Tag Archives: 1965

[November 22, 1965] Keep on Exploring (Explorer-29 and 30 and Venera-2 and 3)


by Kaye Dee

November has been a busy month in space exploration with two new missions in NASA’s ongoing series of Explorer scientific satellites, and two spacecraft bound for Venus, launched by the Soviet Union. Let's get stuck right in and see why 1965 continues to be an amazing year for the space race.

GEOS is Go!

NASA’s Explorer series keeps on producing fascinating new scientific missions that help us discover as much about the Earth as they do about space. November’s first Explorer satellite, designated Explorer 29, also goes by the name of Geodetic Earth Orbiting Satellite (GEOS)-1 or GEOS-A. It is the first successful active spacecraft in the United States’ National Geodetic Satellite Program, and more are expected to follow.


NASA illustration of GEOS-1/Explorer-29 in orbit

Geodesy is the science of accurately measuring and understanding Earth's geometric shape, its orientation in space and the shape and characteristics of its gravitational field. You could say that passive satellite geodesy began with Vanguard-1, back in 1958, when scientists used the perturbations in its orbit to determine that the Earth is actually slightly pear-shaped, not quite that round ball we see in science fiction movies (though you'd have to have really sharp eyes to notice the difference!)

Satellite geodesy has come a long way in seven years and GOES-1 is carrying a suite of instruments that are designed to operate simultaneously, so that the data from each can be combined to give a highly accurate location for a point on the surface of the Earth. These instruments include four optical beacons, laser reflectors, Doppler beacons, and a range and range rate transponder. GEOS-1 also carries a SECOR transponder, the same type as used by satellites in the US Army’s satellite geodesy program, so that it can also contribute to that program’s research.


This US Army SECOR satellite bears an interesting resemblance to the Naval Research Laboratory's SOLRAD-8, as well as sharing a transponder type with GEOS-1

The objective is to use the data from all of Explorer-29’s instruments to precisely locate a series of observation points (or geodetic control stations) in a three dimensional “Earth centre-of-mass” coordinate system within 10 m of accuracy. These precision locations will help to improve the accuracy of cartography, surveying, and satellite navigation using the TRANSIT satellites.

GEOS-1’s instruments will also help in defining the structure of the earth's irregular gravitational field and refining the locations and magnitudes of the large gravity anomalies that have so far been detected. The various instrument systems will be compared with each other to determine which is the most accurate and reliable.

Explorer-29/GEOS-1 was launched from Cape Canaveral on 6 November (US time), on the first flight of the new Delta E launcher. Powered by solar cells, GEOS-1 uses gravity-gradient stabilisation, a relatively new technique that was first successfully tested on satellite 1963-22A, launched in June 1963. GEOS-1’s range and range rate transponder is tracked by NASA’s STADAN (Space Tracking and Data Acquisition Network) stations, including Carnarvon in Western Australia and the newly-operational station (just last month) at Orroral Valley, near Australia’s capital, Canberra.


NASA's new STADAN tracking station near Canberra tracks scientific satellites including the Explorer series – whatever alternate names they are known by

Satellite for a Quiet Sun

Explorer-29 was followed just two weeks later by Explorer-30, which also goes by the names of SOLRAD-8 and Solar Explorer-A (SE-A). The SOLRAD (short for Solar Radiation) program began in 1960, with the aim of providing continuous coverage of the wavelengths of solar radiation that can't be observed from Earth's surface. SOLRAD is a project of the Naval Research Laboratory and grew out of its earlier Vanguard program. Most of the earlier SOLRAD satellites have been launched piggy-back with other satellites (which, rumour has it, were of a classified nature), but SOLRAD-8 is the first to be launched as part of NASA’s Explorer program.

SOLRAD-8 is part of International Quiet Sun Year program, which is studying the upper atmosphere and the space environment during the Solar minimum, the least energetic time in the Sun's 11 year activity cycle. The data gathered during this period can then be compared with information obtained during the International Geophysical Year, when the Sun was at its most active.


The Naval Research Laboratory's SOLRAD-8 will help us to better understand the differences in the space environment between periods of maximum and minimum solar activity

Launched on November 19 by a Scout X-4 rocket from NASA’s Wallops Island facility, SOLRAD-8 is composed of two 24-inch aluminium hemispheres, with an equatorial ‘belt’ carrying 14 X-ray and Ultra-violet photometers. The satellite weighs 125 pounds and is powered by six solar panels. SOLRAD-8 is the first satellite to use a new type of miniature gas thruster, firing ammonia, to stabilise itself with its spin axis perpendicular to the Sun. It transmits data back to Earth in real time, using a FM/AM telemetry system that is recorded at NASA’s STADAN network stations.

Will we Lift the Veil of Venus This Time?

Venus has proved to be a difficult planet to explore. Only one space probe so far, NASA’s Mariner-2 in 1962, arrived safely at the planet and returned data which indicated that Venus was molten hot, shattering all those tales of a ‘jungle Venus’ or a planet of island dotted oceans, like ERB’s Amtor. But this month, the Soviet Union is making another attempt to visit our mysterious ‘sister’ planet and pierce its veil of clouds.


Official pictures released by the Soviet Union showing Venera-2 (top) and Venera-3 (below). The slight difference between the design of the two space probes is a hint that they might have different missions when they arrive at Venus

Not one, but two spacecraft are on their way to Venus: Venera-2, launched 12 November, was quickly – and much to the West’s surprise – followed only four days later by Venera-3. Both spacecraft were launched from the USSR’s Baikonur Cosmodrome and seem to be safely on their way. It is assumed that the Soviet Union has launched a pair of space probes so that, as with NASA’s Mariner-3 and 4, if one fails the other might still succeed in sending back data to Earth. However, TASS has said that the two probes have slightly different equipment, so some of my colleagues at the WRE have suggested that perhaps the Russians are trying something bolder with this twin mission: maybe one probe will perform a flyby past Venus and the other will either try to go into orbit – or maybe even impact on the planet’s surface. That would be a really exciting achievement: I can’t wait to learn what exciting information these spacecraft will send back to earth in a few months’ time!






[November 20, 1965] A fine cup of coffee (December 1965 Fantasy and Science Fiction)


by Gideon Marcus

The Peak of Flavor

I mentioned in my review of last month's issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction that that venerable veteran of the genre had finally returned to form under the guidance of editor Joe Ferman.  I'm happy to announce that this doesn't seem to be a fluke.  Indeed, reading the current issue was such a delight that it proved difficult to confine myself to just one story a day.

Yet that's what I did, in large part because each story was strong enough to leave a lasting impression, and like with of a good cup of coffee, sometimes you want to savor the flavor after each sip.

So come along with me on a tour of the December 1965 Fantasy and Science Fiction, at the end of which, I suspect you'll do your best Tony Randall impression of a DJ, smack your lips, and exclaim, "That's good coffee."

An Overflowing Cup


by Bert Tanner (illustrating Jack Vance's The Overworld)

Breakthrough Gang, by Gordon R. Dickson

Breakthrough Gangship Four, crewed by a small clutch of psionic women and men, is Earth's hole card in an interstellar war against the rapacious Kinsu. If they can stall the retreat of the alien armada long enough for the bulk of the Terran fleet to arrive, the haughty race will have to recognize human superiority and call off the struggle.

But on the eve of activating their ship's secret weapon, tactitian Dave Larson hesitates, certain that though they may win the battle, doing so spells doom for the human race.  Worse yet, this catastrophe seems to have been ordained from an event preceding contact with the Kinsu, perhaps even from a point in human prehistory!

And this inevitability has nothing to do with the Kinsu or human races, but chessmasters far older than either…

There are some parallels between this story and Bova's Stars, won't you hide me? in the January 1966 Worlds of Tomorrow, though not in a more than coincidental way.  If you read them side by side, you'll understand what I mean.

I wavered between awarding three and four stars to this piece, ultimately settling on three.  There's a lot of neat concepts in here, and the story makes you think, but the middle third is repetitive and the last third a bit too dependent on "as you know" exposition. 

In coffee terms, the aroma is pleasant if unsubtle.  But in the end, the value's in the drinking.  Let's dive in for our first sip, shall we?


by Gahan Wilson

O'Grady's Girl, by Leo P. Kelley

At the sunset of her life, an old teacher and her pupil meet Mr. Death and his retinue — and it's most unlike any characterization of the Grim Reaper I've ever seen.

A quintessentially F&SF-ian tale, it's delicious and full-bodied, just lovely.  Five stars.

The Convenient Monster, by Leslie Charteris

Stories of The Saint don't often veer into the realm of the supernatural. This one starts with a sheep and dog that seem to have been prey for the Loch Ness Monster, and Charteris builds it slowly and inexorably to a murder plot that may or may not involve Old Nessie.

Come for the Scottish scenery, stay for the striking denouement.  This java's got bite.

Four stars.

The Firmin Child, by Richard H. Blum

In this first story ever produced by the author's pen, an unhappy and somewhat dysfunctional couple right out of the 1958 sleeper, No Down Payment, find themselves not up to the task of raising a precocious but increasingly erratic, child.  At first, it seems the boy may be a high functioning autist, but we come to realize that his strange behaviors, almost a channeling of other's emotions, derive from something more bizarre.

Some blends of coffee have a bitter undertone.  I give Blum four stars for creating a vivid work, but I can't say I enjoyed the aftertaste…

Water, Water, Everywhere, by Isaac Asimov

What's bigger: The Dead Sea or The Great Salt Lake?  Is the Caspian Sea really a sea?  How many oceans are there in the world?  These and dozens of other hydrographical brain teasers come free in your latest issue of F&SF, courtesy of Dr. Isaac Asimov!

I kid, but geography's a science, too, and one of my favorites.  Four stars.

Minor Alteration, by John Thomas Richards

Walter Bird is plagued by nightly dreams in which he is John Wilkes Booth, and each day/night brings him 24 hours closer to his date with history at the Ford Theater.  Can he prevent tragedy?  Should he?

Richards' tale apparently sat in a drawyer at F&SF HQ for several years before finally being printed.  It doesn't cover much new ground, and the alternate universe it explores is rather implausible.  I can see why the piece languished.

Still, even if it's the weakest tea…er….coffee in the cup, it's not bad.  Three stars.

The Overworld, by Jack Vance

And now we come to the very last swallow.  Will it satisfy or leave us wanting? 

Worry not.  One can always count on Jack Vance for an unusual and interesting tale, and he doesn't disappoint now.  Instead, he offers up the first of the tales of Cugel the Clever, a (literally) lowbrow peddler of fake charms in a magical world.  Cugel is reduced to thievery when his wares don't sell, but he is quickly caught in the act by the powerful Ioucunu the Laughing Magician.  Thenceforth, he is dispatched on a mission for the angered mage, to find a particular violet lens in the far land of Cutz.

If Fritz Leiber's and Robert Howard's creations had mated, this new world of Vance's might have been the result.  Delightfully overwrought but always readable, I look forward to the promised next four stories in the series.

Four stars.

Good to the Last Drop

Do we really have a four star mug of F&SF steaming before us?  I do believe so!  It's been a long time since Mercury Press' science fiction mag delighted me so, but I can't say I'm sorry it happened.

So why don't you cap off your science fiction buffet this month with a delicious helping of F&SF?  Smooth, rich, goes down easy.  Good to the last drop.



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[November 18, 1965] Humour, Heroes and History: The Comics of France, Belgium and the Netherlands


by Cora Buhlert

Winter is coming

Winter 1965
Winter has come to Germany
Winter 1965
A truck frees a tram stuck in the snow in Berlin.

Germany is experiencing an uncommonly early winter and the entire country is currently buried under a blanket of snow. Time to settle down by the fireplace and listen to records such as Neue Songs der Welt by Israeli folk duo Esther and Abi Ofarim, which currently sits at the top of the West German long-play charts.

Neue Songs der Welt

Winter is also the ideal time to read. Which brings me back to my last article, wherein I introduced you to the comics of East and West Germany. In this article now, I pay a visit to the comics of France, Belgium, and the Netherlands.

The Ninth Art

Place De Brouckère
Place De Brouckère in Brussels, Belgium

The comics heart of Europe undoubtedly beats in France and Belgium. For here, comics are considered not disposable entertainment for kids, but a genuine art form. Belgian comics artist Maurice De Bevere, better known as Morris, referred to comics as "the ninth art".

Maurice de Bevere a.k.a. Morris
Maurice de Bevere a.k.a. Morris, creator of Lucky Luke

US comic books only focus on a single character or group. The French-Belgian industry is different, since it focusses on anthology magazines, which contain several different serialised comic strips. The most popular comics are later collected in books known as albums.

Three comic magazines dominate the French-Belgian-Dutch market. The Belgian magazines Spirou (Robbedoes in Flemish) and Tintin (Kuifje in Flemish) and the French magazine Pilote. All three have their own distinct style and voice.

