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Magazine

[January 31, 1965] Janus, Facing Both Ways (February 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Facing the Future, Honoring the Past

January (likely) takes its name from Janus, the Roman god of new beginnings, and there have been few Januaries so worthy of this legacy than the latest one.

On January 20, Lyndon Baines Johnson took the oath of office of the President of the United States.  He had done so once before, on that tragic afternoon in November 1963.  This time, LBJ was sworn in on his own merit, having won the last general election in one of the biggest trouncings in history.  He has already outlined a bold agenda, expanding his Great Society with proposals to expand medicare and social security, combat poverty and joblessness, and further equalize the rights of all Americans.  Along with the Democratic supermajority in Congress, we are going to see legislative movement the likes of which have not been seen in more than twenty years.

Just four days later, Sir Winston Churchill, the United Kingdom's leader through most of World War 2, was felled by a brain hemorrhage at the age of 90.  His state funeral on the 29th was appropriately tremendous, and flags were lowered to half-mast throughout the world.  The Left seem to be on the move in Britain, too, with the Liberals winning their first victory in over a decade.  Have we arrived at an unfettered age of progress?

In the eddies of time

Not within the pages of John W. Campbell's Analog, which plugs along this month with the same combination of hard science fiction and workmanlike writing.  Moreover, Frank Herbert's Prophet of Dune neither begins nor concludes; it merely plods on.  Well, to be fair, the cover date is February 1965…


by Walter Hortens

Program for Lunar Landings by Joe Poyer

We are now four years on since President Kennedy's momentous declaration, to send Americans to the Moon and back before decade's end.  Joe Poyer's article outlines the phases of lunar exploration that will succeed Project Apollo's first missions.

Fascinating topic.  Rather dull execution.  Three stars.

The Mailman Cometh, by Rick Raphael


by Walter Hortens

The fellow who gave us depictions of government employed sewer rats and tales of high speed highway patrol is back with a story of far future mail delivery.  Centuries from now, automated mail drones will transport packages across the stars.  But it's up to the sweaty, stinky folk in orbiting stations to sort the stuff onto its final destination.

I don't know that I buy the setup, and this is more of "a day in the life" than something with an actual plot.  That said, Raphael always writes pleasantly, and he's not shy about writing good women characters.

Three stars.

Photojournalist, by Mack Reynolds


by Robert Swanson

It's a terrible thing to be a cameraman and miss the big scoop.  But how much worse must it be to be at all the right places at all the right times and never have your pictures published?

No one in modern day has ever seen Jerry Scott's shots, and he's been spotted everywhere, from Mussolini's hanging to the latest riots.  Is he unlucky?  Or does he have an entirely different audience?

Pretty good story, though with a page more in the middle than is necessary.  Plus, it gives Reynolds a chance to use some of his lingo from his Joe Mauser stories (which will instantly tip you off as to what's going on).

Three stars.

The Pork Chop Tree, by James H. Schmitz


by Hector Castellon

What ill could possibly be spoken of the trees of Maccadon?  All parts of them are edible.  They obligingly create hollows in themselves as shelters for animals and people alike.  Not one offensive characteristic has been cataloged.

Is there such a concept as too much of a good thing?

This story has a lot in common with Norman Spinrad's recent Child of Mind, though without the offensive bits.  And also the particularly interesting ones.

Three stars.

Coincidence Day, by John Brunner


by Leo Summers

In the NASEEZ (North American South Eastern Extraterrestrial Zoo), the most exciting time to visit is Coincidence Day, when all of the biorhythms of the assembled creatures line up, and they can all be viewed active at once.  The most sought-out resident is a tripodal alien dubbed Chuckaluck, a charming, easy-going soul. 

But is he the attraction, or the observer?

A whimsical, multilayered piece.  It almost feels like a story Sheckley would write were he British.

Four stars.

The Prophet of Dune (Part 2 of 5), by Frank Herbert


by John Schoenherr

Finally, a short installment of Part 2 of Book 2 of the Dune franchise.  Young Paul Atreides and his mother, Lady Jessica, have made it across the deadly desert of Arrakis to what counts for local civilization.  But do the still-suited, spice-addicted Fremen offer succor or peril?

This was actually one of the better spans of the story, though Frank Herbert still employs third person omniscient italic as his perspective.  Three stars.

What a happy surprise to find Analog near the top of the magazine pack this month, clocking in at 3.2 stars.  In fact, it was a rather stellar month in general, Galaxy getting an impressive 3.5 stars, BOTH Fantastic and Amazing earning 3.3 stars, Fantasy and Science Fiction returning to form with 3.2 stars, and the British New Worlds achieving 3.1 while Science Fantasy scored 3.

Only IF and Worlds of Tomorrow came over par, at 2.7 and 2.5 stars, respectively (though the latter did have the excellent Niven novella, Planet/World of Ptavvs).

On the other hand, out of a whopping 55 pieces of fiction, women only wrote four of them.  The ratio is getting worse, folks.

Meanwhile, speaking of endings, it appears Analog will be a slick for just one more month before returning to the rack with all the other digest sizes.  Apparently, there just wasn't enough advertising to sustain the bedsheet format.  I guess the Venn diagram of science fiction readers and cognac drinkers didn't intersect much…

I honestly won't miss the big magazine.  It fit awkwardly on my shelf.  What do y'all think?




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Science / Space Race

[January 28, 1965] Castor, Pollux, and TIROS (Gemini 2 and TIROS 9)

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January's been exciting, space-wise.  Read on about two of the month's biggest developments!


by Gideon Marcus

Up and Down

Almost two years ago, Gordo Cooper orbited the Earth for a full day in his spacecraft called Faith 7.  This marked the end of the Project Mercury, America's first manned space program.  Work was already apace on Project Apollo, a three-seat spaceship scheduled to land on and return from the Moon before 1970.  However, with the Soviets launching spectacular Vostok flights with discouraging regularity, President Kennedy was not about to let several years go by while the Communists continued to rack up a lead in the Space Race.

Plus, it's important to walk before running.  Mercury was barely a crawl — we provided a minimum capsule for a single human to spend no more than a day in space.  The craft was a technological dead end (though there is some talk of turning the surplus four capsules into space telescopes). 

Meanwhile, the Apollo system consists of four components: the Command Module where the astronauts sit, the Service Module with engines and life support, the Lunar Module that will land on the Moon (itself comprising two parts!) and the trans-stage that will boost the whole stack from the Earth.  To successfully get this unwieldy affair safely across half a million miles of space will require the ability to change orbits, rendezvous, dock, and other complicated maneuvers.

Some kind of bridge is necessary.  It now exists, and it's called Gemini.

The two-seat Gemini is a real spacecraft, literally able to fly rings around a Mercury…or a Vostok for that matter.  In the ten or so planned flights, its pilots will not only learn the skills necessary for Apollo missions (and thus become the prime candidates when those missions happen), but they will also be in space far longer than anyone has been before.  Missions of up to two weeks are possible with Gemini!

As with Mercury, uncrewed test missions are necessary to make sure Gemini is up for human use.  Unlike Mercury, there were only two such Gemini missions planned — a dividend of Project Mercury (and there may have been a chimponaut strike, too).

Mission One was an orbital test, mostly to make sure the new Titan II missile worked properly as a spaceship booster.  Launched almost a year ago, on April 8, 1964, the mission went exactly as planned: Gemini 1's instrument pallets went silent after three hours of battery-powered transmission, the craft burned up a few days later upon reentry, and the holes drilled into the heat shield that adorned its hind end ensured its fiery doom.

Of course, it's all very nice that Gemini goes up, but could it come down?  That was the goal of the Gemini 2 mission.  Like Alan Shepard's flight into space back in May 1961, Gemini 2 was a suborbital jaunt planned to last all of 19 minutes. 

At four minutes after 9 AM, Eastern Time, the Gemini-Titan booster staged at Cape Kennedy's Launch Complex 19 flared to life.  Twin Aerojet engines blasted 215,000 pounds of thrust, hurling the rocket into the air at ever increasing speed as the red launch tower swung down from vertical to horizontal.  152 seconds after lift-off, the engines went silent, and the second stage cast off the first with an explosive disdain.  Just three minutes after that, stage two also went silent, and the Gemini capsule was cast off to fly freely. 

Gemini 2 wasted no time in turning itself around, and just seven minutes after launch, at T +415 seconds, the spacecraft fired its retrorockets, sending the ship on a collision course with the Earth.  It was a steep landing, designed to burden the heat shield with a load higher than what any human crew might experience.  But the little ship that Douglas built was up to the task, crashing through the layers of the atmosphere without incident, unfurling its parachutes and landing in the Atlantic Ocean almost three thousand miles downrange.

It had not quite been a perfect flight: a fuel cell that would have been the spacecraft's electricity supply during a long flight failed before lift-off, and the ship's cooling system ran hot.  But it was good enough for government work.  Astronauts Gus Grissom and John Young, the former already a space veteran, are scheduled to go up on Gemini 3 come spring.  With luck, we could see as many as three more launches before year's end.

I in the Sky

Since 1960, TIROS TV satellites have been keeping tabs on Earth's weather.  Zooming around the Earth every couple of hours, they have snapped shots of incipient hurricanes, raging storms, and swathes of clear skies in a way that was pure science fiction just half a decade before.

Scheduled to be superseded by the advanced NIMBUS satellites, NASA decided that there's no reason to stop using what works!  So TIROS just got upgraded, and the first of a new line was launched on January 22, 1965.

The ninth in the series, also called "TIROS I", is special for a number of reasons.  Firstly, it is the first TIROS to be launched into a polar orbit.  Instead of cruising East to West like most satellites, it circles North to South, with the Earth rotating underneath it.  This allows TIROS to photograph every part of the planet once a day.

Moreover, the TIROS I is of a new "cartwheel" design, spinning in space for stabilization with its axis perpendicular to Earth.  From the ground, it appears to roll around in the sky, its twin TV cameras mounted on the spinning rim to snap a shot once every three seconds.

Everyone complains about the weather.  Thanks to the new TIROS, now we can do more about it (or at least react with warning!) than ever before.  Sure, Gemini and Apollo will grab the headlines over the next few years, but it's the hard-working robotic satellites that are really ushering in the future.

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Magazine

[January 26, 1965] Down the Rabbit Hole…Again (February 1965 IF)

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by Gideon Marcus

TV Triplets

Back when the Young Traveler and I were watching The Twilight Zone, we accidentally picked the wrong time to turn on the set and ended up getting introduced to Mr. Ed, Supercar, and The Andy Griffith Show, in that order.  It made for an amusing night, and we learned a lot about the prime-time schedule for that season.

