two stars.

Beautiful art by Schoenherr, though.  He's definitely going to get a Galactic Star again this year!

The Prophet of Dune (Part 5 of 5), by Frank Herbert

And now we come to the greatest coup of all, the finale of the longest serial I've ever read in a magazine.

Technically, Dune is two serials, and there have been other five-part novels.  But Prophet of Dune is not a sequel to Dune World but the latter "novel's" conclusion.

It's been a long trek. It started with Duke Leto Atreides acquiring the fiefdom that included Arrakis, a desert planet and the only source of the spice melange. This cinnamon-smelling spice is an anti-agathic and also conveys a limited form of precognition.

For the Empire's rich, it livens food and lengthens lives.

For the Navigators' Guild, the spice allows its specialists to navigate the hazardous byways of hyperspace.

For the Bene Gesserit, a religious order of women, it facilitates their plans to manipulate history through the deliberate mixing of blood-lines; their hope is to eventually produce the "Kwisatz Haderach," a sort of messiah, a man with the powers of the Bene Gesserit.

Duke Leto was not long for his reign.  The Harkonnen family from whom Arrakis was transferred immediately schemed to regain it, attacking the planet, killing Leto, and forcing Leto's concubine, the Bene Gesserit Jessica, and their son, Paul, to go into hiding among the native "Fremen."  So ended the first serial.


by John Schoenherr

Baron Harkonnen installed a ruthless nephew on Arrakis with the goal of fomenting a rebellion. His plan would then be to take personal control, relax the tyranny, and turn the Fremen into the greatest army the Empire had ever seen, even more fearsome than the Saudukar, the Imperial guard.

Out in the desert, Paul spends a harsh two years learning the ways of the desert. Moisture is priceless, and all sand-dwellers wear water-recycling "still-suits."  The voracious sandworms are both a constant threat and a valuable commodity, for it is their waste that is refined into spice. 

While among the Fremen, Jessica becomes a Reverend Mother, transforming poisonous sandworm effluence into a substance that allows her to commune with all of her brethren, living and dead.  Because she does so while pregnant, her unborn daughter, Alia, gains the wisdom of a thousand women and is born an adult in a child's body.

Paul is initiated into Fremen culture, eventually assuming the mantle of Muad'Dib, savior of the desert people.  Under his leadership, the Fremen are united.  They will revolt, as Harkonnen expected, but the event will not unfold as the Baron desires.

In this final installment of Dune, Paul launches his attack even while the Padishah Emperor, himself, has visited the planet with five legions of Saudukar, and all of the great families have surrounded Arrakis with warships.  But the hopeless position of Muad'Dib turns out to be unbeatable: for Paul controls the production of spice.  Without it, the nobility is crippled, space is unnavigable.  Thus young Atreides emerges utterly triumphant with virtual control of the Empire, a bethrothal to the Emperor's daughter, and freedom for the people of Arrakis.

I have to give credit to Frank Herbert for creating a universe of ambitious scope.  There's a lot to Dune, and the author clearly has a penchant for world-building.  He takes from a wide variety of sources, particularly Arabic and Persian, creating a setting quite different from what we usually see in science fiction.  The result is not unlike the landscapes generated by Cordwainer Smith, whose upbringing included time in China, or Mack Reynolds, whose writing is informed by extensive travel behind the Iron Curtain and in the Mahgreb.

But.

There's plenty not to like, too.  Herbert is an author of no great technical skill, and his writing ranges from passable to laughably bad.  There wasn't so much of his third-person omniscient and everywhere-at-once in this installment, but it wasn't completely absent, either.  The writing is humorless, grandiose (even pompous), and generally not a pleasure to read. 

Beyond that, the work is highly reactionary.  I was originally pleased to see several female characters in the story.  Lady Jessica often is the viewpoint, though given Herbert's love of switching perspective every third line, that's not quite so noteworthy.  But in the end, even the most prominent women are limited to their medieval roles, that of wife and bearer of greatness.  Dune is a man's world. 

Then there are the fedayken, the people of the desert clearly modeled on the Arabs.  And who should lead them to freedom?  Not a local son, no; only T. E. Lawrence Jesus Atreides can save them. 

It's an unsettling subtext in our post-colonial times: a galactic empire, decadent and crumbling, requires an infusion of European boldness to restore it to vigor.  Is it any surprise that this novel came out in Analog?

So, on the one hand, I give this installment four stars.  It kept me interested, and I appreciated the intricacy of the conclusion.  Looking over my tally for the other seven parts of this sprawling opus, that ends us at exactly three stars. 

I think that's fair.  Some will praise the book for its vision and be undaunted by the quality of the prose or the offensiveness of its underpinnings.  Those folks will probably nominate it for another Hugo next year.  Others will give up in boredom around page 35.  I read the whole thing because I had to.  I didn't hate it; I even respect it to a degree.  But I see its many many flaws.