Belgium is a multilingual country. The northern part speaks Flemish (a variation of Dutch), the southern part speaks French and a small area near the German border speaks German. As a result, Belgian comic magazines routinely appear in both French and Flemish. And since Flemish and Dutch are so similar, the Netherlands regularly get the Flemish versions of Belgian magazines. Therefore, France, Belgium and the Netherlands largely read the same comics.

Antwerpen 1960s
De Meir, main shopping street of Antwerp, Belgium
Leysstraat Antwerpen
The Leysstraat in Antwerp, Belgium

Several Franco-Belgian comics have been translated into German. However, since I live only one and a half hours from the Dutch border and about three hours from the Belgian, I frequently pick up comics that haven't yet been translated there.

Humour, dynamic art and big noses: Spirou

Spirou Magazine

Of the three Franco-Belgian comic magazines, Spirou is the oldest, dating back to 1938. Though Spirou also publishes comics with more realistic art, it specialises in zany humour and a dynamic, cartoony art style that has been dubbed the "Marcinelle school", named after the Belgian town of Marcinelle, where the magazine has its headquarters.

The title character has a tangled history. Created by French cartoonist Robert Velter a.k.a. Rob-Vel, Spirou originally was an elevator operator at a luxury hotel. After Rob-Vel joined the Belgian army and was wounded in World War II, the series went through several hands, until the young Belgian cartoonist André Franquin took over in 1947 and made the strip his own. The character Spirou acquired a pet squirrel named Spip and a best friend in the reporter Fantasio. Spirou eventually changed careers and became a reporter as well, though he continues to wear his red bellhop uniform. Together, Spirou and Fantasio travel the world and have many adventures. They also adopted a strange jungle creature known as the Marsupilami.

Spirou et Fantasio
Spirou and Fantasio meet the Marsupilami

In 1957, a young man named Gaston Lagaffe (literally Gaston the blunder) wandered into the office of the newspaper for which Spirou and Fantasio work. Even though Gaston is terminally lazy and fails at pretty much everything, he was hired as an office boy. Gaston initially appeared as a supporting character in Spirou and Fantasio, but eventually got his own gag strip and became one of the most popular characters in the magazine, though he mostly does nothing at all.

Gaston

However, the most popular comic published in Spirou is undoubtedly Lucky Luke. A cowboy in the Old West who is known as the man who shoots faster than his shadow, Lucky Luke doesn't shoot to kill, but only to disarm his foes. His constant companions are Jolly Jumper, the smartest horse in the world, and Rantanplan (a parody of heroic film dog Rin Tin Tin), the stupidest dog in the universe. In his adventures, Lucky Luke meets many real life historical figures. His sworn enemies are the Dalton Brothers, bandits and cousins of the historical Dalton Gang. No matter how many times Lucky Luke sends the Daltons to prison, they escape again and again. Created by the above mentioned Maurice de Bevere a.k.a. Morris in 1946, Lucky Luke is very much a parody of American westerns. Spirou also publishes the serious western comic Jerry Spring, written and drawn by Spirou editor-in-chief Joseph Gillain a.k.a. Jijé, but the humorous western adventures of Lucky Luke are a lot more popular.

Lucky Luke
Rantanplan tries to sniff out the Daltons, while Lucky Luke and Jolly Jumper look on
Lucky Luke
Lucky Luke spanks Billy the Kid

Another hugely popular series that originated in the pages of Spirou are Les Schtroumpfs a.k.a De Smurfen in Flemish a.k.a. Die Schlümpfe in German. These small blue gnomes were created by Belgian cartoonist Pierre Gulliford a.k.a. Peyo and initially appeared as supporting characters in Peyo's comic Johan et Pirlouit about the adventures of the medieval squire Johan and his diminutive friend Pirlouit (Pirrewiet in Flemish) in 1958. The little blue gnomes, who live in a village of mushroom shaped houses in the forest and tangle with the evil wizard Gargamel and his cat Azrael, quickly became popular and got their own comic in 1959. Just this year, the German toy company Schleich began producing collectible Smurf figurines.

Johan et Pirlouit
Johan and Pirlouit before they met the Smurfs.

The Smurfs

Smurf toys
A collection of toy Smurfs

Other popular comics to appear in Spirou include the realistic aviation strip Buck Danny by Jean-Michel Charlier and Victor Hubinon, the detective strip Gil Jourdan by Maurice Tillieux and Boule et Bill, the story of a young boy and his dog by Jean Roba and Maurice Rosy.

Buck Danny
Aviation hero Buck Danny
Gil Jourdan
A gothic adventure for detective hero Gil Jourdan

Clear lines and great adventures: Tintin

Tintin, the other big Belgian comics magazine, was founded in 1946, though its flagship series has a much longer history. For the intrepid young reporter Tintin and his dog Milou first appeared in the newspaper Le Petit Vingtième in 1929. Created by Belgian artist Georges Remi a.k.a. Hergé and drawn in the so-called ligne claire (clear line) style, Tintin and Milou travelled the world in search of adventure and acquired a sizeable supporting cast, including Captain Haddock, a hard-drinking and swearing sailor, Professor Tournesol, an absentminded genius, Dupont and Dupond, a pair of identical looking and not very competent police detectives, and opera singer Bianca Castafiore, who has taken a shine to Captain Haddock.

Tintin Temple of the Sun
Tintin visits the Temple of the Sun.

World War II paper shortages eventually put an end to Tintin's newspaper career, but in 1946 the intrepid young reporter returned for new adventures in glorious colour in the pages of the newly founded Tintin magazines. Though his adventures are mostly set in the real world, Tintin does venture into fantasy and science fiction on occasion, including a remarkably realistically rendered trip to the moon in 1950.

Tintin on the moon
Tintin on the Moon

Suske en Wiske (Bob et Bobette in French), another popular strip in Tintin magazine, also predates the founding of the magazine. Created by Flemish cartoonist Willy Vandersteen and drawn in the ligne claire style, the two mischievous children Suske and Wiske and their Aunt Sidonie first appeared in a daily comic strip in the Belgian newspaper De Standaard in 1945 and moved to Tintin magazine in 1948. Suske and Wiske quickly acquired a supporting cast consisting of the brilliant inventor Professor Barabas, the strongman Jerome and Lambik, part-time detective, part-time plumber and full-time comic relief. Initially, the adventures of Suske and Wiske were largely realistic, but fantasy and science fiction elements soon appeared. And because the inventions of Professor Barabas include a time machine, Suske, Wiske and their friends also frequently go on adventures throughout history.

Suske en Wiske
Suske and Wiske attempt to rescue Wiske's beloved ragdoll from being burned at the stake.
Suske and Wiske
Suske and Wiske and Lambik in space
Suske en Wiske
Lambik goes James Bond, while Aunt Sidonie dances with a chimp.

Suske and Wiske are hugely popular in Flanders and the Netherlands. The enterprising Willy Vandersteen also created several comic series for other publishers such as De Rode Ridder (The Red Knight), a medieval adventure series which first appeared in 1959 and Bessy, the adventures of a heroic dog in the Old West, which first appeared in 1952.

De Rode Ridder
The Red Knight visits Atlantis
Blake and Mortimer
Blake and Mortimer visit Atlantis

Blake and Mortimer by Belgian artist and writer Edgar P. Jacobs debuted in Tintin magazine in 1946. Professor Philip Mortimer, a brilliant Scottish physicist, and his best friend and protector Captain Francis Blake, a Welsh MI5 officer, have many adventures and tangle with their sworn enemy Colonel Olrik. Both Blake and Mortimer were modelled after friends of Edgar P. Jacobs, while the villain Olrik is a self-portrait of the artist. Though nominally a spy series, Blake and Mortimer's adventures often takes them into the realm of science fiction. Among other things, Blake and Mortimer have visited Atlantis, travelled through time and thwarted an attempt to destroy the Earth via guided meteorites. The series is a true delight for science fiction fans.

Blake and Mortimer
Blake and Mortimer tackle the Yellow Mark.
Blake and Mortimer
Blake and Mortimer have dinosaur trouble

Another strip which has appeared in Tintin since the beginning is Corentin by Belgian artist Paul Cuvelier. The titular character is a Breton orphan who runs away to sea and is shipwrecked. A mix of Tarzan and Robinson Crusoe, Corentin has adventures all over the world with a group of human and animal friends and occasionally ventures into the realms of fantasy as well. Cuvelier started out as a fine artist and Corentin is one of the most beautifully drawn Belgian comics.

Corentin

Alix, the adventures of a young Gaul slave adopted into Roman nobility around the time of Julius Caesar, was created by Jacques Martin and debuted in Tintin in 1948. Other comics to appear in Tintin magazine are Michael Vaillant, the adventures of a formula one driver created in 1957 by Jean Graton, and Ric Hochet, yet another heroic reporter created by cartoonist Gilbert Gascard a.k.a. Tibet and mystery writer André-Paul Duchâteau in 1955.

Alix
Alix the Intrepid
Alix La Griffe Noire
Alix fights the Black Claw
Michel Vaillant
Michel Vaillant on the racecourse of fear
Ric Hochet
Reporter Ric Hochet on the run.

Adventures for an older audience: Pilote

Pilote
The Pirate Barbe-Rouge on the cover of Pilote

Spirou and Tintin are aimed at children (which explains why there are so few female characters, because Belgian youth protection laws forbid even the slightest hint of sex), though many adults read and enjoy them, too. Meanwhile, the French upstart Pilote was aimed at an older audience from its start in 1959 on.

Pilote's most popular strip is undoubtedly Astérix, which premiered in the first issue of the magazine, written by Lucky Luke co-writer René Goscinny and illustrated by Albert Uderzo. The titular character is a Gaul warrior living in a small Breton village, which is resisting Roman occupation during the time of Julius Caesar. Loosely based on historical Gaul chieftain and French national hero Vercingetorix, Astérix is short but shrewd. His best friend Obelix is big, strong and not very smart. Obelix carries around menhir, which he likes to hurl at Romans, and has a dog named Idefix. Astérix and Obelix always remind me of Fritz Leiber's Fafhrd and Gray Mouser, though I have no idea if Goscinny and Uderzo are familiar with that series. Together, Astérix, Obelix and the rest of their village run rings around the Roman would-be occupiers, also thanks to a superstrength potion developed by the village druid Panoramix. But Astérix and Obelix are not content to remain in Gaul. Instead, they have adventures all around the Roman empire. They just visited Egypt and met Cleopatra, who looks remarkably like Elizabeth Taylor in the recent movie.

Astérix
Astérix the Gaul and his friend Obelix

Whereas the above mentioned Alix treats the subject of the Roman occupation of Gaul seriously and shows its hero as torn between his Gaul and Roman identity, Astérix uses the same historical material for comedy and satire. The series is full of puns and allusions to contemporary French politics. It's also hilarious – at least in the original French. For the German translation, publisher Rolf Kauka renamed the heroes Siggi and Babarras and replaced the allusions to contemporary French politics with allusions to contemporary West German politics. Unfortunately, the Kauka translations are not at all funny and also managed to slip in antisemitic stereotypes, which did not appear in the original. René Goscinny was not at all amused and withdrew the translation license from Kauka, which led to a lawsuit that is still ongoing. I sincerely hope that Astérix will eventually get the German translation it deserves.

Asterix and Obelix and Cleopatra
Astérix and Obelix meet Cleopatra

The other breakout comic to debut in Pilote is the western comic Blueberry, created by the Belgian writer Jean-Michel Charlier and the young French artist Jean Giraud, who occasionally also goes by Moebius. The comic initially appeared as Fort Navajo in 1963, but the unlikely named US Cavalry Lieutenant Mike Steve Blueberry became so popular that he took over the comic. Unlike the clean-cut heroes of other western comics, Blueberry is rough and unshaven, more reminiscent of Clint Eastwood in the recent Italian western Per un pugno di dollari than of John Wayne. Blueberry cares deeply about justice and abhors racism, whether it's aimed at Blacks or Native Americans. The comic would be good either way, but it's Jean Giraud's brilliant art which turns it into something truly special.

Fort Navajo
Fort Navajo, the first adventure of Lieutenant Blueberry

Other comics to appear in Pilote include the pirate adventure Barbe-Rouge by Jean-Michel Charlier and Victor Huginon, which debuted in 1959, the aviation series Tanguy et Laverdure by Jean-Michael Charlier and Albert Uderzo, which also debuted in 1959, and the gag strip Achille Talon, created by Michel Regnier a.k.a. Greg in 1963.

Barbe Rouge

Tanguy et Laverdure

Achille Talon

Going Dutch

The Dutch mostly read the Flemish editions of Franco-Belgian comics. However, they also have some titles of their own. One feature that's unique to Dutch comics is that they have no speech bubbles, only captions.

Eric de Noorman
The typical Dutch comic format, here seen in a page of Eric de Noorman.

One of the most popular Dutch comics is Eric de Noorman (Eric the Norseman) about the adventures of a Viking warrior and his family. Created in 1946 by Hans G. Kresse, Eric de Noorman first appeared in the newspaper Het Laatste Nieuws. The strip was picked up by other newspapers and also published in the oblong piccolo format from 1948 on.