Recently, we once again fell down the rabbit hole, though not quite by accident. 

It all started with an amazing new import form England.  You may have seen the American rebroadcast of Danger Man back in the summer of '61.  It was a smart spy show starring NATO agent, John Drake, played by Patrick McGoohan.  Well, he's back, and this time his episodes are a full hour rather than just half.  It's gripping stuff, albeit a bit heavier and more cynical than the first run.  Realistic, idealistic, and respectful of women, it's a delightful contrast to the buffoonish Bond franchise.

So gripping was the show that we ended up somehow unable to change the channel when Password came on.  This game show is sort of a verbal version of Charades where a contestant tries to get their partner to say a word using single-word clues.  Play goes back and forth until one team gets it right.

It's kind of a dumb show for the viewer because we already know the answer.  On the other hand, the contestants always include celebrities, and it's fun to watch them struggle through the rounds.


Gene Kelly looked like he wanted to kill his partner.  The whole time!


Juliet Prowse, on the other hand, was adorable and funny.

After half an hour of that, we had summoned enough energy to reach toward the television remote…until we heard the bugle strains heralding the arrival of Rocky and Bullwinkle (and friends).  It had been my understanding that the show had completed its five year run, but it has apparently gone into reruns without missing a beat.  Since we had missed the first couple of years, well, we couldn't turn off the television now!

The only thing that saved us was the subsequent airing of Bonanza, a show I am only too happy to turn off.  Who knows how long we'd have cruised The Vast Wasteland otherwise.  Of course, now we're stuck watching all three shows every week (homework permitting).

Print Analog

Science fiction magazines are kind of like blocks of TV shows.  They happen regularly, their quality is somewhat reliable, but their content varies with each new issue.  This month's Worlds of IF Science Fiction defined the phrase "much of a muchness".  Each (for the most part) was acceptable, even enjoyable, but either they were flawed jewels, or they simply never went beyond workmanlike.  Read on, and you'll see what I mean:


This rather goofy cover courtesy of McKenna, illustrating Small One

The Replicators, by A. E. van Vogt

Steve Maitlin is an ornery SOB, a Marine veteran of Korea who knows the world is all SNAFU, especially the moronic generals who run the show.  Not only does this attitude make life miserable for those around him, but it also brings the Earth to the brink of interstellar war.  It turns out that the alien BEM Maitlin shoots one day on the road to work is just one of an infinite number of bodies for an IT, and the replacement body ends up with Maitlin's cussedness as part of its basic personality.

Said IT also has the ability to replicate any weapon the humans throw against it, but magnified.  Shoot at it?  It builds a big-size rifle.  Bomb it?  It comes back with an extra-jumbo jet and a bigger nuke.  In the end, Maitlin is the only one who can stop the thing, which makes karmic sense.  But can the vet change his nature in time to meet minds with the alien?


by Gray Morrow

This story doesn't make a lot of sense, but Van Vogt is good at keeping you engaged with pulpish momentum.  Three stars.

Reporter at Large, by Ron Goulart

In a future where mob bosses have replaced politicians (or perhaps the politicians have just more nakedly advertised their criminal nature!) power is entrenched and hereditary.  Only an honest journalist can bring about a revolution, but when any person has his price, only an android editor's got the scruples to speak truth to power.

Ron Goulart writes good, funny stories.  Unfortunately, while I see that he tried, he failed at accomplishing either this time out.  Two stars, and the worst piece of the mag.

Small One, by E. Clayton McCarty

A young alien has exiled himself as part of its first stage of five on the journey toward maturity.  Its isolation is disturbed when a tiny bipedal creature lands in a spaceship nearby and finds itself trapped in a cave.  The child-being establishes telepathic contact with the intruder (obviously a human) and an eventual rapport is established.  But everything falls apart when the Terran's rapacious teammates land and fall into conflict with the alien's infinitely more powerful family…


by Jack Gaughan

I am a sucker for first contact stories, especially when told from the alien viewpoint.  This one is good, but it suffers from a certain lack of subtlety, a kind of hamfisted presentation of the kind I normally see from new writers.  That makes sense; this is his (her?) first story.

Three stars, and my favorite piece of the magazine.

Blind Alley, by Basil Wells

A year after settling the planet of Croft, the human colonists and their livestock all become afflicted with blindness.  Against the odds, they survive, shaping their lives around the change.  But can their society take the shock when a new arrival, generations later, brings back the promise of sight?

Blind Alley treads much of the same ground as Daniel Galouye's excellent Dark Universe from a few years back.  The question is worth asking: when is a "disability" simply a different way to be able?  That said, Wells is not as skilled as Galouye, and the story merits three stars as a result.

Gree's Commandos, by C. C. MacApp


by Nodel

On a thick-atmosphered planet, Colonel Steve Duke assists a race of Stone Age flying elephants against the interstellar aggressors, the Gree, and their mercentary cohorts.  It's a straight adventure piece with virtually no development, either of the characters or the larger setting.  Somewhat similar to Keith Laumer's latest novel (The Hounds of Hell, also appearing in IF), it doesn't do anything to make you care.  Sufficiently developed, it could have been good.

Two stars.

Zombie, by J. L. Frye

Here is the second story by a brand new author…and it shows.  In the future, it becomes possible to transplant a personality in the short term to a physically perfect body.  Said transfers are used almost exclusively for espionage and sabotage — it's not much fun living in a shell of a form that can't really feel or enjoy anything other than the satisfaction of a job well done.  Indeed, the only people willing to endure the hell of personality transfer (back and forth) are the profoundly crippled.

This story of a particularly hairy mission has its moments of poignance, but again, Frye is not quite up to the challenge of a difficult topic.  Plus, he needs more adjectives in his quiver; I count seven times he used "beautiful" to describe the sole female character.  Even Homer varied between calling Athena "grey-eyed" and "owl-eyed".

Three stars.

Starchild (Part 2 of 3), by Frederik Pohl and Jack Williamson

Last up is the second installment of three (that number again!) in this serialized sequel to The Reefs of Space.  It's a short one, barely long enough to cover the harsh interrogation of Bowsie Gann.  Gann was the loyal spy servant of The Plan, returned to Earth at the same time the star-reef-dwelling Starchild began to turn off the local suns to scare Earth's machine-run government.


by Nodel

It's a most unpleasant set of pages, with lots of torture and cruelty (something Fred Pohl does effectively; viz. A Plague of Pythons).  That said, Pohl and Williamson can write, and I am looking forward to seeing how it all wraps up.

Three stars.

Stay Tuned

Like much of the Idiot Box's offerings, IF continues to deliver stuff that's just good enough to keep my subscription current.  I'd like editor Fred Pohl to tip the magazine in one direction or another so I can either stop buying it or enjoy it more…

Until then, I guess my knob stays tuned to this channel!

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Magazine, Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[January 24, 1965] A New Beginning… New Worlds and Science Fantasy Magazine, January/February 1965

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

As I mentioned last month, I now am in the fortunate position of getting two British magazines a month. Both New Worlds and Science Fantasy have returned to monthly issues after being published in alternate months throughout most of 1964.

This doesn’t leave much time for other things this month. However, I can’t resist one update. Since our last article I have had to bite the bullet due to familial pressure and have been dragged along to the cinema to see the 170 minute epic that is My Fair Lady. Given my reluctance about musicals, I must admit, albeit quietly, that it wasn’t bad. Whilst I could make derogatory comments about Rex Harrison’s ‘singing’, Audrey Hepburn was quite charming. It’ll never make me want to see more musicals by choice, but it was tolerable.

And I must admit that it did relieve the sense of gloom that seems to have descended on the country following the sad news of Sir Winston Churchill's death.  Moving on..

The First Issue At Hand

So: which magazine arrived first? The winner was the January/February 1965 issue of Science Fantasy.


The Editor is particularly pleased to point out that Keith Roberts, who seems to be our current favourite, will return with another Anita story next month (although the back cover tells us that it will be this month!)


Back Cover. Notice anything wrong?

Multi-talented Mr. Roberts is also who we blame for this month’s rather obtuse cover art for the story Present From the Past.

To the stories themselves.

Present From the Past, by Douglas Davis

This is, to quote the editor from the Editorial, “a new twist on the time safari”. Doctor Messenger, palaeontologist, is transported by the Chronotransporter Research Department in a one-man machine to the Triassic to do research. Unsurprisingly, having been warned to be careful, things go wrong. This is a good old-fashioned adventure tale of Man against the dinosaurs. The descriptions of the landscape and the dinosaurs are vivid and suggest that this would make the start of a good movie, although despite the editor’s protestations, really is nothing that different from the sort of pulp story published in the 1930’s. It ends weakly and feels like there should be more, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing but therefore doesn’t feel like a story with a point. 3 out of 5.

The Empathy Machine, by Langdon Jones

Not content with being the Assistant Editor over at New Worlds, here we have the latest story from Langdon Jones, the writer. As we might expect, it is odd story, one that seems to be an internalised fever dream by Henry Ronson, a man who has the urge to kill his frigid wife whilst on holiday on Mars. The story takes an odd turn when Ronson damages the wall screen in frustration at the incessant advertising that he is bombarded by and is then beaten up by the police who arrive to investigate. The next day Ronson and his wife discover a strange Martian building, which on entrance shows Henry life from the perspective of his wife. And guess what – she wants to kill him as well! Now having empathy for each other they kiss and make up (I presume).

Really though, this is a salutary tale on the need for partners to communicate with each other – as well as point out the maddening impact of constant advertising! It just reads strangely to me, an uneven attempt to combine the mysticism of Ray Bradbury with the angst of J G Ballard, which doesn’t work, although the effort is appreciated. 3 out of 5.

Harvest, by Johnny Byrne

And here’s the return of the writer of appropriately weird stories, Johnny Byrne, last seen in the September – October 1964 issue. Harvest has a similarly odd, disjointed tone to the Langdon Jones story, telling of characters who seem to be living in a post-apocalyptic place. It is odder than Langdon Jones’s story, and whilst I liked the lyrical nature of the prose, not really for me. 2 out of 5.

Petros, by Philip Wordley

A new writer to me. The title evokes a sense that it is something akin to Burnett-Swann’s re-imagining of Grecian myths, but instead it is  another story that shows us that post-Armageddon life is bad. This time the Plenipotentiary of the Kingdom of Christ on Earth appears to be living in (another) post-apocalyptic world surrounded by what appear to be Mafia gangsters transported to Britain. This was easier to understand than Johnny Byrne’s story, but as yet another tale about the enduring importance of religion in difficult circumstances (a common theme in the magazines in the last few months!) it left me strangely unmoved. 3 out of 5.