Let the adulatory/damning letters begin!

Running the Numbers

Once again, Analog finishes at the top of the heap; at 3.3 stars, it ties with Science-Fantasy.  It's been a good month for fiction overall, with New Worlds and Amazing scoring 3.2. 

Fantastic gets a solid 3 stars, and IF just misses the mark at 2.8. 
Fantasy and Science Fiction disappoints with 2.7, though its Zenna Henderson story may be the best of the month.

While women may be making a comeback as fictional characters, as writers, they're still conspicuously absent.  Only 2 of the 38 fiction pieces were written by women.

Perhaps it's time for a coup.  Summon the 101st Airborne!



Our last three Journey shows were a gas!  You can watch the kinescope reruns here).  You don't want to miss the next episode, May 9 at 1PM PDT, a special Arts and Entertainment edition featuring Arel Lucas, Cora Buhlert, Erica Frank…and Dr. Who producer, Verity Lambert! Register today and we'll make sure you don't forget.




[April 28, 1965] Mermaids, Persian Gods and Time Travel New Worlds and Science Fantasy, April/May 1965

by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

We seem to be heading into warmer weather here in England. Say it quietly, but Spring might actually be here.

[Flowers in Stratford upon Avon]

First up: Science Fantasy.


[Art by Keith Roberts – who else?]

This month’s ‘arty’ cover is by the prolific Keith Roberts, who seems to be everywhere at the moment. His colour artwork was last seen on the cover of the January issue, this one to my mind is just as odd. Are British magazine covers meant to look like they are painted by a child? I despair, especially when I see the covers for the US magazines, which by comparison are so much more than what we get here. The best that can be said here though is that they reflect the changes in the magazines at the moment. They are determined to be different.

The Editorial this month mentions the up-coming British Worldcon later this year – now less than four months away! – and how to apply to attend. It also enquires about letters on the idea of genre and also mentions that there will be a letters page – soon! However, before readers get their hopes up that Science Fantasy will take on other New Worlds staples like the Ratings list – it’s not going to happen.

To the stories themselves.

The Impossible Smile (part 1), by Jael Cracken

Last month our first story was one by the up-coming Worldcon Guest of Honour, Brian Aldiss. This month – its actually the same, though Brian is writing under a pseudonym. (Why do authors do that?)

The Impossible Smile begins with an assassination. Jim Bull, leader of the British Republics is killed in his bathroom. The assassin escapes to a hall near Norwich, the nation’s capital, where Conrad Wyvern lives. It appears that the dictatorship are hunting for telepaths. Although Wyvern is working for the Republics in training new recruits, he is also a man with a secret, and a determination to revenge the apparent death of his sister.

The Impossible Smile is another dystopian future. It reminded me of the future depicted by Hilary Bailey in Moorcock’s New Worlds in the July/August 1964 issue. This covers similar ground but being Aldiss-by-another-name, is in my opinion, better written.

It is quite understated in the way it describes some of the horrors this future holds. Troops shoot citizens with little provocation and this seems to be accepted.

Suspects are taken for interrogation at the base on the Moon and, in a nod I rather suspect is to Orwell, all there work to try and support the supercomputer rather amusingly named ‘Big Bert’. (The American computer by comparison is amusingly named ‘Fall Guy’.)

Weirdly, The Impossible Smile comes across as a mixture of George Orwell’s 1984 and Ian Fleming’s James Bond, with a touch of A E van Vogt’s Slan, a combination I am sure is deliberate.  The general tone is a little uneven however, lurching from torture to comedy sometimes in the same paragraph.

Nevertheless, there’s a lot I liked about this one and a great cliff-hanger ending. Another strong start to an issue, and I look forward to the last part next month. 4 out of 5.

The Middle Ground, by Keith Roberts

Another issue, another Anita story by Keith Roberts.  This time, our teen-witch meets a lonely ghost, recently killed in a road accident. She discovers why the ghost is still haunting around The Dog and Duck and after a bizarre matchmaking ritual with the local witch Controller, manages to get the spirit to leave to a better place. A relatively minor tale, which has the blessed relief of there being a lack of Granny Thompson in this story, although she does appear briefly. Little to add here other than what has been said before. Fans will like it, others will remain unmoved. 3 out of 5.

Housel, by Alan Burns

A weird one. A housel appears to be a mental magnifier that transforms where you live into where you’d want to live, creating a virtual reality environment. This one sets things up nicely but when it attempts to add aliens and interplanetary warfare it becomes too silly and far-fetched for me. There’s an interesting idea here but when it is pushed to its extremes just wouldn’t work. 2 out of 5.

Vashti, by Thomas Burnett-Swann

Perhaps this month’s most anticipated story (at least, by me). Having taken on Greek mythology in the Blue Monkeys serial, which has been one of the highlights of recent Science Fantasy issues for me, this time around Thomas takes on Persian mythology in this novelette.