Eric de Noorman
Hans G. Kresse's artwork for Eric de Noorman

Another popular Dutch comic strip is Paulus de boskabouter (Paulus the Woodgnome). Created by Jan van Oort a.k.a. Jean Dulieu in 1946, the adventures of Paulus and his animal friends first appeared in the newspaper Het Vrije Volk and also spawned a series of popular radio dramas.

Paulus the Woodgnome
The adventures of Paulus the Woodgnome

Kapitein Rob is a fascinating mix of sea adventure and science fiction, because De Vrijheid (Freedom), the sailing ship helmed by the titular captain, can also travel through time as well as space. The strip was created by writer Evert Werkman and artist Pieter Kuhn and debuted in 1945 in the newspaper Het Parool.

Kapitein Rob
A science fictional adventure for Kapitein Rob

However, the most highly regarded comic in the Netherlands is a funny animal comic named Tom Poes (Tom Cat). The adventures of the anthropomorphic cat Tom Poes and his best friend, the aristocratic bear Olivier B. Bommel, first appeared in the newspaper De Telegraaf in 1941. Tom Poes started out as a children's comic, but quickly became popular among adults due to the satirical allusions and idiosyncratic language use of its creator Marten Toonder. Like Erika Fuchs, the brilliant German translator of the Donald Duck comics, many of the expressions and neologisms Marten Toonder introduced in Tom Poes have become part of the Dutch language.

Tom Poes

Tom Poes Weekblad
Tom Poes Weekly

The erotic space adventures of Barbarella

Delightful as the French-Belgian-Dutch comics are, female characters are sadly rare in those strips and female main characters are even rarer. However, there is one exception and it's even a science fiction comic.

Created by Jean-Claude Forest, Barbarella first appeared in the French periodical V Magazine in 1962. The protagonist is a young female space explorer who happens to be a dead ringer for French movie star Brigitte Bardot. Barbarella travels from planet to planet, meets various aliens with whom she engages in rather intimate first contact. Barbarella also loses her clothes a lot.

Barbarella
Barbarella on the cover of her scandalous first album.
Barbarella
Barbarella with her clothes on for once.

As long as the strip appeared only in V Magazine, which is similar to Playboy in the US, no one minded. But when the album was released last year, it caused a minor scandal and was banned as pornographic, which only served to make Barbarella even more popular.

Jean-Claude Forest
Jean-Claude Forest also illustrates covers for French science fiction magazines.

Hard as it may be to imagine, this article only offers a brief glimpse into the wide and wonderful world of Franco-Belgian-Dutch comics. Many of these comics are not yet accessible to English speaking readers, but I hope that will change eventually.

Place de Brouckère by night
Place de Brouckère in Brussels by night.





[November 14, 1965] A Teenage Dream (The Mating Game)


by Lorelei Marcus

With the announcement of TV game show Password's hiatus, so were my glimpses of my favorite actor in his best form put on hold.  Left with only the occasional episodes of What's My Line where I could hope to expect maybe two minutes of his handsome face on my screen, and the schlock reruns of his stardom in the 50's that even the projectionists didn't care to watch, my chances of seeing my crush seemed bleak and scarce.

Last Sunday was a cold, dreary day that I'd spent staring at my signed photograph of Tony Randall, contemplating my dark fate, when hope burst through my door.  Hope in the form of my father and a cramped drive-in schedule that included, wedged into the afternoon slot, a movie starring the object of my dreams.

Never have I gotten into a car so fast.

The Mating Game

I went in with low expectations.  The horrid experiences of The Brass Bottle and Fluffy only furthered the trend of Randall's name in the credits being a bad omen for the quality of the movie.  That's why it was such a pleasant surprise when the film opened on a sprawling "Maryland" landscape, settling in on the hustle and bustle of the Larkin family farm.  Pa Larkin (Paul Douglas) and his children are introduced trying to sneak their neighbor's boar onto their truck after "borrowing" it for stud services.  The farm is cluttered with knicknacks, appliances, and an abundance of farm animals, all fundamental parts of Pa's "trading" business, with which he earns his living.


Paradise.

An aspiring self-sufficient homesteader myself, I liked this setup quite a bit. 

Of course, conflict quickly arises when Pa tries to return the boar to Mr. Burnshaw, who's a longtime enemy of the Larkin family.  Finally fed up with their antics, Burnshaw calls up the Internal Revenue Service and demands an income tax investigation.  It turns out that the Larkins have never paid income tax, never even filed a return.  A federal agent is assigned to the case.

Enter our leading man, Mr. Tony Randall, himself.  Luckily, contained as I was in our car, I was able to squeal to my utmost ability, only to the detriment of my father's hearing.

Randall, as the improbably named "Lorenzo Charlton", fares about as well on the assignment as you might expect any respectable government worker trying to apply law and order to an old fashioned farm.  That is to say utter chaos ensues as the whole Larkin family takes every opportunity to make Charlton feel at home when all he wants to do is get the job done.

Worse still for his work is Pa's beautiful, fun-loving daugher, Mariette (Debbie Reynolds) who takes an aggressive liking to Charlton.  (If there were ever an accurate representation of the Young Traveler on the silver screen, tomboyish, hellraising, Tony-Randall loving Mariette is it!)


Love at first sight.


Lorenzo's heart starts to thaw on the set of Forbidden Planet.

All sorts of high jinks ensue, ranging from the theft of Charlton's motor by Pa's two boys (ostensibly to keep it from burning oil; in reality, to keep the taxman in the house long enough to fall for Mariette) to a scene featuring a very drunk Charlton dancing around in his underwear.  It's an absolute romping delight to witness.


Tony Randall in his underwear.  That's all I needed to know.

Unfortunately, the fun doesn't last, as unfriendly neighbor Burnshaw calls up Charlton's boss and demands to know why the Larkins haven't been completely ruined yet.  The future looks dim as Charlton's boss comes to the farm himself, threatens to fire Charlton if he doesn't leave, and then determines that the Larkins, in fact, owe Uncle Sam $50,000!

The newly budding love between Charlton and Mariette cut off a the root, the Larkin family property on the block…whatever shall our heroes do?


Lorenzo is sent on his way.


Mariette plans to take on the IRS single-handedly.

Well, to give it away, the movie has a happy ending.  And it comes in an unpaid Civil War era government contract worth considerably more than what the Larkins owe.  In an act of heroism, Charlton convinces no less a personage than the Treasury Department's Inspector General to go to the farm and make good on the debt. 


Charlton takes on the IRS single-fingeredly.

The Larkins are happy not to owe but resistant to the idea of being millionaires, or as Pa repeatedly says:

"We eat good, sleep good, feel good. What more do we need?"

Charlton makes the brilliant suggestion of allocating the government debt to the Larkins to cover any current and future tax obligation, to which the IG gladly agrees. 

Charlton (now universally called "Charlie") and Mariette run off to roll in the haybales together, and everyone lives happily ever after.

The Mating Game is an unexpected delight with a fun premise carried by fine acting.  Paul Douglas (in his last role) and Una Merkel have wonderful chemistry as Pa and Ma, warming every scene they're in.  Debbie Reynolds does an excellent job capturing the wild charm of a young farmgirl, especially when she's dashing up and down, being chased around the barn by suitors, or riding her horse over path and fence.  Even the child actors, all four of them, are good, adding just the right punch lines to already hysterical scenes.

And of course, as always, Tony Randall is superb.  His delivery is crisp, his growing exasperation appears genuine, and his "bad" inebriated dancing is still incredibly impressive.  It is such a relief that, for once, he was able to play a competent and likable character.  To the girls I overheard in the car next over saying that "they should have gotten a more handsome leading man," I ask, "ARE YOU BLIND?"  The fastidious but charming Charlton couldn't possibly have been played better by anyone else!

But in the end, I was bound to love this movie.  It is my dream set to celluloid: living on a farm with Tony Randall.  And though the story is quite silly at times, and the ending a little too good to be true, The Mating Game serves its purpose as a sweet escape from reality.  If the tumultuous year of 1965 has gotten to be too much for you, then I strongly advise (check local cinema and TV listings of course) a trip to green Maryland with Tony Randall on your arm.

Just be sure to give him back when you're done — I do have a big fat crush on him, after all.

Until then, this is the Young Traveler, signing off.






[November 12, 1965] Doldrumming (December 1965 Amazing)


by John Boston

Off Days

The December Amazing, boasting Cordwainer Smith, Murray Leinster, Edmond Hamilton, Robert Sheckley, and Chad Oliver, looks promising despite the hideous front cover by Hector Castellon.  Unfortunately, the unifying theme of the issue is Off Days of Big Names.


by Hector Castellon

But first, let’s survey the terrain.  The Smith and Leinster stories are new, and informed rumor has it they are the first purchases of the new editor after the exhaustion of Cele Lalli’s leavings.  They are long, so the three reprints make up a smaller proportion of the magazine than in the previous issue, less than half of the total page count.  Almost all the the issue’s contents are fiction.  The editorial is one page, as is the letter column, and that’s it: no article, no book reviews.

The editorial by Joseph Ross cocks a fairly vapid snook at outside critics of SF, most recent example being Kurt Vonnegut, who isn’t entirely outside, and the letter column—both the letters and the editor’s responses—are calculated to cheer on the magazine and celebrate the true pulp quill, with a sideswipe at the previous editor’s attempts at something a little more elevated.

Killer Ship (Part 2 of 2), by Murray Leinster

The longest item is the conclusion of Murray Leinster’s serial Killer Ship, which inhabits the subgenre of Reactionary Science Fiction.  This is not a political designation, but a description of stories that suggest—nay, insist—that the future will, conveniently for the lazy reader and writer, not be much different from the past.  This one began last issue with: “He came of a long line of ship-captains, which probably explains the whole matter.”


by Norman Nodel

There follows a genealogy of the protagonist Captain Trent’s space- and sea-faring ancestors back to the eighteenth century, followed by several paragraphs about the similarity between the dangers of space travel and those of eighteenth-century sea voyaging, complete with Trent’s ancestor sailing into port with the hanged bodies of pirates swinging from the yardarms.  There’s no indication of what Trent knows or how he has been influenced by these ancestors’ doings, so how his lineage “explains the whole matter” is a bit murky.

A couple of pages later, after it is disclosed that the ship-owners who have hired Captain Trent for a trading voyage in pirate-infested waters, er, space, would be just as happy if he gets pirated so they can collect the insurance: “It didn’t bother him.  He came of a long line of ship-captains, and others had accepted similar commands in their time.”

Six pages further on, when it appears Trent’s ship has spotted a lurking pirate: “The report of a reading on the drive-detector was equivalent to a bellowed ‘Sail ho!’ from a sailing brig’s crosstrees.  Trent’s painstaking use of signal-analysis instruments was equal to his ancestor’s going aloft to use his telescope on a minute speck at the horizon.  What might follow could continue to duplicate in utterly changed conditions what had happened in simpler times, in sailing-ship days.”

Later still: “The arrival of the Yarrow in port on Sira was not too much unlike the arrival of a much earlier Captain Trent at a seaport on Earth in the eighteenth century.” I will spare you the extensive elaboration.  And I can’t resist one more, towards the end as the Captain and his men are mustering for the final battle: “When they gathered, crowding, to get into the Yarrow’s spaceboats, the feel of things was curiously like a forgotten incident in the life of a Captain Trent of the late eighteenth century.” (Again, spare the details.) There is no suggestion that the current Captain Trent is in any way aware of this incident.  Hey, the author just said it’s forgotten!

At this point it is tempting to ask, Why bother?  Why not just swing by the library and pick up a stack of old C.S. Forester novels, and take your eighteenth century straight?

Another conspicuous feature is its pervasive verbosity.  Consider the following passage, right after the discovery that there’s another spaceship lying low very close.  Trent throws a switch that turns on the signal-analyzing instruments and goes to work.  Now:

“There was silence save for that small assortment of noises any ship makes while it is driving.  It means that the ship is going somewhere, hence that it will eventually arrive somewhere.  A ship in port with all operating devices cut off seems gruesomely dead.  Few spacemen will stay aboard-ship in a spaceport.  It is too still.  The silence is too oppressive.  They go aground and will do anything at all rather than loaf on a really silent ship.  But there were all sorts of tiny noises assuring that the Yarrow was alive.  The air apparatus hummed faintly.  The temperature-control made small, unrelated sounds.  Somewhere somebody off-watch had a tiny microtape player on, the Aldonian music too soft to be heard unless one listened especially for it.”

Next: “The signal-analyzer clicked.” Intermission over!  Story starts up again! 

And here’s another one, short but telling.  Captain Trent and the captain of a pirate-bashed ship whose crew Trent has rescued are about to travel from one ship to the other.  “The Yarrow’s bulk loomed up not forty feet away, but beneath and between the ships lay an unthinkable abyss.  Stars shown up from between their feet.  One could fall for millions of years and never cease to plummet through nothingness.” Then they snap on lines and are hauled across the 40 feet, sans plummeting or any actual risk or fear of it.