Flight of Fancy, by Keith Roberts

Another story from Science Fantasy’s current flavour of the month – he appears later in the issue as well. It helps that I generally like Keith’s writing, although this very short story is underwhelming. Flight of Fancy is a minor tale that tries to use humour to tell us how science could become unimportant in a future where science has allowed civilisation to be bombed back to a more primitive level. 3 out of 5.

Only the Best, by Patricia Hocknell
A new writer. This is a short story that is a variant of the adage “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” A marvellous new invention that appears from who-knows-where has negative consequences. Even if I accepted the point that “Washing clothes can be fun”, there were issues with the story for me. I think that it’s meant to be funny but comes across as both silly and creepy. It’s OK, but is a one-point tale. 2 out of 5.

The Island, by Roger Jones

Another new writer. A fairly unpleasant tale of how three characters named Erg, Rastrick and Minus spend their time surviving on some island of the future. It’s all rather grim and depressing, not helped by some rather dreadful people. There’s a weak attempt to develop a sense of mystery – what did Erg see Rastrick doing in the copse on the island? – but the solution is pretty unremarkable. With such misery, the ending is a bit of a relief, but I did wonder what was the point at the end. A story intended to score on its shock value, I believe, but just comes across as unremittingly bleak. 2 out of 5.

The Typewriter, by Alistair Bevan

Here’s the second story in this issue by Keith Roberts this issue, albeit written under the name of one of his pseudonyms. After all that unrelenting misery of The Island, here’s a lighter tale, telling us of what happens to Henry Albert Tailor, the creator of ‘Flush Hardman’, an action hero whose similarity to the overheated exploits of James Bond is surely just a coincidence. There’s a touch of The Twilight Zone here when the author’s typewriter seems to have a mind of its own and is perhaps more the creator of the popular stories than Henry realises. It’s silly but quite fun and not nearly as jarring as some of the other stories in this issue have been. 4 out of 5.

The Blue Monkeys (part 3), by Thomas Burnett Swann

The last part of this serial is as good as its previous parts. Here we discover what happens when Ajax attacks Eunostos the Minotaur’s home in an attempt to retrieve our two wayward teenagers Thea and Icarus, although really, it’s about Ajax trying to get Thea, having being spurned before, and, to quote the story, “ravish her”. Much of the first part of this month's serial deals dramatically with the battle between Ajax and the beasts of the forest, which is very well done. The last part of the tale is surprisingly elegiac with an unexpectedly delightful bitter-sweet ending.

I am surprised how much I have enjoyed this story. I might even go as far as to say that for me this is one of the best serials I have read in years. 4 out of 5.

Summing up Science Fantasy

Bit of a mixture this issue. It’s not bad, but at the same time not the best issue I’ve read. Nothing really stands out other than the Burnett Swann serial. Overall it feels a bit depressing and downbeat. More worryingly, we seem to be repeating the same ideas over and over, things that are variations on what we’ve read before. I’m getting a bit fed up of bleak post-apocalyptic tales for one. In summary though, this is an eclectic mixture of the good and the downright odd, and I suspect that the range will elicit a range of responses.

The Second Issue At Hand

And so, hoping for a more positive experience, I turned to the February 1965 New Worlds. Last month’s issue was a cracker, so I was keen to read this one.


Cover by Jakubowicz

Whereas I’ve noticed both of the Editors stamp their personalities in the two magazines lately, New Worlds’s editorial this month is more of a news summary than an actual Editorial.

Both Moorcock and Bonfiglioli have used the space in the past to put forward a particular view, like say John W. Campbell in Analog, but instead the New Worlds Editorial this month appears to be a perfunctory one about what is going on in the genre scene around Britain. There's some things that are good to know, but with the resultant loss of identity, I suspect that this is less Moorcock’s handiwork and perhaps more by Assistant Editor Langdon Jones.

The most exciting thing mentioned this month is that Britain will host a World Convention for only the second time, in August in Mayfair, London. The Guest of Honour will be Brian W. Aldiss, which all sounds very thrilling.

The Power of Y (part 2), by Arthur Sellings

The second and final part of this story turns all James Bond-ian, with Max Afford’s revelation last month of a big conspiracy – that (warning: plot revelation ahead!) the President of the Federated States of Europe is a Plied copy, and only he can tell! No reason for this new skill is ever given, incidentally, but it’s not really relevant to the bigger picture. The last part of this story continues the idea that someone is covering up what happened, and this includes getting rid of the inventors of the Plying method and Max rescuing the copied President. It is an excitingly written, fast-paced tale that had a great twist in the end that managed to actually tie things up – I wish I could say that for every story I read in these magazines!


Oh look- more rubbish artwork!

Despite the artwork, I am very pleased with this one overall, one of the few serials in New Worlds I’ve really liked over the past year or so. 4 out of 5.

More Than A Man, by John Baxter

Although this follows a similar theme to Sellings’ story of secret identity, this is a rather old-fashioned story. It’s an adventure tale, combining Galactic Empires (not the first time we’ll hear of those this month!) and spymanship, as Graves and Bailey travel the Galaxy servicing robots that have been placed in key positions of power in an ongoing covert war. Think of it as a Space Opera version of Rudyard Kipling’s Empirical adventure Kim mixed up with Asimov’s Robotics stories. Australian John Baxter (last seen in Science Fantasy last April) tells us an exciting yet perfunctory tale. It’s fun and I enjoyed it a lot, but it is nothing that would be out of place from the magazines of the 1950’s. 3 out of 5.

When the Sky Falls, by John Hamilton

The second of our stories involving someone named John this month is another story examining religion, a topic I’m heartily sick of, to be honest. But I can’t deny that it’s a weighty topic, even when this story is brief, and one that many seem happy to examine through the auspices of a science fiction magazine. As the title suggests, this is a tale of Armageddon and what happens when the day of judgement arrives. For such a momentous event there’s nothing particularly notable about it. 2 out of 5.


This is better! Artwork by James Cawthorn

The Singular Quest of Martin Borg, by George Collyn

This lengthy tale treads a similar path to Mr. Collyn’s last story, Mixup, in the November-December 1964 issue, as it is a parody. It is undoubtedly hyper-enthusiastic, telling of how Martin Borg came to be. It is a story with everything thrown in, deliberately using the purpliest of pulp prose to flit across science-fictional ideas of Cosmic Minds, matter transference and Galactic Empires, as we are told of Martin’s odd parentage and ensuing education and growth.

As a result, it varies wildly from parts that hit their target well to other sections that are just over-excitedly silly. It is rather amusing to have this parody of Asimov’s robotics and Galactic Empire stories alongside John Baxter’s more straightforward version earlier in the magazine. Which, in itself, is a point, I guess. I liked some of it, but at the same time I’m a tad uncomfortable with a story that makes a joke out of rape. 3 out of 5.

The Mountain, by James Colvin

Moorcock’s latest under his nom de plume is a story of two men in (another) post-apocalyptic environment who are in Swedish Lappland on the trail of a young woman. As the story progresses the purpose of the plot changes from trying to meet the young girl to surviving climbing a mountain. It’s really all about the need for human challenge. There’s some nice musing on time and place and Man’s insignificance in all of this, but it is a story with limited potential and the now inevitable dour conclusion. 3 out of 5.

Box, by Richard Wilson

A strange tale of Harry McCann, whose existence is in the latest space saving economy,  a 7 x 7 x 5 feet box. Eating, sleeping and basically living his life as an artist & illustrator is all contained in this restricted space. It sounds unlikely but this story of a future with no physical human contact gets its message across without becoming tedious. 3 out of 5.

Articles

I suspect partly inspired by the new critical magazine SF Horizons, mentioned last month, Moorcock seems to be reintroducing more reviews and literary criticism than we’ve seen for a while. There’s an increased amount of articles this month, scattered through the magazine.

Biological Electricity attempts to do what the Good Doctor Asimov does so much better in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. This short article looks at how electricity generated spontaneously by living creatures could be used in the future. It’s informative but not as accessible as your American equivalent.

Can Spacemen Live With Their Illusions? is an article that shows us how space exploration may be hampered by the psychological as well as the physical effects on the intrepid travellers dealing with a new environment.

Book Reviews

In terms of Books this month, Mike Moorcock as James Colvin reviews The Worlds of Science Fiction by Robert P. Mills, and Introducing SF by the already mentioned soon-to-be-Worldcon-Guest-of-Honour Brian W. Aldiss. Brief mention is also made of Harry Harrison's The Ethical Engineer, The Paper Dolls by L. P. Davies, Galouye's The Last Leap and John Lymington's The Sleep Eaters as well as the reissue of some classic horror novels.

We also have a number of more in-depth reviews. James Colvin (remember him?) writes another celebratory review of Burroughs – that’s William S., not Edgar Rice – this time for his novel The Naked Lunch. At 42 shillings, though – nearly three times the price of an average hardback book – you've got to have some serious money to take the plunge.

Newcomer Alan Forrest pens an enthusiastic essay entitled Did Elric Die in Vain? about Mike Moorcock’s Fantasy character Elric (who was once a staple of Science Fantasy, now seemingly transferred over to New Worlds) in the novel Stormbringer and Hilary Bailey (aka Mrs Mike Moorcock) reviews Who? by Algis Budrys, summarised nicely by its title, Hardly SF.

No ratings this month but there is news that the next issue will include a JG Ballard story. Hurrah!

Summing up New Worlds

New Worlds is an eclectic mixture this month and there are signs that Moorcock is making his own stamp on the magazine. The addition of factual science articles and more literary reviews reflect this, and it must be said that the expansion of literary criticism has been one of Mike’s intentions since he took over as Editor. It’ll be interesting to see how the regular readers respond to it.

By including such material of course means that there’s less space for fiction, and I suspect that whilst that might ease Moorcock’s load a little – he is writing and editing a fair bit of it, after all – it may not sit well with readers. But then we are now monthly…

Summing up overall

Both issues read this month are pretty strong. I enjoyed the eclecticism of New Worlds, whilst Science Fantasy had some of the best stories amongst the less endearing. Consequently, both score well, but for different reasons. However, in this battle of the magazines I declare New Worlds the winner for me this month.

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

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

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[January 20, 1965] The T.A.R.D.I.S. Lands Down Under and Japan Invades Australia (Doctor Who and The Samurai)

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by Kaye Dee

I’ve been reading Jessica Holmes’ insightful articles about the British science fiction television series Doctor Who since she first started commenting on this show (see December 1963 entry) and I’ve been looking forward for some time to actually seeing it air in Australia. At last my wish has been granted! The T.A.R.D.I.S. has finally landed here, with Doctor Who commencing on the Australian Broadcasting Commission (the ABC is the Australian equivalent of the BBC) just in the past week, mesmerising me with those incredible opening credits.