It is the story of the dwarf Ianiskos, who has moved from Greece to Persia with King Xerxes. Vashti is the King’s wife, who up to now has been barren, despite the King wanting children. Under the threat of death, Vashti leaves the King and returns to her land of Petra, followed by Ianiskos.

The land of Persia is an area rich in mythology to choose from and this is a great story, written in Burnett-Swann’s lyrical fashion. The way that Thomas rewrites these stories for contemporary audiences is still magical. 4 out of 5.

Timmy and the Angel, by Philip Wordley

Another story from Philip, last seen in the March 1965 issue. It is a minor tale to finish the issue on. A story of how an alien ambassador, who has taken the form of an angel, manages to get seven-year-old Timmy to use his latent telekinetic powers to make the Human Race take pause before launching themselves into Space. It’s a nice enough first contact story which trades on the innocence of children to do something for the greater good. Well-meaning and generally positive, it’s about as anti-war as you can get. Think of it as an alternative to Clarke’s Childhoods End, with aliens guiding humans towards mutual benefits for all. But in the end, perhaps not one that’ll be remembered for too long. 3 out of 5.

Summing up Science Fantasy

Another issue that I liked a lot. The Cracken/Aldiss serial is good, the Anita story acceptable, but the novelette by Thomas Burnett Swann is the best story of the issue by far. My only quibble with it is that it is very similar in style to the serial of a few months ago.

The Second Issue At Hand

This month’s New Worlds was heralded as being special and I was hoping for a bit of a treat.


[Art by Robert J. Tilley ]

The Robert J. Tilley cover though is a bit of a disappointment and looks rather cheap, although unusually the inside front cover shows us more than normal:

And what handsome chaps they all look! This might be promising, after all.

Oh, but hang on – the editorial is a guest one by none other than E J (John) Carnell, the recently deposed editor of New Worlds.

Now, I must admit that Mike Moorcock and the new staff of the magazines have always been respectful to the efforts made by John and valued his contribution to the genre, even when minor mortals such as myself have been less positive. As expected, this is a self-satisfying, rallying call acclaiming the importance of British SF, not just to us regular readers but also to the world.  It is a bold statement, which is uncharacteristic of us normally self-restrained Brits. Perhaps that’s why I’m uncomfortable about it.

Time Trap, by Charles L. Harness


[Art by James Cawthorn]

The novella begins in a court. Jon Troy and his telepath wife Ann are accused of murdering leader Provinarch Blogshak. The wife has been convicted already and put under some sort of drugged suspended animation, but Jon seems strangely unperturbed by his death sentence.  He manages to avoid incarceration on a legal technicality, expertly manoeuvred by his advocate Mr. Poole. On leaving court, Poole shows Jon that he as a special power that makes him extremely useful. Using his wife as a hostage, Jon is forced to help the not-really-dead Blogshak save the life of an alien renegade known as the Outcast. Jon is persuaded not to save it but to kill it. The reason for it is revealed by the end of the story.

This is one of those stories that seems to fit with many of the old clichés of science fiction. We have alien monsters, telepathic superpowers and big cosmic ideas that wouldn’t be out of place in a Golden Age space opera story. This is to such an extent that I thought it was meant to be an homage to those stories at first. However, what the editor Mike Moorcock doesn’t tell us is that this is a reprint of a story first published in 1948. As it makes some of the current writers look shabby, Harness deserves credit for writing an energetic tale – a debut story, as well – with big, ambitious aims, if a little lacking on the execution of the ideas. In fact, the story seems unbalanced. The court scenes at the beginning are good, but too long, with the result that the end is rushed and rather too convenient. There are some interesting and unusual ideas here, but in the end I was disappointed.  3 out of 5.

The Small Betraying Detail, by Brian Aldiss

And after the story in Science Fantasy, another story by Brian this month. However, this one is quite different. It tells of Arthur who is being taken to a TB sanitorium on the Norfolk coast. Whilst on the way he seems to see things around him, including his carers, change and then return back to ‘normal’. Is it that Arthur is now seeing reality or is it evidence of a psychotic break? Aldiss doesn’t make it clear, but the increasing discord between what is ‘real’ and what Arthur sees as an alternative relentlessly increases the disquieting nature of the story. Arthur’s perspective at the end brings things to an almost Lovecraft-ian conclusion. It is an unsettling piece and shows us that Aldiss can write dark stories as well as his usual humorous ones.  3 out of 5.