A little later (we’re up to page 29 of the October issue), there is a long description of the pirates repairing the damage to their ship that Captain Trent inflicted by ramming them.  This is actually a nice vivid word-picture.  But then:

“While this highly necessary work went on, the stars watched abstractedly.  They were not interested.  They were suns, with families of planets of their own; besides, some of them had comets and meteoric streams and asteroid belts to take up their attention.  There was nothing really novel in mere mechanical repair-work some thousands of millions of miles away from even the nearest of them.”

And it goes on, and on, appearing everywhere like water seeping up through the floorboards of a flooding house.  It’s enough to make a body wonder if paying by the word is really such a good policy.

Oh, yes, there is also a story here, fitfully visible through the padding and the constant eruptions of the eighteenth century.  Trent takes on a job carrying a cargo through pirate territory, partly to make some money and party because he hates pirates.  He has an encounter with some pirates, captures some of their crew, and rescues the boss’s daughter (boss meaning owner of the pirated spaceship, and also a planetary president).  She thinks he’s the cat’s meow for rescuing her, and he sort of likes her too, but duty calls.  Then everybody foolishly thinks it’s safe to travel again because Trent defeated this lot of pirates.  The boss’s daughter gets kidnapped by pirates again.  Trent cleverly figures out where she and the other hostages must be, goes there with his crew, confronts the pirates in their lair, rescues boss’s daughter again, wedding bells clearly to follow. 

There are some clever plot twists along the hackneyed way, as one would expect from a guy who’s been at this for well over four decades.  There are also characters, sort of.  Captain Trent is the strong laconic guy who may have inner turmoil but keeps it to himself.  Everybody else is essentially a cartoon, notably Trent’s crew, who play a big part in his success, and who are essentially a bunch of roughnecks the Captain has recruited from barroom brawls and who follow him because he’s a pretty good brawler too.  Finally, there is the definitive happy ending: “This novel will be published in the winter by Ace Books under the title ‘SPACE CAPTAIN.’

One star for both parts.  That’s the average of two stars for smooth professionalism, and zero stars for polished vacuity; life’s too short to waste time on this.

On the Sand Planet, by Cordwainer Smith

All right, Henry, wheel that one out and release it to the next of kin.  Who’s on the next slab?  Oh, Cordwainer Smith.  Sounds promising.  Except . . . 

On the Sand Planet seems to be the last in the Instrumentality series featuring one Casher O’Neill that began with On the Gem Planet and On the Storm Planet, with Three to a Given Star tangentially related.  They were all published in Galaxy, to considerable praise from the Traveler.  But . . . if the others appeared in Galaxy, what is this one doing here at the bottom of the market?  Unfortunately, suspicions confirmed.


by Jack Gaughan

Casher O’Neill has been on a mission to relieve his home planet Mizzer of the tyrant Wedder, and to that end has circuitously toured the galaxy and has obtained various superpowers, apparently courtesy of T’ruth, an Underperson derived from a turtle.  That’s all before this story opens.  Now, he’s landing on Mizzer again, walks into town and into Wedder’s citadel, and using his superpowers, rearranges Wedder’s head and portions of his supporting anatomy, turning him into a pussycat.  Metaphorically, I mean.  While he’s at it, Casher restores the intelligence of an idiot child. 

Now that Casher is done with his life’s work, he drops in on his mother, who has mixed feelings about him, and his daughter, who has her own life and would just as soon he went away.  So he decides to go to the Ninth Nile (this city Kazeer is at the confluence of a whole lot of Niles, it seems), though he is warned he will need iron shoes for the volcanic glass.

At the Ninth Nile, Casher meets D’alma, an elderly dog-underperson and an old acquaintance, who accompanies him, first to the gaudy City of Hopeless Hope, where everyone seems to be engaged in the practice of one religion or another, and D’alma warns that they are “the ones who are so sure that they are right that they never will be right.” Then, to the place of the Jwinds, “the perfect ones,” who destroy intruders who don’t meet their high standards.  But Casher, who contains multitudes in his enhanced cranium, is too much for them.  On to Mortoval, where a gatekeeper lets them pass when Casher again musters his superpowers to invoke “old multitudes of crying throngs.” The gatekeeper asks, “How can I cope with you?”

“ ‘Make us us,’ said Casher firmly.
“ ‘Make you you,’ replied the machine.  ‘Make you you.  How can I make you you when I do not know who you are, when you flit like ghosts and you confuse my computers?’ ”

On to Kermesse Dorgueil, where D’alma warns “here we may lose our way because this is the place where all the happy things of this world come together, but where the man and the two pieces of wood never filter through,” and a guy named Howard explains, “We live well here, and we have a nice life, not like those two places across the river that stay away from life,” and they make no claim to perfection. 

Here Casher encounters a woman, Celalta, who is dancing and singing, having resigned as a lady of the Instrumentality, and Casher recruits her as traveling companion by grabbing her wrist and not letting go.  Also he introduces himself by telepathy-dump, including “the two pieces of wood, the image of a man in pain,” and tells her it’s “the call of the First Forbidden One and the Second Forbidden One and the Third Forbidden One.” The Trinity, like you’ve never seen them (or it) before!  I guess.

Onward, past the Deep Dry Lake of the Damned Irene, resisting the temptation to lie down with the skeletons and die, to “the final source and the mystery, the Quel of the Thirteenth Nile,” where there are trees and caves, and fruits, melons, and grain growing, and evidence that other people used to live there, and also some surviving chickens running around.  Celalta declares, “We’re Adam and Eve in a way.  It’s not up to us to be given a god or to be given a faith.  It’s up to us to find the power, and this is the quietest and last of the searching places.” Et cetera.  Celalta says she’ll start the fire if O’Neill will go catch some chickens.

Well, this is pretty ridiculous.  It’s obviously some sort of religious allegory, reminding me a little of my ill-fated glancing encounter with The Pilgrim’s Progress, told in an often sonorous style but a plain vocabulary, like a negotiation between the King James Bible and Fun with Dick and Jane (that’s not a complaint).  But the point is a little elusive.  I get that at least one of the two is thinking about Adam and Eve, since she says it straight out.  But then what?  Mr. Smith owes us one more story in the series, catching up with Casher and Celalta and their inevitable children after ten years or so in isolation, living on feral chickens roasted in a cave.  But you know it won’t happen.

Two stars for this shaggy God epic.  As exasperating follies go, it’s at least readable and amusing.

The Comet Doom, by Edmond Hamilton

The reprints are an exceedingly mixed bag.  Surprisingly, the best is also the most archaic, Edmond Hamilton’s The Comet Doom, from the January 1928 Amazing.  There’s a big green comet passing by, and it turns out it’s inhabited by atomic-powered metal beings with tentacles who used to have organic bodies but gave them up.  These folks have about used up the comet’s resources and want to replenish their stores by carrying off a handy planet, ours to be precise.  In fact they have just yanked the Earth out of its orbit.  To further their scheme, they land on a lake island and snatch our heroes, Coburn and Hanley, and offer them metal bodies and immortality if they will help out in the liquidation of their species.

Hanley goes for it, Coburn escapes.  About this time, Marlin—the story’s narrator—is passing by the island in a boat which is half-destroyed by the comet, swims to shore, and encounters Coburn, who recruits him to the human cause.  They attack the cometeers and Coburn is killed, but the already-transplanted Hanley, in a final moment of human loyalty, destroys the machine that is steering Earth towards the comet, along with the comet-people present.  Doom is foiled.

This one is reasonably readable, mostly done in a style that reflects close attention to H.G. Wells, with echoes of both The Star and The War of the Worlds, despite the pulpish plot.  Two stars by today’s standards, probably a standout by those of its time.

Restricted Area, by Robert Sheckley

The other reprints are from the brief high-budget, and relatively high-brow, flowering of the Ziff-Davis magazines during 1952 and 1953, immediately after the magazine went from pulp size to digest size.  Robert Sheckley’s Restricted Area, from the June-July 1953 Amazing, is one of the slick but empty and cartoony pieces he produced in quantity at the beginning of his career, along with the more incisive ones. 


by Greisha Dotzenko

Space explorers land on a paradisical planet–wonderful climate, no germs, no rocks, lots of colorful friendly animals ready to hang out and play, and a giant steel shaft ascending to the clouds.  But after a while, the animals start to slow down and keel over.  Connect the dots.  Glib and facile, and the author knows it—this one hasn’t been in any of Sheckley’s multiple collections to date.  Two stars, barely.

Final Exam, by Chad Oliver


by Ashman

Final Exam by the sometimes redoubtable Chad Oliver, from the November/December 1952 Fantastic, is also from what we might call the Intermission, or Respite, between the Ziff-Davis magazines’ last gasp as pulps and their monotonous and purposely formulaic low-budget era of the mid- and late 1950s.  Like much of Oliver’s work, it reflects his anthropological bent (actually, a pretty straight-line bent—he’s become an anthropology professor at the University of Texas), but strikes an unusually sour note.  Professor La Farge’s class in Advanced Martian History is on a field trip to see and condescend to some of the colorful and primitive surviving Martians, but the time for the Martians to turn the tables has arrived in this heavy-handed satire.  Two stars, barely. 

Summing Up

Well, a couple more hours we’ll never get back, and not much to show for it, except an eccentric misfire from a sometimes brilliant writer, and a tolerable relic of a bygone era.  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…]




[November 10, 1965] Strangers in Strange Lands (December 1965 Galaxy)


by Gideon Marcus

Time for the Stars

I was having a lovely conversation with fellow traveler Kris about the mixed reviews for the British anthology show, Out of the Unknown.  Some critics are saying the stories aired would have been better served in a conventional setting rather than on Mars or wherever.

Indeed, this has been a common complaint for decades, that science fiction should be uniquely SF with stories that depend on some kind of scientific difference/unique setting, even if many of the trappings are familiar.

Galaxy is a magazine that has led this charge since its inception in 1950 and it therefore comes as no surprise that this month's issue features a myriad of settings that are in no way conventional, backdrops for stories that could take place in no genre but science fiction.

Citizens of the Galaxy


by John Pederson, Jr.

The Mercurymen, by C. C. MacApp

On the face of things, Mercury would seem a most inhospitable planet for colonization.  Until this year, the general conception of things was that the innermost planet of our solar system was tidally locked, presenting just one baked hemisphere eternally toward the sun, while the other remained in perpetual frigid night.


by Gray Morrow

C. C. MacApp offers up a most imaginative tale set on this half-cooked world.  The planet, or at least the twilight zone between the hot and cold sides, is overrun with the vines of a plant, the interiors of which are large enough and contain sufficient air and water to support human inhabitants.  How they plant came about or how the settlers came to dwell in them is a mystery, but hundreds of years later, the colonists have reverted to near savagery.  The ecosystem of the vines provides most of their needs: latex for vacuum suits, luminescent mold for light, oxygen-producing fungus for air.  But for precious metals and for new soil for crops, the denizens must venture into the airless waste outside.

Similarly, population pressure periodically forces tribes to split, members of a certain age tasked to form a new settlement further along the vine. The Mercurymen is the tale of Lem, eldest son of a recently expired chief, who leads a party out over the bleak landscape of Mercury in search of a new hope.  Along the way, he must deal with a deadly environment, hostile tribes, and treachery within the group.

Because so many of the concepts are alien, even as the characters are human, The Mercurymen can occasionally be a detailed, hard read.  Nevertheless, I appreciated MacApp's world building quite a lot, and I was carried along with Lem on his engaging, difficult adventure.  The novella would merit expansion into full length novel though the following discovery may require a complete change in setting to make it work:

From Nature, Volume 208, Issue 5008, pp. 375 (October 1965):

Rotation Period of the Planet Mercury, by McGovern, W. E.

The recent radar measurements of Mercury indicate that the period of rotation of the planet is 59 +/- 5 days1. This result is in complete disagreement with the previously quoted value of 88 days based on the visual observations of the markings on Mercury2-6. In this communication we show that the same visual observations can not only be reconciled with the radar-determined rotation period of Mercury but, in addition, can be used to derive an improved value for the period of rotation of the planet, namely, 58.4 +/- 0.4 days.

Yes, Mercury isn't tidally locked at all, and the stories that made use of this presumption are now all obsolete.  Editor Pohl may even have known this even when he put this issue to bed, as the news first broke in June.

Still, it's a good story, and again, you can squint your eyes and pretend it takes place on a different one-face world entirely.

Three stars.

Galactic Consumer Reports No. 1: Inexpensive Time Machines, by John Brunner

The latest Galaxy non-fact article is written in the style of the venerable magazine Consumer Reports, offering evaluation of six cut-rate personal time machines. 

The aforementioned Kris noted that there seem to be two John Brunners: one who writes Hugo-worthy material like The Whole Man and Listen! The Stars… and another who churns out hackwork.  I'd say this piece is representative of a third Brunner, neither outstanding nor unworthy.  It's a cute piece, although I would have appreciated a little more time travel in it.

Three stars.

Laugh Along With Franz, by Norman Kagan


by John Giunta

In a disaffected future, "None of the Above" (the so-called "Kafka" vote) threatens to become the electoral candidate of choice.