Doctor Who's ethereal and abstract opening credits perfectly suggest travelling along the corridors of time

Not Just Kid Stuff

I heard from a friend who works at the ABC that Australia has been one of the first countries to buy Doctor Who from the BBC. In fact, I was really excited when he told me in March last year that the ABC had purchased the show and intended to debut it last May, but then delays arose due to censorship issues. Yes, although Doctor Who is classed as a family show in Britain, the Australian censors (who view and classify every overseas television show that comes into the country) have deemed the first thirteen episodes to be not suitable for children and classified them as “Adult”! This means that the ABC must schedule these episodes for screening after 7pm and couldn’t show Doctor Who in the Sunday night 6.30pm timeslot it originally planned. But at last Doctor Who has found a home on Friday night at 7.30pm (at least in Sydney). I just hope the censors aren’t going to decide one day that some stories are too scary to be screened at all!

Doing the Rounds

A funny thing about the ABC is that sometimes when it buys a show from overseas it only purchases one film copy of each episode. This film reel then has to be sent around from state to state so that it can be screened by the ABC broadcaster in each capital city. So, the first Australian screening of Doctor Who was actually in Perth on Tuesday, 12 January. Sydney and Canberra (linked by cable) were next on 15 January. Brisbane will get to see Doctor Who next Friday 22 January, but Melbourne will have to wait until Saturday 20 February and Adelaide won’t see the first episode until Monday 15 March! I’m glad I live in Sydney now.


Anthony Coburn (left) and Ron Grainer (right) may be virtually unknown in Australia, but they've had successful careers in Britain and have made important contributions to the creation of Doctor Who

The Australian Connection

It’s great to see that some Australians are involved with the production of Doctor Who. The premiere story, “An Unearthly Child” has been written by Anthony Coburn. I’d never really heard of him before, but according to a few newspaper articles reviewing the first episode he was born in Melbourne and has been working in England for many years as a staff writer for the BBC. Ron Grainer, who composed the wonderfully eerie and evocative theme music, has also spent most of his professional career composing music in Britain, although he grew up in a small mining town in far north Queensland. Vicki Lucas’ fascinating article on the music of Doctor Who (see December 1963 entry) tells me that an obviously talented lady named Delia Derbyshire at the BBC’s Radiophonic Workshop created the amazing sound of Grainer’s composition: all I can say is that I’m in awe of her skill at creating electronic music, now that I have actually heard the theme tune for myself.


The mysterious Doctor Who and his granddaughter Susan. I wonder when we'll find out where they really come from and why they are exiles from their home world

A Family Viewing Experience

And that’s what I’ve discovered with the first episode of Doctor Who: it’s one thing to read about the show and look forward to seeing it, but it’s a whole new experience to actually watch it on television. My sister Faye and her kids watched “Unearthly Child” with me and we were all caught up in the mystery of Susan and her grandfather and what's going to happen to the two school teachers now that they've been whisked away somewhere in time and space in the Doctor’s T.A.R.D.I.S. Vickie and David certainly didn’t think that Doctor Who was just for adults, no matter what the censors said! We’re all looking forward to the next episode and enjoying the adventures that those of you in Britain have been watching for over a year.


Promotional image for The Samurai, showing Shintaro wielding a longsword that is the traditional weapon of a samurai warrior. The title character is played by actor Koichi Ose

Japanese Television Arrives in Australia

Doctor Who isn’t the only new television import to catch my attention lately. Despite the animosity that many Australians have felt towards Japan since the War, last year’s Tokyo Olympic Games, where our young swimmer Dawn Fraser did so well, sparked a lot of interest and curiosity about Japan and its culture. So much so, in fact, that TCN-9 in Sydney started showing the first ever Japanese television series on Australian screens at the end of December. It’s an action adventure series called The Samurai, set in feudal Japan three centuries ago. Channel 9 is taking a gamble with this show, which I guess is why they’ve put it on in the doldrums period of the Summer holidays.


Shintaro narrowly avoids a brace of 'star knives' (a weapon used by the ninjas). I've heard that Dads are now making home-made ones for their kids, snipped from used tin lids. It'll be fun to play samurai and ninjas until someone gets hurt with one of these!

A "Western", Japanese Style

The Samurai tells the story of a master swordsman named Shintaro (the “samurai” of the title), a half-brother of Japan’s young ruler, the Shogun, who travels around Japan putting down plots against his brother’s government, usually by the villainous gangs of a semi-magical secret society known as ninjas: you could say that Shintaro is a medieval Japanese cross between James Bond, a Western gunslinger and Robin Hood! Channel 9 has been showing The Samurai five days a week at 3.30pm and with its exotic setting, supernatural action and endearingly bad dubbing with broad American accents, it’s fast becoming very popular – and not just with the kids. Faye’s husband, Bruce, has been absorbed in the show while he’s on holidays and I’ve taken to this fascinating curiosity of a show as well. Mind you, so many ninjas get killed in each episode, I’m surprised the censors haven’t labelled The Samurai as “Adult”, alongside Doctor Who!

Japan Invades the Top 40, Too

Another bit of Japanese culture has also been making its presence felt in the Top 40 charts. In August last year, the lovely Noeleen Batley, Australia’s first female pop singer to have a national hit song, released an English version of a song that was a huge hit in Japan in 1963. “Little Treasure from Japan” charted in Sydney and Brisbane and even made it all the way to #16 in Melbourne last October. It really is a sweet little song, with one of those tunes you can’t get out of your head. My niece Vickie’s dance teacher is already creating a dance routine for her class to perform to the song for their mid-year concert. Now we just have to figure out where we can find a kimono for her costume.


Australia's "Little Miss Sweetheart" Noeleen Batley has had a hit with "Little Treasure from Japan". You can see by the wear on the cover that Faye's copy of the record has already been played quite a bit

Australia International

The fact that Channel 9 took a risk on screening The Samurai is an indication of how much Australians have broadened their worldview since the end of the War. The large influx of European migrants has introduced us to delicious new foods, good coffee (thank you!) and a more cosmopolitan outlook. Our TV might be dominated by British, American and (a long way third) Australian shows now, but hopefully we'll soon see more international programmes. Perhaps someday we'll even see a television channel offering programmes from around the world: I can't wait to see what fun and entertainment we've been missing out on!

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Magazine, Serial

[January 18, 1965] Doors also open (February 1965 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Eulogy for One

I opened this month's Fantasy & Science Fiction to the sad news that author Richard McKenna had passed away.  He was quite an excellent author, one who (like me) started writing fiction late in life.  That he was only to devote eight years to a career he'd hoped to last for sixty is a tragedy for all concerned.  Here's his obituary in full.

It is perhaps the fittest balm that the February 1965 issue of F&SF is the first really good one in a long time.  New editor Joe Ferman may have finally exhausted the dreck his predecessor, Avram Davidson, had assembled.  Aside from the improvement in quality and the inclusion of an honest-to-goodness science fiction story, I note there is only one piece in what I'd call the "joke" category, and there are four entries by women.  F&SF has traditionally published the most women per capita, but under Davidson's reign, that distinction had been surrendered.

So let's welcome back this return to form (long may it last).  Come take look:

The Issue at Hand


by Jack Gaughan

Marque and Reprisal, by Poul Anderson

Perhaps a hundred years from now, Earth's World Federation, beginning to settle the stars, runs into the humanoid Aleriona in the disputed Phoenix sector.  A misunderstanding ensues, and after Alerion ships slaughter the human population of New Europe with nuclear missiles, they occupy the planet.

Accidents happen.  Surely the decimation of half a million people is not worth risking interstellar war over, especially on the eve of establishing formal trade relations between Earth and Alerion.  Except, as we learn early on, most of those 500,000 colonists aren't dead.  They are holed up in New Europe's mountains, hoping for a rescue effort that the Federation is unwilling to mount.  Thus, the information is suppressed, its purveyors ostracized.

This all sits poorly with Gunnar Heim, a former space cruiser captain.  If not the Federation as a whole, surely at least one nation will stand up for New Europe.  And indeed, France would do so — if it had its own navy, which it does not in this future enlightened time.

But the Federation was never a signatory to the 1856 Declaration of Paris, which outlawed Letters of Marque…

This story takes a little while to get going, and it has a little bit too much of the protagonist talking to himself, which is one of Poul Anderson's idiosyncrasies.  It also lacks a single woman character.  On the other hand, it has many things going for it.  It is a space story, something the magazine has been sorely lacking for a long time.  It is an interesting story (ditto).  And it derails itself halfway through with a completely unexpected plot twist; I always appreciate it when an author can pull this off.

I'm giving it four stars even though it ends on a cliffhanger.  If there isn't a sequel, I'll eat my hat.

The Sin of Edna Schuster, by Willard Marsh

Mrs. Schuster engages in a tryst with a passionate, mysterious man named Raoul, an expatriate from some Latin country.  It becomes quite clear at the end that he is not quite of this world.

I am going to refrain from rating this one.  It's quite well written, but I fail to recognize the fable/myth it references at the end, so I cannot tell how effective it is at what it's trying to do.

Please enlighten me?

Mrs. Pribley's Underdog, by Sue Sanford

Aging widow Pribley discovers and becomes quite fond of an alien she finds on her lawn, one best described as a looking like an organic vacuum cleaner.  But if this is the extraterrestrial her scientist brother has been in mental communication with, why is it that it is suddenly incapable of anything more than the most rudimentary thoughts?

It's cute, the "joke" story I mentioned.  Three stars.

Time and the Sphinx, by Leah Bodine Drake

Here's a lovely piece about Time as personified aspect, and the Egyptian goddess-in-stone he comes to loathe.  Can he defeat her with his withering powers?  And will he be pleased with the outcome?

Four stars.

Harmony in Heaven, by Isaac Asimov

In which the Good Doctor discovers Kepler's Third Law and proceeds to draw up a number of tables.  It's exciting as it sounds (although, to be fair, Dr. A. is never bad).

Three stars.

The Switch, by Calvin Demmon

The Professor has been dead for a century, but his soul lives on in a box as gray as he was when he passed.  Every few months, he is switched on by some 21st Century student who wants first-hand knowledge of life in the 20th. 

Is this immortality?  Or a kind of hell?  Either way, I found it poignant.  Four stars.

Look Up, by Karen Anderson

The subject of this poem is the Tomorrowland that is space.  The quality is not up to Karen's usual snuff.  Two stars.