Nobody Axed You, by John Brunner

John Brunner, another stalwart of these pages over the last decade or so, gives us a novelette with a frankly awful pun-ish title. This one begins with what seems to be a decapitation with an axe, although in reality it is an actor watching his ‘performance’. Gene Gardner appears to kill people for entertainment on television in his weekly programme The Gene Gardner Show-to-Kill-Time. In his efforts to maintain his viewer ratings, measured by the number of deaths occurring by that method the week after the transmission, the actor is driven to gaining better and better DOA ratings.

The world setting is interesting in that the show's purpose seems to be to reduce the population by inspiring viewers to copy the programme. There is an overpopulation issue. A lack of reproduction is seen as a virtue, echoed in both nursery rhymes sung to children and the F-girls, who wear makeup that highlights this letter. (The F stands for 'Frigidity', which is seen as a social aspiration rather than an insult.)

I get the impression that Nobody Axed You is one of those stories that is intended to either amuse or shock – or possibly both! – but did neither for me. Instead it takes a good idea – how far will people go for future entertainment? – and ramps it up to such an absurd degree that it just becomes rather silly in the end. Some may see this as some form of future satire, but it lost that ever-so-important sense of believability fairly early on for me. It is a story with something to say, but seems to do it crudely, in my opinion.

Nevertheless, Nobody Axed You is about 3 out of 5 in the end.

Prisoner of the Coral Deep, by J G Ballard

Last time we had something new from J G it was slightly disappointing – an extract from a clearly bigger story that was to be published later as a novel. This one is different. It starts rather matter-of-fact-ly, with the lead character finding a seashell in a coastal cave where he is sheltering from a storm. He meets a mysterious and alluring woman (possibly a mermaid?) there, who encourages him to listen to the shell, when he appears to find himself somewhere else at another time. The siren has lured him into a strange future – or is it the past? This story is Ballard playing with time again. The reasons for this happening are unclear, yet it is quite vivid in its descriptions of what the man hears. It’s OK, but is it outstanding Ballard? Not really. It is a one-point idea in a short story. Remember to never talk to strange women at the seaside! 3 out of 5.

Alfred's Ark, by Jack Vance

The latest American import to this British magazine.  Is this an attempt to mollify the old guard? Possibly – after all, the recent reprint by Arthur C Clarke did very well in the readers ratings, as I will show later.

Alfred’s Ark is a short story of a small-town American farmer who decides to build an ark against an impending flood, and the effects on his town and his neighbours. As to be expected, it is well-written, very easily read, and pleasantly amusing, but somewhat out of step with the style of the new incarnation of New Worlds. And rather short. 3 out of 5.

The Life Buyer (part 2 of 3), by E.C. Tubb

So, here’s the second part of this three-part serial from a long-time SF writer.

At the end of last issue we were left with a cliff-hanger ending and a number of unresolved issues. Billionaire Marcus King seems to be the target of someone who is trying to kill him. Our hero-detectives Markham and Delmonte are still trying to find out why, but as we discovered last issue, it may be something to do with King’s major product, the krown, which is due to be rolled out into a new version. The krown, when fitted to your head can adapt mental and physical reactions and can allow others to experience your thoughts. It may even be a power-play on the part of King himself.

Tubb is still building this up to an ending and the pages turned easily. I still like this story, although as this is the second of three parts, there’s a lot of running about and checking up of suspects without much really happening. Still interested to see how it ends next month though. 4 out of 5.

Articles and Books

There are no Articles or Letters Pages this month, as the Editor admits that they’ve been left out to give more room to the fiction this month. Nevertheless, there is one small paperback review by James Colvin (aka Mike Moorcock), which is for a non-fiction collection of articles named Fads and Fallacies (in the Name of Science) by Martin Gardner. It seems well liked and thoroughly recommended.

Also welcome, although split across two pages, is a potted summary of the contributors in this issue.

Ratings this month for issue 148 (that’s the March 1965 issue). As I mentioned earlier, the reprint of Arthur C Clarke’s Sunjammer story took the top spot. As I said back then, it’s a good story, but it’s a reprint.  Whilst I’m pleased it did well – I love me a good Clarke story – it is very out of place in this new magazine.

Summing up New Worlds

Perhaps not unexpectedly, the 150th issue is good, but not entirely the treat I was hoping for. Some of the story choices are a little unusual – a 1940’s reprint, a lesser offering from one of our brightest stars at the moment, an unusual one from one of our other bright stars, a minor story from a Hugo Award winner –  but it’s a readable issue on the whole.

It is a little ironic that we have John Carnell writing a self-congratulatory Editorial for a magazine that has moved on so far from what he was selling about a year ago. This issue is not the absolute best New Worlds can do, but it does give a reader an idea of the scope and range of what is out there are the moment. It is still streets ahead of those last Carnell issues.

Summing up overall

Both magazines continue their runs of success for me. The Burnett- Swann novella is perhaps my favourite story of all, but what else could be the winning issue this month but the 150th issue of New Worlds? Even with an eclectic mix and the return of John Carnell…

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



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