More pastiche of outlandish societal explorations than tale, I found myself falling asleep every few pages.  I'm afraid Norm Kagan continues not to do it for me.

One star.

For Your Information: The Healthfull Aromatick Herbe, by Willy Ley

A rather defensive Willy Ley discusses the history of tobacco in his latest science article.  It's actually pretty interesting, though I am no closer to taking up the still-ubiquitous pasttime than I was before.

Four stars.

The Warriors of Light, by Robert Silverberg


by Jack Gaughan

In the previously published story, Blue Fire, Silverberg introduced us to an Earth of the late 21st Century, one that worships the Vorster cult.  Vorster and his disciples cloak the scientific pursuit of immortality with a bunch of religious mumbo jumbo, complete with a rosary of the wavelengths of light.

Warriors of Light is not a sequel to Blue Fire, per se.  Instead, it is a story from a completely different perspective, that of an initiate of Vorsterianism who is recruited by a heretical group to steal some of the cult's deepest serets.

Reportedly, Silverbob produces 50,000 words of salable material per week, enough to make it seem like SF is his full time career even though it's just a fraction of his overall output.  Light is not the brilliant piece that its predecessor was, but the Cobalt-90 worshipping future Earth remains an intriguing setting, and I look forward to the next story that takes place therein.

Three stars.

"Repent, Harlequin!" Said the Ticktockman, by Harlan Ellison

In Ellison's latest tale, The Master Timekeeper, a.k.a. the Ticktockman, is the arbiter of justice for a chronologically regulated humanity.  Everything runs to schedule; tardiness is punishable by the lost of years from one's lifespan.  There is no room for deviation, nonconformity.

Yet one clownish fellow, known as The Harlequin, cannot be restrained.  His antics distract, his capers disrupt, his personality compells.  This dangerous threat must be stopped.  But in erasing the heretic, can even the master inquisitor escape just a little of the nonconformist contagion?

This is the most symbolic of Ellison's work to date, and with a deliberate, almost juvenile storytelling aspect that veers toward the Vonnegutian.  I appreciate what Harlan is doing here, but there's a lack of subtlety, a ham-handedness that makes the piece less effective than much of his other work.

Oh, my telephone is ringing.  One moment. 

Ah.  Harlan says I'm an ignorant so-and-so and if I withdrew my head from my seat, I might be able to better comprehend his work.  (Note: this is not an exact transliteration).

Anyway, three stars.

The Age of the Pussyfoot (Part 2 of 3), by Frederik Pohl


by Wallace Wood

Last up is the continuation of last month's serial by editor Pohl, who is indulging himself in his first love, writing.  Forrester, who died in the late 1960s only to be ressurrected in the 25th Century when medical technology was up to the task, has run out of dough and has become employed by the one boss who will have him, an alien from Sirius, member of a race with whom Earth is currently in a Cold War.

In this installment, we learn about how this state of not-quite conflict came to be, as well as about the Forgotten Men, the penniless humans who make a living outside of normal society.  We also learn how difficult it is to survive when one cannot pay the bill on one's "joymaker," the ubiquitous hand-held combination telephone, personal computer, and electronic valet. 

Let us hope that we never get so reliant on this kind of technology that we find ourselves similarly helpless without them!

Pussyfoot continues to be entertaining and imaginative, far more effective in execution of its subject than similarly themed Kagan piece, though less satirical in its second installment than its first.

Four stars.

Beyond This Horizon

My Heinlein motif for the article section titles may be a little misplaced given that R.A.H. doesn't appear in the pages of Galaxy this month. Call it artistic license since his most recent novels are coming out (or have come out) in sister mags Worlds of Tomorrow and IF.

Anyway, at the very least, the stories in the December 1965 Galaxy hold to the Heinlein tradition of fundamentally incorporating unique settings. No transplanted Westerns or soap operas here!

For the most part, it works, resulting in a solid 3-star issue. Why don't you pick up a copy, Space Cadet, and see if you agree!






[November 8, 1965] You Must Be Mythtaken (Doctor Who: The Myth Makers)


By Jessica Holmes

Yes, I am quite proud of myself for that title. This month, we’re taking a trip back to a time where the line between myth, legend and fact becomes blurred. Doctor Who has a new producer in John Wiles, who has some big boots to fill, and a new writer for this serial, one Donald Cotton. Let’s dive in and see how they got on.

TEMPLE OF SECRETS

Let’s establish one thing immediately: this serial makes a number of breaks from the popular accounts of the siege of Troy. To establish a second thing, I don’t mind this. It’s a legend. There might be a kernel of truth in there somewhere, but most of it was probably made up so that it would make a good story. Well, except for the bit about fighting the river god. That definitely really happened.

The real problem here is the music. Who in the world signed off on this?! It sounds as if they fitted a below-average marching band with shock collars, gave them sheet music that had been half-eaten by a dog, then made them perform drunk with no rehearsal, and giving them an electric jolt every few seconds.

It’s just noise! I have heard more pleasant primary school music recitals.

It would perhaps be more bearable if I had something to watch, but my picture quality is very poor once again. I think it must be the weather where I live.

Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor and his companions watch the unfolding fight between Achilles and Hector on the monitor, and the Doctor makes the spiffing decision to go and ask these nice chaps where and when they’ve landed.

It’s at that point that Hector practically dares the Fates to toy with him, as he mockingly challenges Zeus himself to come down and save Achilles, who is at his mercy. So when there’s a bright light and an old man pops out of a magically appearing box, he’s more than a little taken aback, and that gives Achilles the opportunity to run him through.

Achilles mistakenly believes the Doctor to be Zeus, having appeared to him in the guise of an old beggar (which made me chortle), and the Doctor doesn’t bother to correct him.

Having learnt where he is, the Doctor attempts to return to his TARDIS, but Achilles begs him to stay, showing him the camp of Agamemnon, where the Greeks have spent the last ten years sitting outside the walls of a rather well-executed miniature model of Troy.

The Doctor and Achilles meet Odysseus (yes, THAT Odysseus), who is just a total jerk, as my American friends would put it. The Doctor has a quiet giggle to himself as Odysseus sarcastically comments that Achilles probably just chased Hector around the city until he got tired rather than facing him in honest combat.

Odysseus isn’t at all convinced that the Doctor is Zeus, and after examining his tiny ‘temple’, insists that he accompany them back to the camp. After they all leave, a Trojan patrol comes out of hiding, recovering Hector’s helmet and discovering the ‘temple’ for themselves.

Steven gets tired of waiting inside the TARDIS and goes to find the Doctor, leaving Vicki behind to rest her injured ankle, which I had forgotten all about.

In the Greek camp, Meneleus, husband of Helen (the face that launched a thousand ships, but doesn’t appear in this story) is frankly bored of this whole siege. If Paris wants Helen, he can keep her.

…I see why she left him.

Agammemnon, however, is not ready to give up, and he threatens to issue a challenge to Hector on Meneleus’ behalf.

Luckily for Meneleus, that’s when Achilles gets back and informs them that Hector’s crossed the Styx.

Odysseus arrives shortly after with the Doctor in tow. The Doctor tries to prove his divinity by revealing hidden truths, such as the fact that Agamemnon’s wife is unfaithful, but it seems just about everyone knew that except the kings, who refuse to believe it without proof.

Agamemnon finds himself in a difficult position, and decides to imprison the Doctor, unwilling to risk killing him and incurring the wrath of the gods, or releasing him and having him spill all their secrets to the Trojans.

Desc: Odysseus and Cyclops

Odysseus eavesdrops outside the tent, where he’s met by a mute spy, Cyclops. Probably no relation. Cyclops tells Odysseus, through hand gestures, that he spotted a stranger coming to the camp. Investigating, Odysseus finds Steven and takes him captive, accusing him of being a spy.

Attempting to maintain his cover, the Doctor prevents the Greeks from killing Steven on the spot, telling them that if they take him to his temple tomorrow, he’ll perform a miracle and smite the spy.

Well, they’ll be quite happy to take him to the plain, but he’d better hope for bad weather… because the TARDIS is gone.

Again.

He really does have a habit for misplacing it, doesn’t he?

Desc: an empty plain, with a disc with the image of a horse on it lying on the ground.

SMALL PROPHET, QUICK RETURN

I can’t decide whether I like this pun or whether I want to steal all of the writer’s pencils.

When the time comes for ‘Zeus’ to do some smiting, the Doctor finally caves and admits that he’s not Zeus, leading to him and Steven being captured and interrogated.

Meanwhile, the TARDIS has found its way behind the walls of Troy. Paris, Hector’s brother, is feeling rather pleased with himself for having captured a Greek shrine of some sort.

His sister Cassandra tells him to get rid of it. Naturally, he ignores her. She points out that it was unguarded, and it’s about the right size for somebody to hide inside. Has he perhaps considered it’s a trap? Doesn’t this all sound rather familiar?

Their father, King Priam, soon joins the party and attempts to prise the door open, as inside Vicki frantically searches for something to wear. For heaven’s sake, just put on a bedsheet and you’ll fit right in.

After listening to the Doctor and Steven’s true accounting of who they are and how they came to be here, Odysseus figures that they wouldn’t dare tell him such a blatantly absurd story unless they were actually telling the truth, which is questionable logic but then again none of the great thinkers have been born yet (and boy, does it show!), so perhaps we shouldn’t be too harsh. He agrees to release them on the condition that they help him take the city. Oh, and they only have two days to do it.

In Troy, Cassandra is about to burn the TARDIS as an offering to the gods when Vicki finally emerges, introducing herself as a traveller from the future. All that time in there and you couldn’t come up with any cover story at all?

Cassandra accuses her first of being a pagan goddess of the Greeks (which is confusing, as at least in The Iliad’s version of events, which is what this serial is mostly based on, the Trojans worshipped the same gods), and then of being a false prophet, though Paris points out that Cassandra doesn’t have a monopoly on reading entrails and having weird dreams.

Vicki explains that she’s not prophesying, she’s just recalling her knowledge of history, which is different. Cassandra still insists that they should kill her, while Paris argues the opposite. In the end, Priam kindly assures Vicki that she shall die when HE says so, and not a moment earlier. How very…comforting.

Oh, and the name will have to go if she’s staying. Vicki sounds far too weird for their liking, so the king re-names her Cressida. How rude.

But that name does ring a bell…

Meanwhile , the Doctor and Steven are trying to come up with ideas for breaching the city, and Steven brings up the wooden horse. The Doctor shoots the idea down, as nobody would actually be stupid enough to fall for that.

A messenger arrives to inform Odysseus that he’s been volunteered on Achilles’ behalf to go and answer a challenge from Paris, but Odysseus isn’t about to fight heel-boy’s battles. Steven volunteers to go instead, and allow Paris to take him as his prisoner so that he can search for Vicki. Odysseus thinks it’s suicide, but acknowledges that it is at least very brave.

With him gone, the Doctor keeps coming up with ideas. Tunnelling’s been tried already, but how about flight?

Steven surprises Paris as he very quietly and hesitantly calls out for Achilles, necessitating a change of loincloth on Paris’ part. He astutely observes that Steven isn’t Achilles. Lowering his voice, he admits to thinking that really this whole thing seems to have got a bit out of hand, and he doesn’t really fancy killing anyone who isn’t Achilles anyway.

Desc: A man in Greek armour fights a man in Trojan armour.

Well maybe you should have thought about that before running off with a married woman, hmm?

That said, he has a point.

He reluctantly starts fighting, and Steven has to pretend to lose, because let’s face it, Steven could eat Paris for breakfast if he were actually trying.

It’s very funny when a baffled Paris asks ‘I beg your pardon?’ and then Steven has to actually talk him into accepting his surrender, buttering him up by pretending that the Greeks tell all sorts of extraordinary tales about Paris. He sure would like to tell some of those tales within earshot of the Trojans, and gosh, wouldn’t they all be very impressed with Paris for capturing this great Greek warrior? Cough, cough. Hint, hint.

Nonplussed but a little flattered, Paris agrees to take Steven back to the city, and the pair leave, watched by Cyclops as they go.

In the city, Priam treats Vicki to a slap-up meal courtesy of his cousin Aeneas’ smuggling operation, and regales her with tales of just how much the Trojans like horses. They really, really like horses. There’s such a thing as liking horses too much, you know.

Vicki recalls a legend she once heard regarding Troy and horses, and Priam tries to press her about it. She changes the subject by asking about Troilus, the king’s youngest son. He’s rather good looking, isn’t he?

There’s a bit of a random, out-of-nowhere line on not putting too much stock into good looks, as that will only get you into trouble. Just take Paris and Helen. Paris is a nice looking bloke, popular with the ladies, and also a total cowardy-cowardy-custard. He got all taken with Helen’s beauty, and before you know it there’s a decade-long war.

‘Shame he didn’t meet a nice sensible girl like you,’ he tells Vicki. ‘It’s character that counts, not good looks.’

Ouch! Talk about a back-handed compliment.

Priam hastily apologises, insisting he didn’t mean it like that, and is about to press Vicki on what she knows of the war again when Paris marches Steven into the room, pleased as punch.