The Absolutely Perfect Murder, by Miriam Allen deFord

How best to eliminate a pesky spouse?  Kill their father before the spouse can be born, of course!  But, as is always the case with stories, there's an unforeseen wrinkle.

Nothing new with this piece, but neither is there anything offensive.  A low three stars.

The Placebo Effect, by Theodore L. Thomas

Our science springboardist suggests that the Placebo Effect, which is real, could be developed into a perfect cure, if only we could find the perfect placebo for every malady.

You'll quickly spot the logical fallacy, but as satire, it's kind of fun.

Three stars.

The Deadeye Dick Syndrome, by Robert M. Green, Jr.

Against the admonitions of a crackpot occultist, Tom Fish heads out to the desert.  And in the pre-dawn dark, he comes face to face with the "vast black thing, poised like a crow over the moon."  Suffused with a thrilling energy, he returns to his town only to find he is now utterly despised by all — liked Deadeye Dick from H.M.S. Pinafore.  Only the fruitcake can save Fish from an imminent lynching.

It starts excitingly, ends confusingly, and there is entirely too much quoting and name-dropping of Charles Fort and Messrs. Gilbert and Sullivan, but I hesitate to give it lower than three stars just because I am largely ignorant of the work of those three men.

Dialogue in a Twenty-First Century Dining Room, by Robert F. Young

Last up is a short piece in script form detailing how a scrupulously average couple in a deliberately average society manage to beat the wondrous Bartlett's quoting rowk bird into insipid inanity.

Good for what it is.  Three stars.

Celebration for All

And so, we say good-bye to a bright star, but we see the rosy-fingered dawn of a reborn F&SF.  Sadness and hope in equal measures.  Things could be worse.  I'll drink to both.


by "Moonman82"

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TV, Uncategorized

[January 16, 1965] What a Difference a Year Makes (The Outer Limits, Season 2, Episodes 13-17)

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by Natalie Devitt

About this time last year, I was writing glowing reviews about The Outer Limits. It is a little disappointing that it is already time to say goodbye to the show. But with a number of changes behind the scenes, a new timeslot that certainly has not helped with ratings, and good episodes becoming few and far between, it does not entirely come as a surprise that the show did not even make it through a full second season. That said, it is with some sadness that I look back at the final five offerings from The Outer Limits.

The Duplicate Man, by Robert C. Dennis

In this adaptation of Clifford D. Simak’s 1951 story Goodnight, Mr. James, it is the year 2025 and “an alien life of unimaginable horror” called a Megasoid is on the loose, despite the fact that Megasoids “haven’t been permitted since 1986.” The creature is living in an exhibit at the Space Zoological Garden, unbeknownst to the site’s staff or visitors. Luckily, the Megasoid is currently less of a threat to the general public due to the fact that it is in the middle of its “reproductive cycle.“ Once the cycle ends, the alien’s instinct to kill reactivates.

It is up to the man responsible for bringing the Megasoid to Earth, a researcher named Henderson James, performed by Ron Randell of 1961’s King of Kings, to hunt the creature down. Rather than put himself in danger, James hatches a plan, which involves creating a duplicate of himself that can be “programmed to find and kill a Megasoid.” But he has to be careful because duplicates can be very realistic, with the ability to recall more and more of the original person’s memories the longer they exist, which can make it nearly impossible to differentiate between the two. This means that the duplicate must be destroyed as soon as its task has been completed. Unfortunately for James, that does not quite happen before the doppleganger has an opportunity to meet his wife, played by the lovely Constance Towers, who I must say has been making some interesting movies with director Samuel Fuller lately.

The premise of this episode could work in the right hands. Here, there are too many pieces that never quite seem to quite fit together; perhaps it simply tries too hard. Artistically, it certainly is ambitious, with its very stylized lighting, atmospheric musical score provided by Harry Lubin, great filming locations (which include the Chemosphere in Los Angeles), and some shots which appear to be fairly carefully composed. The costume design, while sometimes odd, takes some bold risks. On the topic of odd costumes, the episode’s creature looks a cross between a bird and a gorilla.

The dialogue and performances can be awkward at times. Even though it is a misfire, I have to give the show some praise for trying with The Duplicate Man. Two and a half stars, mainly for the art direction and production design.

Counterweight, by Milton Krims

Counterweight is based on the short story by the same name from writer Jerry Sohl. In this telling of his story, a group of five men, which include Michael Constantine (The Twilight Zone’s I am the Night- Color Me Black) and one woman, played by Jacqueline Scott (The Outer Limits’s The Galaxy Being), participate in an experiment that spans several months, a simulated journey in space to a planet called Antheon, in hopes of winning a cash prize. Inside their mock spacecraft is a panic button that anyone on board can press at any time for any reason if they want out of the experiment. In the event that the panic button is pressed, the entire experiment is terminated, and each of them goes home empty-handed. Once aboard, it is not long before strange and difficult to explain things begin happening to each of the crew members and they all start to blame one another, which jeopardizes the fate of the experiment. Is it all psychosomatic or is an outside force trying to sabotage them?

Perfectly good actors can not save Counterweight from itself, probably because there is absolutely no character development. Instead what we have is stereotypes, like the uneducated construction worker or the lonely spinster career woman. Growing worse as it unfolds, the hour’s final act is an absolute disaster, aside from a brief but memorable appearance by a much more entertaining stop motion plant creature.

Those factors combined with some seriously slow pacing overall, makes Counterweight extremely difficult to watch from start to finish. Having said that, there are a few effectively spooky moments, especially when each of the characters is trying to fall asleep, while unknowingly being targeted by a mysterious entity. Also, during these sequences, the musical score is especially effective. Still, one and a half stars is about all I can offer to Counterweight.

The Brain of Colonel Barham, by Robert C. Dennis

The United States is eager to be the first country to put a man on Mars. Colonel Barham (Anthony Eisley of Hawaiian Eye), with his “specialized knowledge about space technology”, is the perfect man for the job. The only problem is that he has been diagnosed with a terminal illness. His superiors in the military think they have the solution to solve everyone’s problems, so they propose that “his brain would be saved, perhaps forever, only the diseased, worn-out body would be discarded.“ Barham’s brain would then be attached to devices and sent into space.

Barham decides to save his precious brain and all of the esoteric information it contains. Once the procedure is completed, it is stored in a vat and hooked up to machines, which allow his brain to communicate with others. A short time later, it begins “developing new tissue.” It turns out there is an unforeseen complication of removing the brain from the body: it grows increasingly difficult to control. Anthony Eisley’s former Hawaiian Eye cast mate and star of 1957's The Incredible Shrinking Man, Grant Williams, also appears in the episode as a psychologist.

I love a good brain-in-a-jar story as much as the next girl, but this is not exactly the best rendition of the concept that I have seen. Sure, The Brain of Colonel Barham has its share of enjoyable silliness, but the episode is often bogged down by Barham’s cruelness. The voice-over used for Barham’s voice once his brain is removed is laughably bad, too. Two stars.

The Premonition, by Ib Melchior and Sam Roeca

When pilot Jim Darcy, played by Dewey Martin (The Thing from Another World (1951) and The Twilight Zone’s I Shot an Arrow Into the Sky) crashes his test plane at the exact same moment his wife, Linda (1953's The Wild One's Mary Murphy), loses control behind the wheel, time suddenly freezes, or so it seems. Reunited outside of time, they are given a glimpse of life ten seconds into the future. What they find is their daughter only seconds away from being hit by a truck. Do they try to intervene, even if it means that they risk remaining stuck in time?

Another time-related story from Ib Melchior (The Time Travelers, 1964), The Premonition is very flawed. Yet it is also easily the episode out of this entire batch that has stayed with me the most after viewing it, even though I must confess I did not care much for the character Jim.

The special effects are decent, though do not always stack up against last season's effects. There is also the fairly creative use of still photographs to explore time, which kind of reminds me of Chris Marker’s La Jetée (1962). Being a huge fan of the Left Bank directors from the French New Wave, that sort of thing is right up my alley. Much like many art house films, it leaves the viewer with a number of questions, but somehow I do not really mind. All in all, this hour of the series earns three stars from me.

The Probe, by Seeleg Lester

While aboard a plane flying over Japan, a crew, which includes actors Mark Richman (revisiting The Outer Limits for the first time since The Borderland), television western actor Ron Hayes and Juvenile Oscar winner Peggy Ann Garner, find themselves in a hurricane. After abandoning their plane, they incorrectly assume they are floating in their life raft, only to discover that they are not on water at all. They have actually been captured and are being held in a space probe. To make matters worse, they are being stalked by a strange creature, which they later believe to be “a mutant, a strain of germ that grew, and grew, and grew” that is also capable of duplicating itself.

I have some mixed feelings about The Probe. On the one hand, it can be incredibly corny, with its absolutely ludicrous creature, a microbe. During the scene where it duplicated itself, I nearly laughed so hard that I cried. On the other hand, the entry probably has the most convincing bunch of actors playing the most likeable, fleshed out cast of characters that I have seen on the program over the past five weeks, including the single most memorable female character.

Now, I am not usually one to get on my soapbox, but The Outer Limits has seemed to be growing less progressive in its depiction of women over the course of the second season, mostly relegated to playing nagging wives, victims or sad career women. Last season, the female characters were allowed to be much more complex and sympathetic, so Peggy Ann Garner’s character is a breath of fresh air. As a whole, I am not completely sold by The Probe, especially since it drags a little in the middle. Nevertheless, it is fairly entertaining, with actors who bring a degree of believability to even the weakest scenes, which is why it earns two and a half stars.

What now?

Reflecting on the last five entries of The Outer Limits, and on the series as a whole, The Duplicate Man was not as rewarding as it could have been, Counterweight had few redeeming qualities, The Brain of Colonel Barham could be amusing at times, The Premonition was worth the watch, and The Probe was nearly saved by its great cast. While there certainly were some great episodes from time to time towards the end of the program's run, this is pretty representative of the second season of The Outer Limits. A show that I truly hate to say became a shell of its former self.

Sadly, this was not the farewell anyone could have wanted for the series, especially since its departure (and the ending of Alfred Hitchcock Presents this spring) means an end to more than a decade of science fiction/fantasy/horror anthology shows.

When will we ever see their like again?

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[January 12, 1965] Last Minute Reprieve (the February 1965 Amazing)

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by John Boston

The Issue at Hand


Paula McLane

Well, what have we here?  A pretty decent issue of Amazing, not a common occasion at all, with some good and/or interesting material, one disappointing item by a big-name author, but no offenses against reason and decency!  Let us count our blessings, and proceed directly to their dissection.

He Who Shapes, by Roger Zelazny


George Schelling

Roger Zelazny’s two-part serial He Who Shapes concludes in this issue, and is the most pleasant surprise here: a capable writer taking on a substantial task and working hard to do a good job of it.  It features a psychiatrist specializing in neuroparticipation therapy: he projects hyper-realistic dreams into his patients’ minds and then stars in them, directing the action to the therapeutic end of his choice.  This is Render, the Shaper—a hokey note, but not misplaced, given the oratorical level of the whole. 

Neuroparticipation is a powerful tool, but sometimes double-edged: the therapist can lose control of the action and wind up in the patient’s movie, not his own.  Render is someone whose roots in his own reality are a little tenuous, by at least unconscious design: after the death of his wife, he maintains a determinedly superficial relationship with his mistress (sic) Jill, and a parental relationship with his son that is ostentatiously concerned (e.g., he changes the son’s school repeatedly) but seems emotionally arms-length.

So when another psychiatrist, brilliant, female, blind since birth, and of course also beautiful, asks Render to instruct her via neuroparticipation in visual imagery so she too can become a neuroparticipation therapist, the sophisticated reader can only think “Uh-oh.” I won’t go further; this is one that deserves to be read.  Not that it’s perfect by any means; unlike almost everything else in sight, it seems too short, and the end in particular seems rushed and underdeveloped.  But it’s a welcome sign both for the magazine and for the author, who seems to have moved from the “promising” column to the “delivering” one.  A strong four stars.

Far Reach to Cygnus, by Fritz Leiber

Fritz Leiber’s Far Reach to Cygnus, a sequel of sorts to The Goggles of Dr. Dragonet from Fantastic of a few years ago, is labelled a short story but at 23 pages is as long as many novelets in this magazine.  It’s a rambling, low-intensity sort of thing, agreeable enough while reading, but it compares badly to Leiber’s tighter and sharper pieces like Mariana (Fantastic, 1960), A Deskful of Girls (F&SF, 1958), or for that matter the short novel The Big Time (Galaxy, 1958). 

Here’s another psychological theme, of sorts.  To open, our first-person narrator is racing eagerly to Dr. Dragonet’s redoubt in the Santa Monica Mountains, lured by Dragonet’s promise of “a drug that is to mescalin and LSD as they are to weak coffee.” Upon arrival there is some byplay involving the police, a beautiful young woman, and a possibly illusory black leopard.

Our hero then enters a sort of seance featuring another beautiful young woman, recumbent in a long white dress, and already drugged, describing a scene on an extraterrestrial planet featuring blue grass and inhabited by elvish blue people who ride unicorns.  Also present are a Professor, a Father, a Sister, “a handsome crophaired sun-tanned suavely muscled” young Hollywood man in all-white garb, who is “the newest and most successful Brando-surrogate and homegrown Mastroianni” of the media, and of course Dr. Dragonet.

The drug, or “psionic elixir,” is brought in by a third beautiful young woman (now we have a brunette, a blonde, and a redhead, all of them Dr. Dragonet’s nieces, if I am keeping score correctly).  But first, several pages of debate about the mind-body problem!  Finally, sixteen pages in, the characters start to take the drug, one by one, leading into several pages of drug effects, not badly done—the drug, as advertised, is psionic, so each character is seeing through the eyes of all of them.

And of course the drug effects become very palpable and menacing (mind-manifesting rather concretely, one might say) and are banished, and the Brando-surrogate, who it turned out was pretty dangerous, is psychically neutralized, and the white-garbed sort-of-medium recites some appalling developments on the blue planet (invaders with flamethrowers), and the police show up again briefly and comically, and much is made throughout about how fetching the young women are and how aroused and frustrated the narrator is (cheesecake without pictures, one might say). 

But all of these (slowly) moving parts don’t really add up to much (the police and blue planet subplots in particular go nowhere), and certainly don’t disguise the fact that the story is no more than a facile pot-boiler with some trendy furnishings.  Two stars.

The Answerer, by Bill Casey

New writer Bill Casey contributes The Answerer, the sort of story that might have appeared in Unknown in the early ‘40s—a fantastic premise developed like SF—except that editor Campbell wouldn’t have dared publish it.  Suddenly, prayers are being answered.  Everybody’s prayers.  So what happens?  As one of the characters puts it: “There can be nothing more dangerous than a personal god who actively interferes in the lives of men.” Hint: what if a lot of mental patients started praying?  It’s not the vignette one might expect to see on this theme, but an actual story, with a suitably sardonic ending.  Four stars.

Reunion, by David R. Bunch

David R. Bunch, who mostly hangs out in Fantastic these days, has his first appearance here in almost two years.  His short story Reunion is more lucid and less precious than his usual.  The language is also more straightforward though the preoccupation remains the same: the lives of humans whose bodies have been largely replaced with machinery (“new-metal” held together with “flesh-strips”; I think “cyborg” is becoming the fashionable term).  The unnamed protagonist is visited in his Stronghold by his twin brother, who “went with the big Paper Shield” (i.e., became a minister) rather than the metal one.  Protagonist is much troubled about their relationship and the prospect of meeting again, and considers shooting him, but in the end puts on the dog for him, mechanically speaking.  A moment of epiphany follows, but once the brother leaves—back to business as usual, war with the neighbors.  Three stars.

The Gobbitch Men, by Alfred Grossman


George Schelling

There’s a different flavor of the surreal in The Gobbitch Men by Alfred Grossman, who we are assured is “a novelist of some repute” responsible for Acrobat Admits and Many Slippery Errors, which I haven’t read, but which I gather could be described as black humor with anarchist tendencies.  So what’s he doing in Amazing?  I think writers use the term “salvage market.”

Grossman’s protagonist Irving is an ineffectual, incipiently alcoholic graduate student of the future, working on his thesis on the unbearably tedious, advisor-dictated subject of popular music of the late twentieth century, when he is delivered by mistake some spools titled Population and Catastrophe and the like.  He asks questions, learns how things really are in his world, is warned that he should keep on the straight and narrow or else, but the or else is imminent anyway.  Oh, the title?  The gobbitch men make a big racket with the cans, but that’s to cover their more sinister covert errand, which has suddenly become highly relevant to Irving.

This one is an interesting try, a heavy-handed dystopian satire in the mode of early Galaxy, cartoony and overdone, but still quite well written, as befits “a novelist of some repute.” Three stars, and I wouldn’t mind seeing Mr. Grossman slumming here again.

S. Fowler Wright: SF’s Devil’s Disciple, by Sam Moskowitz

Sam Moskowitz soldiers on with the SF Profile series, this time with a less familar and more interesting subject than usual: S. Fowler Wright: SF’s Devil’s Disciple.  Wright is a particularly good subject for Moskowitz, who prefers writing about work of the ‘30s and ‘40s, since almost all of Wright’s SF work was published then or even earlier.  The best-known of his novels include The Amphibians (1924), The Island of Captain Sparrow (1928), Deluge (1928), Dawn (1929), The World Below (1929), Dream, or The Simian Maid (1931), The Adventure of Wyndham Smith (1938), and Spiders’ War (1954).

Titles to conjure with!  But not much else, since as far as I can tell, Wright’s SF is entirely out of print, at least in the US—suffering the fate of his ideas.  Wright, who is still around, 91 next month, is distinguished by his opposition to scientific progress generally and birth control in particular (no hypocrite he—he has ten children), and much of his work is dedicated to extolling the virtues of noble savagery.  Moskowitz’s denunciation of these views helps make this article rather livelier than many of its predecessors, and the unfamiliarity of his work lends it considerable interest.  Four stars.

Summing Up

So—not a bad issue of Amazing, something one doesn’t see more than once or twice a year.  There’s even a sort of unifying theme, psychology, if you count the ostentatiously neurotic protagonist of The Gobbitch Men.  Can Amazing do it again?  Maybe even make it a trend?  The public breathlessly awaits.

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[January 10, 1965] A Little Breather (Doctor Who: The Rescue)

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By Jessica Holmes

Hello again! I hope everyone had a good time over the holidays. We’ve got a nice short serial to ease us into the new year, and thank goodness for that. I think another behemoth like The Dalek Invasion Of Earth would have killed me.

THE POWERFUL ENEMY

The Rescue is a story from David Whitaker. For some, that name may ring a bell. For me, that ringing is ominous and filled with doom. Why? Because the last time he wrote for Doctor Who, he gave us this little gem: The Edge Of Destruction.

So, that’s… encouraging.

We begin with a crashed spaceship. Admittedly I didn’t immediately realise that it was a spaceship, as the model looks far smaller. The ship’s split in two, and inside, there are two humans awaiting rescue: Vicki and Bennett.

Vicki’s just picked up a signal, and rushes to tell Bennett that their rescue ship has arrived. But how can that be? The rescue isn’t due for a few days yet. Bennett tells Vicki to double check with the rescuers, and warns her to watch out for someone called Koquillion, who will kill them if he finds out about the rescue.

Vicki is dismayed to find out that the rescue hasn’t actually arrived. But whose signal did she pick up?

Why, the TARDIS' of course. The Doctor’s having a nice little kip, much to the bemusement of Ian and Barbara, who’ve never seen him sleep through a landing. He’s acting quite oddly indeed, being terribly confused when they wake him up and inform him that they’ve landed. He decides to go out to have a look, and begins asking Susan to open the doors, before remembering that she’s gone.

There’s a moment where Susan’s absence is palpable, but it quickly passes and the group leave the TARDIS, emerging into a dark cave. His curiosity satisfied, the Doctor goes back inside for a nap.

No, you’re not alone in thinking this is weird. Ian and Barbara think so too. Ian suggests the Doctor’s age might be catching up with him, but Barbara counters that it’s more likely to do with Susan’s absence. Poor bloke’s going to need some time to deal with this big change. Amusingly, he hears the pair of them talking about him, and yells at them from the other side of the door. He might be getting older, but there's certainly nothing wrong with his hearing.

Ian and Barbara head off to explore, and it’s revealed that they weren’t alone in the cave. No, they were being watched, by a rather frightening-looking chap with claws absolutely everywhere. Even coming out of his face.

This is Koquillion, and he will be making a guest appearance in my nightmares tonight.

Ian and Barbara emerge from the cave onto a cliff, and spot the downed ship in the distance. They’re just about to go and fetch the Doctor when Koquillion shows up and asks them who they are, how they got here, and if they’re alone. Not suspicious at all. Not having much of a choice, however, Ian and Barbara give him an honest answer. Koquillion asks Ian to go and fetch the Doctor, after which he will escort them to the city. Not trusting him as far as they could throw him, Ian and Barbara try to both go back to the TARDIS, but Koquillion blocks Barbara’s way.