Shocked to see each other, Vicki and Steven blurt out one another’s names, and Cassandra realises at once that they must know each other.

If ‘Cressida’ knows this Greek, what more proof do they need that she’s a spy? There’s only one thing to be done with spies. They must be put to death.

Desc: A soldier in ancient Trojan armour brandishes his sword.

DEATH OF A SPY

I was quite disappointed that this episode didn’t start with a punny title. Some might consider that a good thing, though.

Tired of Cassandra’s zealotry, Paris intervenes to stop the guards dispatching Vicki and Steven. Priam is willing to believe Vicki when she says she’s not a spy, but she’ll have to prove herself. She will have to use her divine powers to aid Troy against the Greeks. If not, she’ll be burnt. In the meantime she will have to stay in the dungeons, but Priam assures her that it’s actually rather nice down there.

At least he’s affable, but I think all the men in this story have one brain cell between them and they’re playing pass-the-parcel with it.

Don't look so unimpressed, Odysseus. It's not as if you've got any better ideas.

The Doctor continues to pursue his idea for a very anachronistic flying machine. I think if you left him to his own devices for long enough he’d end up inventing the aircraft carrier several millenia early.

However, he’s not too keen on the idea of testing his invention, something Odysseus would very much like to see him do.

In the dungeons of Troy, Vicki and Steven are visited by Cyclops, who Steven tells to warn the Greeks not to attack until the day after tomorrow, so that they can buy Vicki some time. It’s then that the king’s youngest son, Troilus, visits ‘Cressida’ in her cell.

He brings her some food, and she coaxes him into sitting and talking with her.

Meanwhile, the Doctor abandons his idea of using flying machines, claiming to have made a mistake in his calculations. If you ask me, I think he was just scared of trying out his contraption.

With no better options available he finally suggests the idea of building a wooden horse. He explains the legendary plan, and Odysseus actually seems quite taken with it. So is Meneleus, once the Doctor explains to him that they’re building the horse, not looking for an actual fifty-foot-tall equine.

Maybe there is someone stupid enough to fall for it, after all.

In Vicki’s cell, she’s getting rather cosy with Troilus, and poor Steven no doubt feels very awkward as the chatting turns to outright flirting. Troilus even asks at one point whether Steven is really just Vicki’s friend or if he’s something more. Someone’s a little jealous!

When he finally leaves, Steven mocks Vicki for being so unsubtle. She retorts that she was only doing what she could to get them both out of prison. But was that really all there was to it?

Unfortunately for the pair of them, it looks like their message to delay the attack won’t reach the Greeks. Cyclops gets caught as he leaves the city, and is swiftly killed by a Trojan soldier.

The Greeks finish building their horse in an astonishingly short amount of time. Wait, where did they get the wood? There don’t seem to be any trees nearby. They’d have to travel and cut the lumber and transport it back and assemble it…and they did all that in a few hours? Yes, I’m nitpicking a fictional retelling of a pseudo-historical event that almost certainly did not happen, but it’s my job.

Desc: The head of the Trojan horse

The Doctor waits with Odysseus and his soldiers inside the horse, but the Doctor isn’t at all happy about it. In one memorable line that I am very, very surprised made it past the censors, Odysseus snaps that the Doctor is making him “…as nervous as a Bacchante at her first orgy.”

I beg your pardon?

I think you’ll find that a Bacchante is a female ROMAN follower of the ROMAN god, Bacchus. The Greek equivalent would be a Maenad, a female follower of the Greek equivalent, Dionysus.

The nonsense they’ll allow in children’s television these days!

Soon Troilus comes to Vicki in her cell and tells her that the Greeks have all left. The king thinks that she’s been a good luck charm after all, and has ordered her release. Unfortunately Steven isn’t as lucky.

The Trojans start bringing the horse into the city, much to Cassandra’s dismay. As annoying as she can be, she's the only person in the city with half a brain.

The Trojans think they’ve won… but it’s only a matter of time.

Desc:: The Trojan horse stands on a hill.

HORSE OF DESTRUCTION

The title of this episode sounds like it lost its nerve halfway to being a pun. That, or it’s just a stupid title. I know that Doctor Who likes ‘Noun of Adjective’-style titles, but ‘Horse of Destruction’ just sounds silly.

Cassandra says that the horse is a trick, an obvious trick, and the arrival of the ‘temple’ has brought nothing but bad luck, just as she said. Well, a stopped clock is right twice a day.

They notice ‘Cressida’ seems to have vanished, and Troilus goes to look for her while Cassandra sends her maidservant, Katarina.

Desc: Paris, Priam and Cassandra all look out the window.

Vicki releases Steven from the dungeon, telling him about the horse problem, and Steven wonders if his message got through. Well, chum, take a look at the great big horse standing in the town square and tell me what you think.

Perhaps it’s something in the water?

Troilus finds that his ‘Cressida’ has gone missing, and Cassandra starts screaming, yet again, about finding her and burning her. Cassandra, I like the mythical version of you, but all that screeching is giving me a headache.

Vicki returns to the palace, and they grill her on where she’s been. She manages to placate them, and the king goes with his children to investigate the horse, leaving Vicki alone with Katarina.

The Doctor grows thoroughly sick of Odysseus’ company, and finally snaps. He thoroughly tells him off, but the 'hero' pays him no mind.

Is there a Doctor in the horse?

Troilus returns for Vicki, who warns him to leave the city and find Steven (or as Troilus knows him, Diomedes) out on the plain. He takes her advice and takes his leave. Moments later, the Greeks emerge from the horse and begin dispatching the Trojan sentries. The Doctor looks on helplessly, dismayed at all the bloodshed.

Troilus doesn’t find ‘Diomedes’ out on the plane, but he does find Achilles. He doesn’t have long to wonder if ‘Cressida’ played him false before Achilles attacks. It’s a tough fight, but Achilles catches his heel on a bush and stumbles, enabling Troilus to deliver him a mortal blow. However, the dying Achilles summons the last of his strength and thrusts his sword at Troilus, gravely wounding him. So much for sending him out of harm’s way.

Desc: Achilles lies mortally wounded.At least it's more dignified than dying of an arrow to the heel.

The Greeks open the gates of Troy, letting the rest of the army inside the city. The royal family barely have time to realise what’s happening before Odysseus bursts into the palace, and they realise that all is lost.

Vicki and the Doctor find each other in the chaos, and Vicki sends Katarina to find Steven before taking the Doctor into the TARDIS to talk to him.

However, wearing the guise of a Greek soldier doesn’t do Steven any favours. He gets a nasty wound in the shoulder before Katarina finds him and brings him safely back to the Doctor.

Vicki emerges from the TARDIS. In a curious gesture she hugs the ship before turning and walking back into the city. The Doctor watches in concern as she goes, but makes no attempt to stop her.

Odysseus attempts to prevent the Doctor from leaving, but the Doctor doesn’t have to put up with his nonsense any more. As the TARDIS vanishes, Odysseus wonders if he really was a god after all.

But where’s Vicki?

Desc: Vicki and Troilus arm-in-arm.

Out on the plains, Troilus is wailing over ‘Cressida’s betrayal quite hilariously, thoroughly chewing the scenery. He settles down once she turns up and explains herself. She couldn’t just leave him and allow him to think she’d betrayed him. Besides, she belongs here now.

Excuse me? You flirt for five minutes with this guy and you decide to go and live in the Bronze Age? Vicki, that’s the teenage hormones talking. What was the Doctor thinking letting her go?

Aeneas conveniently shows up, and Troilus and Cressida go to join him in building a new Troy. I can think of a lovely spot on the Italian peninsula which should do quite nicely.

And then they kiss. How romantic.

No, I don’t buy it. I’m sorry, but I just don’t. That’s twice now that Doctor Who has written off a teen-aged companion by making her fall in love with a bloke she’s just met, This time it feels less believable than it did with Susan, for whom it made sense as an ending to her arc, but Vicki showed no signs of being ready to stop travelling. In addition, Susan and David had been through more together, whereas Vicki apparently falls in love with Troilus after one chat in a prison cell.

The Doctor is a terrible guardian. Who in any universe would think it’s a good idea to leave a teen-aged girl in a warzone? Absolutely nothing good could come of that.

However, he’s more worried about Steven right now, who has taken a turn for the worse and badly needs drugs. I suppose whatever the Doctor is a Doctor of, it’s not medicine.

Katarina, who looks to be well on her way to being Vicki's replacement in the TARDIS crew, think she’s died and that the Doctor is a god. Who does that make him, I wonder? Hades?

Desc: Katarina and the Doctor

Final Thoughts

The Myth Makers is a very enjoyable serial with many funny moments. I found myself laughing aloud in parts, having fun all the way. Donald Cotton does appear to have the knack for comic writing. With a number of cast members already established as comic actors, it’s no surprise that it turned out to be as funny as it did. Conversely, I think the serial is at its weakest when it’s trying to be more serious.

Vicki’s sendoff doesn’t make much sense to me, as it feels like too abrupt an ending for her story. I cannot speak to what may be going on behind the scenes at the BBC, but I suspect that Maureen O’Brien might have been a casualty of whatever shake-ups the new producer has in store. Only time will tell, but this has been the weakest companion departure so far. That's a real pity, as I liked Vicki a lot. She was witty, intelligent, kind, inquisitive, and just a delight to have around. O’Brien and Hartnell had excellent chemistry together. I feel quite sorry for our leading man now that all of his old long-term castmates have left.

Perhaps Katarina will be able to fill the hole Vicki left. It would be quite interesting to see how a girl from ancient Troy would react to all the weird, wonderful and horrible things out there in the Doctor’s universe.

I wonder what she’d make of a Dalek?

Text reads: Next Episode, THE NIGHTMARE BEGINS

3.5 out of 5 stars




[November 6, 1965] Turns, Turns, Turns (Avalon Hill's Midway and Battle of the Bulge)


by Gideon Marcus

For the Byrds

"To everything (turn, turn, turn) there is a season (turn, turn, turn)" says the newest hit record by The Byrds.  It appears that America's premiere wargaming company, Avalon Hill, has taken this phrase to heart, releasing not one but two World War 2 themed games in the past year, one taking place in the sultry days just before summer, the other in the bleak frigidity of mid-December.

Midway and Battle of the Bulge both are significant departures from the games that preceded them (e.g. Afrika Korps, D-Day, Tactics II, Waterloo, Stalingrad, etc.) and both push the state of the art in armchair wargaming forward quite a bit.

Of course, as charter members of the Galactic Journey Wargaming Society, Janice, Lorelei, John, and I spent many hours giving these games a spin.  And you, luck readers, now get to see the fruits of our "labor"!

Midway

For seven months after Pearl Harbor, the Japanese raged almost unopposed across the Pacific.  Their juggernaut rolled over Indonesia, the Phillipines, Burma, Hong Kong, Singapore, New Guinea, and the American outpost of Wake Island.  Yet their primary goal, the elimination of the American navy, eluded them.  The Japanese doctrine was centered around a decisive fleet battle victory that would force the Americans to the negotiation table.

On June 4, 1942, the Japanese got their chance.  Six Japanese carriers and an invasion force steamed for the American island of Midway.  Three U.S. carriers were dispatched to prevent the island's capture.  Thanks to some expert code-breaking and a little luck, the Battle of Midway ended in a Japanese defeat, marking the high-water mark of their expansion.

But could it have gone differently?

Battleship for grownups

If you've ever played the Milton Bradley game Battleship, you already have an idea how Midway works.  Sort of.  Midway is actually two games in one.  The first takes place on a strategic board depicting the ocean around Midway island.  The Japanese fleet enters from the west in several groups while the American navy is arrayed in the east.  Each turn, both sides call out sections of the board to search with their scout aircraft.  If enemy ships are spotted, carriers (and the airfield on Midway) can launch aircraft to attack them. 

Only a limited number of sections can be searched per turn, depending on the nationality and disposition of ships, so there's a lot of cat and mouse to this portion of the game.  Whoever gets the first strike has an advantage, though a straight slugfest will tend to favor the Japanese as they have more planes.

Hornet's nest

The second portion of the game involves the actual plane to ship combat.  The defending player arranges their ships to maximize antiaircraft screening while the attacker arrays a combination of torpedo bombers, dive bombers, and escorting fighters to most effectively sink vessels.  No attacks can be made risk free, though it is always better to lose one or two planes in an assault if the yield is the loss of an enemy carrier deck.

Points are scored for vessels lost and the speed at which the Japanese take Midway.  Indeed, the Japanese can win their battles pretty handily, but just a turn or two delay or the loss of a key ship can cause them to lose the game on points.

That's what happened when John and I played — as the admiral of the Kidou Butai, I left the American navy at the bottom of the sea and took Midway, but the delay in my timeline caused me to come shy of my victory conditions by just a few points.

Scorecard

I appreciated the novelty of Midway.  It was quite different from the other wargames I had played to date, although, to be fair, I have not played Bismark, which I understand also has a search and evade dynamic.