Brandishing a staff which seems to be some sort of weapon, he asks the obviously scared Barbara if she’s frightened of him, and assures her that he’s her friend…

…Right as he pushes her off the cliff.

Getting some mixed signals from you, Koquillion.

Back at the TARDIS, the Doctor is awake and having a little chat with himself. He’s been to this planet, Dido, before, and remembers it fondly for the very friendly people. Well, it looks like he might be in for a nasty surprise.

Outside, Koquillion blasts the cave with his staff weapon, causing a cave-in and trapping Ian and the Doctor inside. The Doctor comes running out at the noise, finding an unconscious Ian.

Meanwhile at the bottom of the cliff, Barbara’s not so well herself. She seems to have broken her fall with a branch, but she’s out cold, and somebody’s just found her. But is it friend or foe?

As he comes round and catches his breath, Ian tells the Doctor about his encounter with Koquillion. Thankfully it hasn’t left him too badly hurt, though I’m not really sure how the Doctor worked that out, as he admits that he didn’t get that degree. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't have x-ray vision. Well, let’s just hope Ian doesn’t drop dead of a bleed on the brain or a collapsed lung.

Back in the downed spaceship, Koquillion comes to interrogate Vicki about what she was doing outside the ship, having spotted her dragging something around outside. He seems to be holding her and her companion captive, while acting as if he’s protecting them from his people. He departs to speak with Bennett, and Vicki pulls back a pile of blankets to reveal Barbara, looking safe and sound and pretty good considering she just fell off a cliff.

Vicki explains her situation to Barbara. There used to be many more passengers aboard this ship. When they first crash-landed, the local people invited everyone aboard to a meeting. However, Vicki wasn’t well, so didn’t go. It turned out a lucky thing, because later that evening she heard an explosion, and Bennett was the only one who made it back. Not long after, Koquillion showed up, and has been keeping a tight hold on them ever since. They're just trying to survive long enough for the rescue to arrive.

In the cave, Ian and the Doctor are trying to find a way out. I have a question: why? The TARDIS can move through space, last time I checked. Why don’t they just move the ship?

Then again, with the Doctor’s piloting skills, they might just end up on Venus.

The Doctor is beside himself worrying about what happened to the people of this planet. Violence was utterly alien to them. They couldn’t afford to hurt each other; their population only numbered in the hundreds when he last visited.

At the crashed ship, Vicki mentions that Koquillion is the only one of his people she’s seen. She thinks the others are in a village not far away. Well, that sounds a bit fishy, doesn’t it?

Vicki hears someone coming, and rushes to hide Barbara, but it turns out it’s just Bennett, so she reveals Barbara to him. However, he doesn’t look too pleased to see her.

Back in the cave, Ian and the Doctor are edging along a chasm when they hear a deep roar, and shining their torch down, reveal a creature lurking below that looks sort of like a lobster and a scorpion had a baby. An ugly baby.

Where was this neat creature design back when we needed it with the Slyther (the Dalek pet from last serial)? It's cool, it's a bit scary, and most importantly it doesn't look like a sleeping bag. The noises it makes are also unearthly, ferocious, and quite unnerving. The sound department did a good job on this one.

They carry on, and find some handholds that were clearly man-made. That’s handy. However, Ian accidentally pulls one off the wall, revealing it to be a trap. Spikes emerge from the wall, penning him in. Then more start to emerge, pushing him towards the edge.

So, this is…fine. I don’t think there’s anything else to describe The Rescue. It’s just fine. It’s not stupid like The Edge Of Destruction but it’s not particularly clever or exciting so far either, so I don’t have an awful lot to dig in to or poke fun at. Let's press on, shall we?

DESPERATE MEASURES

So, what's a man to do when blades emerge from the wall, pushing him towards certain doom? Start stripping, of course.

Thinking quickly, the Doctor tells Ian to remove his jacket. By using the jacket to cushion the edges of the spikes, Ian is now able to climb around the spikes trapping him and rescue himself. Bit of a rubbish death trap, isn't it? And Ian's jacket doesn't even seem to have split a seam.

Back at the ship, Bennett informs Barbara that according to Koquillion, her friends are dead, but she doesn’t believe him. It takes more than a mountain falling on him to kill Ian Chesterton.

Barbara has an idea to set a trap to surprise Koquillion, but Bennett thinks it’s a bad idea. They just need to sit tight until the rescue arrives, because if they fail to subdue Koquillion he’ll kill them.

He then returns to his bed, refusing Barbara’s aid.

Back in the cave, the Doctor resets the trap, clearing the way. What’s it even there for? Is it for feeding the beast below? I thought these people were peaceful? Why in the world do these lovely kind pacifistic people have a death trap that belongs in some haunted tomb straight out of an old adventure serial?

Then they find a door, but can’t find a way to open it, so carry on along the edge. The Doctor hopes nobody comes through and starts creeping up behind them.

It’d be pretty dramatic and cool if someone did but… they don’t.

Why even bring it up, then?

Meanwhile, Vicki is lugging things around outside, but the scary lobster-scorpion thing is watching her. Barbara spots it, and rushes out with the flare gun to save her. Vicki screams at her to stop, but too late: Barbara shoots the creature. The poor thing makes a pathetic sound as it dies, apparently in great pain.

Vicki is furious. Why? Because that big ugly lobster-scorpion was her pet. It was called Sandy.

She’d trained Sandy to come to her for food. It was a herbivore, and perfectly harmless, if a bit scary looking, and it was her only companion besides Bennett, who spends all his time in his own quarters.

And Barbara killed it.

Barbara, you monster.

Ian and the Doctor arrive to a very tense situation.

Back in the cave, the mystery door opens and Koquillion emerges. I can’t help but think it would have been more efficient and also a bit sinister and interesting to have him emerge just after Ian and the Doctor passed the door. See, I really am starved for things to talk about beyond summarising, so my internal editor is emerging.

Back at the ship, the Doctor and Ian are telling Vicki that she looks a bit of a mess and to cheer up.

Wow.

For one thing, that's uncharacteristically insensitive.

And for another… well, to express the other, I'd have to use some rather family-unfriendly language.

Nobody looks good when they’re crying for heaven’s sake, and what does that even matter?

Look, you insensitive jerks, that thing was clearly her only source of comfort for however long she’s been here. I’d be really, really upset too if someone shot my pet. Good grief.

And everyone’s just so patronising towards her, ignoring all her requests not to do anything to jeopardise her rescue as if she’s just being a silly little girl.

She’s understandably very upset about all this, coming to the point of outright rejecting all their help. I just want to give her a hug, and stick up for her.

Ian and Barbara leave, but the Doctor beckons Vicki over, turning on full kindly grandfather mode. Looks like we’ve found a replacement Susan. That was fast.

He basically just tells her everything they’ve been telling her for the last few minutes, only now he’s doing it with every ounce of grandfatherly twinkle he can muster. And this time it works. For some reason.

She tells him that once the rescue comes, Bennett’s going to tell everyone on Earth that Dido should be wiped out, so Koquillion doesn’t get away with what he’s done.

We have a word for that, Bennett.

The Doctor says he’ll have a talk with Bennett (and hopefully knock some sense into him), so Vicki leads him through the wreckage of the ship. He tells her to go back and wait with Ian and Barbara while he talks. Vicki is not too eager to spend time with Barbara, but the Doctor tells her to give Barbara a chance. She’s nice.

Yes, Doctor, she is nice. I like Barbara. And I know she really didn’t mean any harm. I know that she genuinely thought she was rescuing Vicki. However, that doesn’t actually change the fact that she killed Vicki’s pet lobster-scorpion very painfully while Vicki screamed for her to stop.

The Doctor does explain all this to her, but really I do think Vicki is fully entitled to be upset with Barbara, and it doesn’t feel fair to be treating her as the unreasonable one.

Bennett responds to the Doctor’s knocking with a refusal to let him in, so being a reasonable person, the Doctor starts trying to break the door down.

Vicki returns to the other room, and Ian and Barbara come back in a little sheepishly.

Vicki apologises to Barbara for being upset with her, and Barbara apologises too, for shooting her pet in the face.

Can you tell that I’m ever so slightly taking Vicki’s side here?

Ian reassures her that he and Barbara do understand her loneliness. When they ask her when she left Earth, she tells them she left with her father after the death of her mother in 2493. Then they tell her that they’re from 1963. She’s astonished, as that makes them about 550 years old.

I’m sure they’re very flattered that she thinks the two of them are around 20.

But they explain that the Doctor is a time-traveller. She doesn’t know whether to believe it. Well, Vicki, it depends on what sounds more likely: that they have a fantastic skincare regimen and a penchant for vintage fashion, or got into a magic blue box.

The Doctor manages to break into Bennett’s quarters, finding them empty. Then who said he couldn’t come in? A tape recording.

Oh , and what’s more, there’s an intercom system allowing him to hear what’s going on in the other room. Vicki is criticising his fashion sense. To be fair, Doctor, you do dress as if Edward’s on the throne. One of them, anyway.

Then he finds a trap door…

Ian wonders where the Doctor’s got to, and goes to investigate. Hearing no response, he enters the cabin. However, the Doctor shut the trap door behind him, leaving the others none the wiser. Seriously Doc, why? Couldn’t you have left a note, in case you got hurt and were in need of rescue?

The Doctor explores the hidden passage, arriving at something resembling a temple. He hears Koquillion coming, and cool as a cucumber, invites him in for a chat.

The set for this room is impressively big and well-dressed, and there's lots of atmospheric mist around. The curious thing is that it doesn't actually seem abandoned, with everything well-kept and lit. The music also pulls its weight in creating a solemn, somewhat ominous atmosphere.

The Doctor comments that this used to be the people’s hall of judgement, which is fitting considering the circumstances, and asks Bennett if he’s aware that the robes and mask he’s wearing are only used on ceremonial occasions.

I admit I was genuinely surprised. I had assumed that the scary mess of claws was simply what the people of this world looked like. After all, the costume is about the same quality as the other alien costumes we've seen on this series. Perhaps even a little better.

I have to hand it to Whitaker: that was a genuinely clever move, counting on the audience's suspension of disbelief with the alien costume, then pulling the rug out from under us.

So, Bennett’s got quite a lot of explaining to do. Which he does, with a great deal of self-satisfaction. He explains that this whole ruse was to save his life. He killed a crew member on the spaceship, and was arrested, but the ship crashed before the crime could be reported back to Earth. He realised if he dealt with the other crew, he could avoid the consequences of his actions.