Nevertheless, there just wasn't enough to the game to merit a lot of replay.  As much as I like ships and am an ardent Nipponophile, Midway failed to grab me.  John felt similarly.

Three stars.

Battle of the Bulge

Where Midway was the faltering step of a military at the height of its power, the Battle of the Bulge was the twilight of a fallen giant.  In December 1944, the Allied forces had steamrollered their way across France and the Low Countries, pushing the Nazi Reich back to its traditional Rhine border.  While it was clear that the war wouldn't be won by Christmas, it also seemed that the Germans, hard pressed in both the east and west, could no longer take any role other than the defensive.

This conclusion was wrong.

On December 16, 1944, an onslaught of panzers and troops smashed against a thinly defended point in the Ardennes forest — the same area the Germans had attacked on their way to Paris in May 1940.  Aided by a cloak of overcast, the Wehrmacht lanced into Belgium with the aim of dividing the British and American armies, seizing the port of Antwerp, and forcing the West to sue for a separate peace.  Within a few days, German troops had laid siege to the stubborn redoubt of Bastogne, and Tigers and Panthers were probing the banks of the Meuse river, an important allied defensive line.  By then, Hitler's last gasp had formed the shape on the ground for which this episode of the war was named.

Of course, we know how things ended.  The rugged defenders of Bastogne answered "Nuts" to calls for their surrender.  Allied reinforcements blunted and then repelled the Nazi advance.  The skies cleared up after Christmas allowing the overwhelming British and American air superiority to savage the German lines.  By early January 1945, the battle of the bulge was over, and Germany's ability to wage offensive war decisively destroyed.

What if?

Avalon Hill's newest game recreates this exciting (if preordained) battle in close detail.  Turns last just twelve hours, and units are represented down to the regiment/brigade level.  As with the game, Waterloo, the Germans start out with numerical superiority and have to work their way from one side of the map to the other against increasingly reinforced Allied lines.  Indeed, both Waterloo and Battle of the Bulge fight over practically the same real estate.  Poor little Belgium.  Victory is won by the German player if a sufficient number of troops is pushed across the Meuse and supported for 48 hours.  Alternatively, that number can be smaller if the Wehrmacht takes and holds the key towns of Clervaux, St. Vith, and Spa.

While many of the mechanics of the game look familiar at first blush, Battle of the Bulge represents a great departure from its predecessors.  For one thing, it has a completely different Combat Results Table.  Virtually all of the Avalon Hill games since Tactics II had used the same chart to determine the effects of combat.  This time, instead of just offering "eliminate", "retreat", and "exchange" (equal destruction of both forces) options, there are now also the results of "engaged" (which locks up units until the battle be decisively resolved) and "contact" (neither side inflicts any damage).

Roads and the holding thereof are critical.  Off the roads, troops and vehicles are slowed to a crawl.  On the roads, advances can slice deep into enemy territory.  However, such advances can only be made nilly-willy in the Basic Game; in the Advanced Game, there are supply considerations, which largely only affect the Germans.  If a Wehrmacht unit cannot trace a logistical path along roads back to the east side of the map without it being blocked by allied units or their surrounding "zones of control", it immediately loses much of its mobility.  After six turns of being cut off, surrounded units of either side cease to exist.

Treads hit the Road

In the first game, I played the Germans against John using the Basic Rules.  It was a handy victory, my panzers rushing with gay abandon behind the Allied lines and reaching the Meuse well before Christmas.  But without supply restrictions, the game felt little like a simulation of any real-world situation.

As it turned out, my next opponents were Janice and Lorelei, hot on the heels of an excellent and hard-fought game of Waterloo.  They enjoyed working together as a team (which made sense in both games as they played coalitions rather than single nations) and I appreciated the added challenge that came from matching wits with a double-brained foe.

Given the apparent German advantage in Battle of the Bulge, they needed every neuron they could get.  The Wehrmacht simply overwhelms the first few turns, and so long as the dice are reasonable, advance is swift.  The German assembles a ridiculous number of panzers to assault one spot, while assembling the rest into suite of two to one attacks, making sure to surround their prey.  Since no attacker deaths can result from either of these types of fights, the Huns can sweep through their resistance while taking very few casualties.

In the game we played, I don't feel the Allies made any specific mistakes and yet I reached the Meuse at around the same time as I had in my game with John, and I only lost a single unit in the process.  Needless to say, we'll have to play again (likely switching sides) to see if the issue is the game or just beginner's bad luck.  The current plan is to play a game starting December 16, 1965 and play through in "real-time". 

I'll be glad to play the good guys.  Putting on Wehrmacht gray makes me very uncomfortable.

Scorecard

As for rating, pending further study, I'd give Battle of the Bulge four stars.  It's definitely got replay value, and it's the most dynamic Avalon Hill game I've played to date with the possible exception of Afrika Korps.

Previews of Coming Attractions

It looks like Avalon Hill has managed to squeeze out one more title this year.  An advertisement for Blitzkrieg came with my latest catalog; it looks like it will be some kind of generic, division-level strategic game. Looks fun and customizable — needless to say, I've ordered my copy!

Join the Fun!

If all this talk of playing general stirs something your bones (and hey, it's a lot more fun and less harmful than actual fighting), you are warmly invited to join our Galactic Journey Wargaming Society.  We have been facilitating several play-by-mail games so that even players remote from each other can enjoy a contest: over the summer, we had a smashing good time killing each other in a friendly game of Diplomacy.

And you get a spiffy newsletter!  What are you waiting for?






[November 4, 1965] The Best Bad Science Fiction Wrestling Can Offer (A Review of Two Films of El Santo)


Ginevra Gafaro

There is nothing that hits the spot like a good bad science fiction film. For the best bad science fiction, there is nothing quite so satisfying as the genre of masked wrestler movies.

These films are required to balance plot, science fiction, and actual wrestling all while operating on a tight budget and being filmed in a short number of weeks. The ingenuity required of the cast and crew is nothing short of extraordinary. There are no stunt doubles and little room for error.

Two of the best examples of the new genre, Invasion of the Zombies and Samson Versus the Vampire Women, are now showing in a double feature at the Fort Lauderdale Thunderbird Drive In Theater — dubbed in English, but I've seen the originals, and I had to see them again in any format possible, they're that good.

Why These Films are Good

The plots of both films follow a simple premise: science fiction shenanigans occur and the best person to help resolve it is the masked wrestler Samson. It is easy to extrapolate how it ends from there. The beauty of these films is in the fast pace that keeps viewers at the edge of their seat and frankly, that they offer some of the most impressive wrestling matches ever seen on the screen.

El Santo
The masked wrestler himself, El Santo.

Both of these films star actual masked wrestler Rodolfo “El Santo” Guzman Huerta essentially playing himself on the big screen. Both films are produced by Alberto Lopez with cinematography by Jose Ortiz Ramos. Starring opposite El Santo is Jaime Fernandez who technically plays a character named Detective Rodriguez in one film and a character named Inspector Carlos in the other, but it is easy to imagine them as the same character.

Invasion of the Zombies

Title shot of Invasion of the Zombies in Spanish
Title shot from the original film, Santo Contra Los Zombies. This was later released in English under the name Invasion of the Zombies.

Invasion of the Zombies opens exactly as you might expect: on a ring match between Samson and another wrestler. The bout is a combination of choppy greco wrestling and some impressive lucha libre moves. One lovely highlight is when Samson jumps, grabs his opponent around the neck with his ankles and throws him flat on his back over on the other side of the ring. Incredible.

Ankles
Gorgeous.

The match goes on for about ten minutes before the actual plot begins (which is just fine). A young woman, Gloria, reaches out to local police after her father disappears. He had just finished his book on zombies. Three detectives agree to take the case, and they head over to her house to investigate. They find no leads but they do meet her uncle and his dedicated caretaker, who are distraught about the missing relative.

The film cuts to three men breaking into a jewelry store while moving in unison. They use what appears to be a laser wand to burn through a jewelry vault. A man walks in and shoots one of the three men. The bullets don’t affect him in the slightest, not even when one is shot directly in his head! The shooter is knocked unconscious by what is clearly a zombie and the three robbers leave. As they approach their getaway car, the police attempt to stop them. Again, bullets have no effect on these men, who are all obviously zombies, and the police are easily defeated.

Three men dressed in grecco style clothing while emptying out the safe deposit boxes.
Three robbers, who may or may not be zombies, empty out safe deposit boxes.

And Now For Samson

The officers explain the events to the police chief back at their station. No one uses the word zombie but it’s pretty clear this was not the typical robbery. The police chief calls local masked wrestler Sampson for help on his audio/visual communications system. Clearly the strange circumstances can only be resolved with his assistance.

Police Chief and Santo communicate through communication devices.
Samson talks with the Police Chief regarding his request for assistance.

Meanwhile the private investigators looking for the missing professor come to the same conclusions as the police chief: they decide to ask Samson for his help in their investigation. No explanation is given, but really, at this point does anyone need to provide one?

Samson somehow manages to use his communications system to spy on the black hooded villain controlling robbers. He sees the villain order the three robbers to steal children from the local orphanage. Samson rushes over to stop them. When he arrives, the zombies have children under each arm and the orphanage is on fire.

Zombies steal children from an orphanage. Typical zombie nonsense. Zombies steal children from the orphanage and light it on fire. Because they're evil.

Luring them outside to fight in the grass, a three-on-one battle ensues, Samson keeping them busy until the police appear. The good guys then all band together to stop the three robbers and yet the robbers still manage to defeat them. Not all is lost; the zombies escape without stealing any children.

The officers manage to identify the robbers and are shocked to discover they are all dead men. It is at this point that someone proposes that these people are zombies. The police chief cannot believe it.

To The Shock of No One, Things Escalate

The black hooded villain decides something must be done about Samson. He abducts Samson’s next wrestling opponent and injects him with an unknown substance.

In the ring match against Samson, the opponent shows superhuman strength and skill, nearly choking Samson to death. Samson notices something strange under his opponent's tights and pulls open the hem of his pants. The tug causes smoke to pour out from the pants and the opponent falls over in the ring. His body disappears right in front of everyone, leaving behind a strange belt on fire.

The villain then decides to try to kidnap the Mayor and Gloria. Like you do.

The villain sends three zombies out to do his bidding.
The villain gives his orders to his three favorite zombies.

Samson and the team of detectives trace the villain down to his lair, Samson battling the villain while the police fight the zombie horde. He manages to slay him and break the zombie controlling machine. The identity of the villain is revealed and the zombies disappear in a mesmerizing special effect.


Zombie Horde.

Here the story ends with a beautiful comment from Samson: “When men violate the rules of God, they become victims of their own misdeeds.” It is a more thoughtful ending than one would expect for a movie about a masked wrestler fighting zombies.

Samson Versus the Vampire Women

Title shot of Samson Versus the Vampire Women
Original title shot of Santo vs. Las Mujeres Vampiro, later released in English under the title Samson vs. the Vampire Women

Samson Versus the Vampire Women starts strong with haunting music and beautiful close ups. A vampire woman, Tundra, slips from her coffin to awaken three male vampires from their slumber. The men have been chained to granite slabs while the women rest comfortably in underground coffins.

The aesthetics of their home are stunning, a fine line between Gothic and Grecian. The special effects on the audio render the opening monologue nearly unintelligible but the beauty of the film makes it irrelevant.

The film cuts to a young woman, Diana, playing Moonlight Sonata on the piano for her brother and father. She stops playing and claims she felt summoned by the face of a beautiful woman.

The beautiful woman that Diana claims is watching her.
This is the beautiful woman Diana believes is watching her. She's right.

Diana and her brother retire for the evening, leaving their father to pull out some papers covered in large hieroglyphics. He starts to translate the document, stating that in 200 years a descendant of the woman named Rebecca will be called when she turns 21 to be put through the rituals of the vampire women.

This appears to be a universe where 200 years prior, people recorded information by using rudimentary hieroglyphics as a cipher to prevent the information from falling into the wrong hands. This is the only explanation one can surmise for the use of hieroglyphics spelling out gibberish and being read in the wrong order.

The professor calls Samson for assistance on his audio/visual communications device. Samson enters his office through the balcony, and the professor explains that Samson is the masculine equivalent of Rebecca with the condensed force of masculine strength. The actor's ability to deliver that bit of dialogue is impressive. The professor asks Samson for his assistance in keeping his daughter Diana safe. It is believed that she is the descendant of Rebecca. It’s either that, or she’s the descendant of Sappho.


The professor speaks with his friend Samson. I wonder how they became friends.

It is very important for you to know that Samson spends this entire film wearing tights, his mask, and an optional cape. It’s a good look.

Samson looking very handsome and shirtless.
Samson looking very handsome in his shirt optional attire.

We Now Interrupt Your Plot for Wrestling

Here the film cuts to Samson at a wrestling match. The match goes on for quite a while, but it’s composed of excellent fight choreography. And if you didn't come here for the wrestling, why did you come here?

Afterwards, the film moves back and forth between some quick scenes:

The vampire woman from the beginning of the movie bites Diana’s neck and drinks her blood before running off. The Carmilla similarities are off the charts.