When the people invited the shipwrecked crew to a meeting, he arranged the explosion, killing both the inhabitants and crew. Remember how the Doctor said there were only a few hundred native inhabitants? Bennett wiped them out. A whole people.

The claws and the lobster-scorpion distracted us all from the only real monster in this episode.

He concocted the ruse so that Vicki would support his story when he got back to Earth. Now it's time to clean up the mess. The Doctor and Bennett fight, with Bennett getting the upper hand. Just when all hope seems lost for the Doctor, a pair of strange men turn up, and they don't look at all pleased with Bennett.

Cornered, Bennett releases the Doctor and cowers away, shuffling all the way to a familiar door as the men advance. He's so busy trying to avoid them that he doesn't pay attention to where he's going… and falls right into the chasm. Bye, Bennett. You will not be missed.

The Doctor wakes up back in the TARDIS, his friends having found him outside the cave. Who were the mysterious men who came to his rescue? Nobody seems to know.

The Doctor speaks with Vicki, who is despondent, now having absolutely nobody in the world. No friends, and no family. No ties to home. The Doctor, realising this, and considering his own loneliness, offers to take her with him in the TARDIS. They can go anywhere at all, and if she likes adventure, she’ll be sure to find it.

Well, you’ve sold me.

Vicki agrees, and gets her own ‘it’s bigger on the inside!’ moment.

Back at the downed ship, the rescue craft is attempting to get in contact, when the mysterious men from earlier turn up and destroy the communications equipment. It seems that a few of the native people survived Bennett’s butchery, and that they’d rather not have any more visitors for the time being.

Can you blame them?

Back in the TARDIS, the Doctor has just made a safe landing… at the very edge of a cliff.

The others protest and tell him to move the wobbling ship, but before he can do so, it topples right over the edge.

Honestly. Parking is really not that difficult. Does this man even have a licence?

Final Thoughts

Well, here we are. How did I find The Rescue? Fairly unremarkable.

If I must, I will scrounge up a handful more words: it was mildly engaging, though it doesn't help that the most engaging part was the one I got most frustrated at. However, it is much, much better than The Edge Of Destruction.

We're welcoming a new companion aboard the TARDIS, in the form of Vicki, played by Maureen O'Brien. I quite like Vicki. She seems nice, and has a sweet and gentle nature. I do hope, however, that she does develop more defining characteristics than ‘sweet, kind and gentle’, because we don’t just want a replacement Susan, we want a fresh new character. Is she fresh? I really can’t tell yet.

I would certainly be grateful for less screaming at anything that looks scary.

In a way, I am glad for the general ‘okay’ness of The Rescue, and the brevity– I think we all needed a bit of a breather after the last. Still, I think we’re ready for something a bit meatier. Until next time!

3 out of 5 stars

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Science / Space Race

[January 8, 1965] The Skylark of Space (Britain's Skylark Sounding Rocket)

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by Kaye Dee

Hopefully Doc Smith will forgive me for borrowing the title of his famous story for my article, but I couldn’t resist because it fits so well. Since I began writing here, I’ve been wanting to talk about the Skylark sounding rocket, the first British rocket capable of reaching space (whether you go by the US Air Force and NASA definition of space beginning at 50 miles, or accept the Federation Aeronautique Internationale definition, based on the work of Theodore von Karman, of 100 kilometres/62 miles).


A different kind of Skylark reaching for the stars!

Hatching the Skylark

Sounding rockets, which can carry payloads into space, but do not have enough thrust to put them into orbit, are often neglected when discussing the Space Race. But they are perhaps more important (and certainly more often launched!) than satellites.

These suborbital rockets were still a relatively new technology a decade ago, and even by the end of the International Geophysical Year (IGY) only a handful of countries (including Australia, I’m proud to say) had developed a national sounding rocket capability. First announced in 1955, the Skylark sounding rocket was developed for the IGY by the UK Ministry of Defence’s Royal Aircraft Establishment (RAE), in collaboration with the Royal Society’s Gassiot Committee, which focuses on meteorology and upper atmosphere research.


Diagram showing the original design for the Skylark rocket. The design has been evolving ever since, improving the capabilities of the vehicle

The new rocket was originally called the Gassiot High Altitude Vehicle, which is a bit of a mouthful, and the story is that, in 1956, one of the engineers working on the rocket’s design at the RAE decided that he would like to see it named “Skylark”. I don't know if he was a fan of Doc Smith's work, but a class of UK rocket motors is named after British birds, so that was more likely his inspiration for the name. In any case, he apparently put up a paper to his superiors suggesting that the rocket should be renamed to something that would simpler and more memorable for public relations and offered a list of alternatives, none of which were particularly appealing except, very deliberately, Skylark. The plan worked, and the name Skylark was approved for the rocket.

Flying to Australia

Sounding rockets, like test missiles, need a lot of empty land on which to fall back to Earth; Woomera was the obvious place for Britain’s new scientific rocket to be launched. Skylark components and payloads are made in the UK and then flown to Australia by transport planes. These include a special dedicated “explosives” transport plane that carries the rocket engines to Australia fully-loaded with their solid propellant. The rocket motors are delivered directly to Woomera, while the payload parts arrive at the Weapons Research Establishment’s (WRE) Salisbury facility, near Adelaide (see June entry), where they are assembled by WRE technicians and British payload specialists and then transported to Woomera to be fitted to the launch rocket.


A Skylark instrument bay and nosecone being tested in a workshop at the WRE's facility in Salisbury, South Australia

Because of its slow acceleration, the Skylark needs a very long launch rail to ensure its stability in flight and this massive tower dominates Range E at Woomera, where the sounding rocket launches take place. It’s 80 feet tall and weighs 35 tons, so transporting it to Australia was quite a task. Interestingly, because of steel shortages in Britain when the tower was being designed, it’s actually made out of war surplus Bailey bridge segments!


View of Range E at Woomera where sounding rockets are launched. The massive Skylark launch tower dwarfs everything around it. Australia's first sounding rocket, Long Tom, also used this launcher initially

Skylark Acsending


An unusual philatelic cover from Uncle Ernie's collection marking a Skylark launch in 1958 – and British nuclear tests at the Maralinga range, adjacent to Woomera

The first Skylark launch took place in February 1957, before the official start of the IGY in July that year, with the first three flights being performance-proving flights. On its fourth flight, in November 1957, the Skylark showed that it could reach the space environment, soaring to an altitude of 79.5 miles. This flight was also the first to carry a suite of scientific instruments provided by British universities, including two experiments that have since been flown on many Skylarks: a ‘grenade’ experiment and a ‘window’ experiment. In the grenade experiments, grenades are ejected from the rocket during its flight and the explosions detected on the ground by microphones and flash detectors. From these measurements, temperatures and wind velocities at different altitudes can be determined. In the ‘window’ experiment, strips of radar chaff (also known as ‘window’) made from aluminium are ejected into the atmosphere to be tracked by radar, which provides velocity measurements of upper atmosphere winds.


I love this timelapse photo of a Skylark night launch, taken in 1958. SL04, the first Skylark to reach space, was also launched at night, although it seems that no-one thought to take a picture of that historic launch!

Of course, since 1957, the number and range of scientific experiments being flown on Skylarks has steadily increased, helping to provide a new understanding of the conditions in the upper atmosphere and the fringes of space. When the first experiment releasing sodium vapour into the atmosphere to study atmospheric density and winds flew in late 1958, people in areas hundreds of miles from Woomera thought that the strange sight of a reddish-yellow cloud might be associated with Sputnik III, the massive Soviet satellite that was in orbit at the time!


Clouds over South Australia, taken from above by a Skylark rocket in 1962, as part of a meteorological experiment

Skylark Improving

The original design of the Skylark rocket used a single Raven solid rocket motor. To increase its altitude and payload carrying capacity, different variants of the Raven have been used, and in 1960 the Skylark became a two-stage launcher, with the use of a Cuckoo motor for an additional boost on some flights. There have also been experiments with a parachute system, to try to recover some instruments or photographic plates intact, but so far these have not been very successful.


A Skylark rocket enhanced with a Cuckoo boost motor soaring into the stratosphere

Until very recently all Skylark flights were unstabilised, but just last year there were two experimental flights using Sun sensors to provide stabilisation. The development of this technique will make the Skylark more suitable for taking astronomical observations at high altitude, above the thickness of the atmosphere, and I’ve heard that there are plans for small X-ray and Ultra-violet telescopes and other astronomy payloads to be flown on future launches.

A Century of Skylarks


The Research Vehicles Group and others involved with Skylark at Woomera celebrate the 100th Skylark launch

At the end of September the Skylark notched up its 100th flight, which is perhaps not surprising as the launch rate has been steadily increasing. There were 19 flights in both 1963 and 64, and this year looks as if it will be even busier. The WRE has a section that manages the Skylark launches – the Research Vehicles Group: because of the high rate of firings and the time it takes to prepare each rocket for launch, there are four Skylark launch teams within the Group, each one dedicated to a specific Skylark flight.


Technicians from a WRE Skylark launch team preparing a rocket for firing in 1961

1964 also saw another new step for the Skylark, with two launches taking place for the European Space Research Organisation (ESRO) at Italy’s Salto di Quirra Range on Sardinia. This range was established in 1956 under the management of Luigi Broglio, who I mentioned last month as the mastermind behind Italy’s first satellite (see December entry). This Range is providing facilities to ESRO until its own sounding rocket facility near Kiruna in Sweden is completed.

Skylark looks set to become the workhorse of the European sounding rocket program, just as it is for Britain. NASA has even launched Skylarks out of Woomera: as part of a co-operative Ultra-violet astronomy programme with Australia, four ‘NASA’ Skylarks were launched at Woomera in 1961

Skylark in Orbit

Skylark rockets have also played a role in Britain’s Ariel satellite programme, helping to test out instrumentation and experiments before they were included in the satellites. Like Canada , Britain launched its first satellite, Ariel 1, in 1962 (see September entry), with help from the United States, which provided the satellite body in which the British experiments were installed, as well as the launch. In March last year, Ariel 2 was launched for Britain by NASA. In advance of both these flights, so much of the equipment was checked out beforehand on Skylark flights that I’ve heard that some wit described the satellites as “Skylark in orbit”!

Ariel 1

Britain's Ariel 1 and 2 satellites are almost identical. The scientific instruments on both were tested out on Skylark flights before being launched into space

It's been exciting to watch the progress of the Skylark programme and I expect that this versatile sounding rocket will be operational for many years to come. Australia has it's own sounding rocket program that has been designed to complement the Skylark research in many ways. I'll have to devote an article to it in the not too distant future

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