Vampire woman leans down to drink Diana's blood.
The vampire leans down to drink Diana's blood.

A group of vampire women corner a man and drain him of blood in their lair.

The vampires discuss how they will take Diana on her 21st birthday. It is just as absurd as you can imagine, a cross between a high school girls sleepover and a cult militia. I am torn at this point in the movie. On one hand, clearly Diana would be happy with these young women considering that this is being presented as some sort of destiny plot. On the other hand, she can do better.

Vampire woman gather to discuss stealing Diana.
The vampires gather to discuss the abduction of Diana. My enemy, rubber bat on a string, makes an appearance.

In the evening, the professor throws a birthday party for Diana. The front door is guarded by two men who are charged with making sure no one enters without an invitation. A male and female vampire put him into a trance and slip in among the party guests. Not proficient at mingling, the vampires are discovered and Samson shows up to fight them. He manages to drive them off. A man is found dead from vampire bites. The group gathers to discuss next steps.

Two vampires walk into a party.
Two vampires walk into a party. They talked their way into an invitation.

Plot Relevant Wrestling Commences

Samson is forced to leave in order to fight in his next wrestling match. His opponent wears a black mask and fights with inhuman strength. Things are touch and go but Samson unmasks his opponent only to reveal a hideous vampire face. The spectators and officials riot. In the confusion, the vampire escapes and is next seen abducting Diana in a taxi.

Officers and wrestling fans alike riot.
Nearby officers try to stop the vampire while wrestling fans riot.

Her father consults his books and thus determines the location of the vampire lair. Samson immediately heads over… and walks into a trap. The vampires chain him down on one of the granite coffins but the foxy Samson manages to escape. He keeps the vampires busy but they pin him down, reaching for his mask. Just as they are about to reveal him, the sun comes in from the windows and sets the vampires on fire. A few manage to escape to the underground lair, but Samson is determined to stop them. He grabs a flaming torch and sets all of their coffins to blaze.


Samson sets fire to the vampire coffins.

Triumphant, Samson carries Diana out of the lair. He hands her back to her family and drives off into the distance.

It Sounds Terrible. Why Bother Watching?

So is it worth watching a pair of import SF films about a wrestler fighting the evil forces of the supernatural? In a word, yes. Invasion of the Zombies offers some stunning visuals and a clever version of zombies not seen before on the silver screen. Using a belt and computers to control zombies? Brilliant. Similarly, the soundscaping in Samson Versus the Vampire Women really cannot be overpraised — creepy, haunting, and beautiful in equal measures. And El Santo is always a joy to watch, one of the greatest athletes to appear on the silver screen.

True, there is also some awful film making. Invasion of the Zombies doesn’t even bother to attempt to explain why a masked wrestler is the ideal person to fight zombies or search for a man in a missing persons case. For every jaw dropping action sequence in both films, there was at least one very stupid on screen event. The ancient Egyptian bit was particularly enraging.

But the gravest sin of all, dear readers, is the use of a cheap rubber bat on a visible string in multiple shots of Samson Versus the Vampire Women. The bats weren’t even necessary for the film’s progression.

Still, for all the faults, at the heart of both films is a sincerity. Their creators clearly tried to make a product greater than the sum of its parts. That the films end up a joy to watch despite their admitted flaws is evidence that the creators have succeeded.

These two movies are truly some of the best bad science fiction that wrestling has to offer.

Samson waves goodbye from his car.
Samson waves goodbye.






[November 2, 1965] Revolution! (December 1965 IF)


by David Levinson

Americans have an odd relationship with revolution. They’re quite proud of their own, but extremely leery of anyone else’s. But revolution seems to be the natural order of things in the 20th century. Not all of them have been violent, nor have all of them been political. And no doubt we will see many more – political, scientific, economic, social and even sexual – before the decade, let alone the century is out.

Revolution turned upside-down

Since the end of the War, the major colonial powers of the 19th century have been gradually handing over control of their colonies to the native people. It hasn’t always been voluntary, nor has it always been smooth. But the British seem to be doing better than the others at handing over power. Most transitions have gone smoothly, though not perfectly. Until now.

Negotiations have been ongoing with Rhodesia since last year. The sticking point has been an improvement in the status of Black Rhodesians and an end to racial discrimination, insisted on by the United Kingdom. The white Rhodesian government led by Prime Minister Ian Smith is vigorously opposed the idea of equality for Blacks.

Talks broke down on October 8th over the issue of majority rule. With rumors circulating that Rhodesia will declare independence, the U. N. General Assembly voted 107-2 to call on the United Kingdom to use military force to prevent such an event. Ten days later, the Organization of African Unity passed a similar declaration. British Prime Minister Harold Wilson has gone to Rhodesia to continue negotiations, apparently without success. On the 30th, Wilson gave a press conference before returning home in which he stated that a unilateral declaration of independence would be treason, but that the United Kingdom would rely on trade sanctions and ruled out the use of military force against “kith and kin”. A peaceful resolution does not seem to be at hand.


Harold Wilson (l.) and Ian Smith (r.)

Revolutions start to finish

Americans may not like the idea of revolution in the real world, but as part of their national mythology it turns up frequently in fiction. This month’s IF is filled with revolution, both political and otherwise.


There’s no clue what this odd revolutionary slogan means. Fred Pohl promises an answer next month. Art by Morrow

The Moon is a Harsh Mistress (Part 1 of 5), by Robert A. Heinlein

In 2075, the Moon has been a penal colony for nearly a century. A prison without walls or guards, because there’s nowhere to run, and after just a few months, permanent physiological changes caused by the low gravity mean no one can go back to Earth. That means that many people living there are free men and women descended from former prisoners, but still subject to the Lunar Authority.

One such is Manuel Garcia O’Kelly-Davis. Mannie, who lost his left arm in a mining accident and has several interesting prosthetics, is a computer repairman. One of his jobs is maintaining the Lunar Authority’s central computer, a High-Optional, Logical, Multi-Evaluation Supervisor, Mark IV – a HOLMES FOUR. Somewhere along the way, so many different modules were added to the computer it gained consciousness. Only Mannie has noticed and dubbed this new “person” Mycroft, Mike for short, after Sherlock Holmes’s smarter brother. Mike is quite the joker, with a fondness for practical jokes and puns, but he’s lonely, since everyone else is too stupid to have figured out that he’s alive.

At Mike’s request, Mannie attends a political meeting where he is introduced to Wyoming Knott, a rabble-rouser from Hong Kong Luna, and runs into his old teacher, Professor Bernardo de la Paz. After Wyoh (as she prefers to be called) gives a stirring speech encouraging revolution against the Authority and the Prof agrees with her goals but pokes holes in her methods, the meeting is broken up by the Warden’s goons and turns deadly.

Mannie helps Wyoh escape and, while they’re hiding out, introduces her to Mike, who eventually creates a feminine personality called Michelle to talk to Wyoh. The next day, they meet with the Prof and have a discussion about revolution. Mannie and Wyoh exchange a knowing look when the Prof points out the importance of communications; that’s one of Mike’s bailiwicks. After the Prof expounds on the idea of revolutionary cells, Mannie suggests a few improvements and suddenly finds himself nominated to head the revolution. To be continued.


Mannie wearing his Number Three arm. Art by Morrow

All but the most rabid Heinlein fans will agree that his last few novels have been uneven at best. But this is Heinlein at his best. We have the standard Heinlein characters here: Mannie, the competent man who mostly goes along to get along until pushed to do more by circumstance; Wyoh, the strong, beautiful, brilliant woman who does the pushing (though not a love interest so far); and the Prof, the older man who loves teaching and the sound of his own voice. Mike is a bit different. He obviously has a role to play, but we need to see more.

Not much really happens in these 50 pages, but Heinlein keeps you reading, even through long discussions of Lunar marriage customs and revolutionary organization. And once again, Heinlein has slipped a minority protagonist into his work. Mannie is not only Latin as his name suggests, but he probably counts as Black, with a grandfather deported from South Africa. When he first sees her, Mannie notes that pale, blonde Wyoh is clearly first generation since the genes tend to get all mixed up pretty quickly, so most of the people we meet are probably of mixed race.

Four stars and I’m eager to see more.

Security Syndrome, by Gerald Pearce

Professor James Brown has arrived at the regional headquarters of the Society to report someone as politically unreliable: himself. Despite his double-A rating, he feels that his sensitive position and his exposure to older texts full of “unescoism” have rendered him unfit. To say more would give the whole story away.

The United States has clearly undergone a revolution prior to the time of this story. The unnamed Society merely advises the government on the political reliability of citizens, and we hear of a second Bill of Rights, which includes a guarantee of “freedom from seditious, false and heretical doctrines”. It also seems that Brown’s actions are going to trigger another revolution.

This is a good story, though not without problems. I had some difficulty keeping the various Society members straight, and the story sagged in places. Still, a solid three stars.

Toys for Debbie, by David A. Kyle

Six-year-old Debbie Curtis likes to play with toys for both girls and boys, but she does have a tendency to break them. Insurance salesman Mr. Black has offered her father some excellent terms and occasionally drops by with a present for Debbie. What could be the harm?

I often complain that an author has attempted a “Twilight Zone ending”, an ironic twist that hasn’t really been set up. Long-time fan David Kyle (who most recently appeared in these pages as an artist) has written what would be an excellent episode of The Twilight Zone. It’s easy to imagine Rod Serling popping up at the end to offer a terse epilogue. Every moment is earned, and it ends not with a twist, but a shudder. Three stars.

St. George and the Dragonmotive, by Robert F. Young

Lieutenant George St. George of the International Pastpolice has gone to sixth century England to investigate an anachronism. There he meets a few knights, including one from Camelot, hunting for a dragon which has devoured a fair maiden and several peasants, who miraculously remain “on live”. The dragon proves to be a train, resembling the Stourbridge Lion, driven by a young woman he dubs Cassiana Jones. Train-lover George must work his way into her favor to track down the source of this industrial revolution.


An unusual comic style for Gray Morrow, but the best thing about this story. Art by Morrow

Typically for Young, the protagonist is an addlepated twerp. Worse, though he falls in love with the engineer, it’s clear he’s more in love with the idea of driving a train. Worse than that, she doesn’t get a name in her own right until the very end. It’s also far too long for such a thin story. Two stars.

The Girls on USSF 193, by Stephen Goldin

Astronauts are coming back from their tours of duty in space with weakened hearts, because they won’t do the cardiac exercises prescribed by the National Space Agency. Director Jess Hawkins came up with a plan that is dubious to say the least, morally questionable and probably illegal.

You sometimes hear the phrase “sexual revolution” about changing attitudes towards sex. In the past it’s sometimes meant being open about what people are doing anyway, and sometimes it’s about real changes in sexual attitudes. This story dabbles in the latter, but is highly implausible. It hinges on a career bureaucrat making a move that puts his job on the line, a job he knows others are gunning for.

Goldin is this month’s first time author. The writing here is decent, despite the implausible plot, but the attitudes towards women are deeply questionable. Two stars.

LONCON II or Through a Monocle? Darkly, by Robert Bloch

Bloch’s report on this year’s Worldcon was allegedly written on a hotel typewriter between the end of the con and his departure for home. I believe it. This rambling nonsense reads like it was written by a man short of sleep with his brain in a different time zone. You’ll learn much more about the con from our colleague Kris Vyas-Myall’s report. One star.

Mercury, by J. M. McFadden

Mercury is an alien predator with an unusual hunting style. She is captured by an expedition and brought to an Earth zoo. There will be consequences.

The story is quite obvious and depends on some rather stupid behavior, but it’s short and not a bad read despite all that. This is McFadden’s second sale, and I’m not averse to seeing more from him. Three stars.

Retief’s War (Part 3 of 3), by Keith Laumer

Retief continues his search for Fifi. Unable to find his army, he joins forces with the remaining Terries and prepares for a last stand against the Voion hordes. Rescue arrives at the last minute in the form of the Federated Quoppina army led by Fifi, who is none other than Retief’s cousin Princess Fianna Glorian Deliciosa Hermione Arianne de Retief et du Lille. A typical Retief plan is put together to save the rest of the CDT mission, knock Ikk and his Voions out of power, quash Groaci schemes and get Retief mostly out of trouble.


Tief-Tief rides to the rescue. Art by Gaughan

What a disappointing ending. A number of things happen that make little or no sense, but happen to move plot forward. Back in the first part, I noted that there was more room for things to develop, but Laumer seems to have run out of room anyway and it all rushes to a slam-bang ending. Two stars for this part and a very low three for the novel as a whole.

Summing up

There’s lots of revolution in these pages, political, industrial and sexual. But there’s nothing revolutionary. IF is by no means mired in the past like Analog and the outward forms often acknowledge the changes happening to the genre, but the bones are still those of a decade ago or more. IF is still worth reading, and Fred Pohl has never struck me as averse to change, but he really needs to pick one of his three magazines to at least experiment with bringing them into the 1960s and beyond.


Nothing here looks terribly new either.