Tag Archives: 1965

[September 22, 1965] Foul! (September Galactoscope)

This month's Galactoscope features a mixed bag of mixed bags: one Ace double and one Gamma that barely manages a solitary single…


By Jason Sacks

We, the Venusians, by John Rackham

I picked up the latest Ace Double Novel at my local Woolworth's the other day, and had to share my opinions of the two novels with my fine science fiction friends.

On one side of the double was the deliriously wacky cover shown below, which actually is a scene in John Rackham's meandering but intriguing new novel. By my reckoning, this is at least the third Ace double this prolific author has delivered over the last two years, and though I haven't read either Watch on Peter or Danger from Vega yet, this slim novel – a true Ace double at 137 pages – makes me want to try them out too.

The main character of We, the Venusians is Anthony Taylor, a man who feels himself out of place on a future version of Earth. Though the timing of that future isn't revealed in the novel, it's clear he lives in a bit of a dystopian world. Advertising is pervasive and unavoidable, commerce and greed rule the world, and the arts are trivialized and mocked.

This all matters because Taylor is an accomplished musician and the owner of a small club in which he plays Liszt, Schubert, Bach and the other classical artists to an ever-diminishing tribe of listeners. He is truly a man on the outside of his time. That's why he has a mixed reaction when a strange man wanders into Taylor's club and offers an obscene amount of money to travel to the Terran colony on Venus to play music, Taylor is both intrigued and repulsed by the opportunity.  He is intrigued by chance to get rich quick and the chance to make a new start. Taylor is also repulsed by the idea because he has a secret he fears will be revealed on his new home: though his skin appears human color, he is actually a Greenie, a green-skinned Venusian native.

Through a series of plot machinations, Taylor does end up journeying to Venus along with two other musicians, one of whom, named Martha Merrill, is a beautiful woman who possesses an unbelievable singing voice. They also discover that the human colonists have enslaved thousands of apparently mindless Greenies to do menial labor in order to keep the colony buzzing along. Taylor and Merrill escape the human domes into the native lands, and both performers literally go native – Martha is also secretly a Venusian.

Though Merrill soon dies, Taylor finds his destiny among his own people and ends up becoming a force for revolution among his adopted people against the colonists.

One of the most intriguing elements of the book is the beans which grow on Venus and provide nutrition and energy for the people living there. While the Venusians protect their precious resource carefully, the humans try to exploit the beans and export the incredibly valuable food back to Terra. This element of the plot had an intriguing post-colonial feel to it. It's easy for the reader to substitute tobacco or silk as the exploited resource in our own history. It's a smart choice by Rackham to bring in that idea, as it adds resonance and contrast to the human/greenie struggle.

We, the Venusians is full of interesting ideas, from its resonances to the Civil Rights movement of today to its treatment of Indians in the west to the ways pop music overwhelms classics. Rackham keeps his story focused on character, and that keeps the reader involved in this novel. I enjoyed reading how Anthony Taylor grows and changes as this book goes along, and that growth gives this book a lot of its energy.

That said, the book rambles and wanders a bit too much and seems to frequently lose its focus. I know it's anathema to us fans of Ace doubles, but another 20 pages of meat would have made this book's bones stronger.

3 stars.

The Water of Thought, by Fred Saberhagen

Fred Saberhagen is another science fiction writer who has settled into a journeyman status at this point. He's appeared in a number of the science fiction magazines in recent years, and his "Berserker" stories have started to gain more attention from aficionados. My colleague David Levinson has praised Saberhagen's ability to pull off modern fiction within the framework of space opera, and that skill is well on display in The Water of Thought.

Like We, the Venusians, Saberhagen's novel takes place on an alien planet on which native peoples are in conflict with Terrans. The planet Kappa is a kind of garden of Eden, a paradise and perfect place for rest and relaxation for exhausted Space Force planeteers. It's also the home to native peoples and a type of water which provides amazing changes in people. When a planeteer named Jones samples the water, he goes crazy and disappears from the colony. Planeteer Boris Brazil must follow to investigate.

Jones becomes megalomaniacal under the influence of the "water of thought", and rapidly becomes an addict. Jones is constantly seeking his next drink, like a heroin addict looking for his next fix. When Jones forces Brazil to drink the water, it has a different effect on him. Brazil is nearly paralyzed and loses his free will while in proximity to Jones, but does not become addicted. The battle between the two men, and the story of the humans and natives caught in the middle, is an important part of the book.

Like We the Venusians, this book has a natural resource as a key point of conflict between humans and Kappans as the water is seen by some as a resource to be exploited for personal gain. The human mayor of Kappa sells the water as a drug, trying to earn a neat profit off of a local resource. Meanwhile a human scientist has slightly more noble goals: he believes the water may help the local hominid species gain intelligence and gain their freedom from slavery by the natives.

The Water of Thought is a more complex book than it seems at first glance, and reveals some of the shallowness of Rackham's world. Where Rackham draws a pretty clear line between humans and greenies on Venus, Saberhagen presents Kappa as a more complex world. Kappa is a place where the lines between hero and villain are somewhat unclear, where everybody is exploiting each other in some ways, and in which the precious natural resource has ambiguous effects.

This book adroitly shows Saberhagen's skills at mixing space opera elements with a psychological and philosophical elements. The Water of Thought feels contemporary for our year of 1965, a time in which the smartest people are embracing ideas of the past but providing new approaches to those ideas.

4 stars.


Gamma #5: The Worst Sci-fi Magazine Ever Published?


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

Back in the early 1950s, when the market was flooded with magazines, there used to be plenty of forgettable magazines that would crank out terrible stories. Whilst it may be possible my memory is cheating me, I cannot recall a single issue as awful as this issue of Gamma:

Gamma Cover

This terrible issue of Gamma starts as it means to go on with another lurid cover from John Healey. I had hoped the style from the last issue was just due to it being a special edition calling back to the 30s, apparently this is the direction the magazine is going, with it illustrating the lead novella.

John Healey himself is a talented artist apparently working on shows like Johnny Quest, so I more question the editorial choice than his skill.

Now, take a deep breath, and let us all work together to get through this issue:

Nesbit, by Ron Goulart

Taking up nearly half the magazine, the perpetually disappointing Ron Goulart returns as, apparently, the editors simply cannot resist his writing. Once again, I find my eyebrow raised at this assertion.

This novella follows an attempt to shoot a pilot for a “jungle series”. When the Hollywood lot turns out to be in use Tim McCarey goes to visit Vincent Belgraf’s estate, to convince him to let them use his transplanted jungle for the shoot. However, on arriving he cannot get ahold of Mr. Belgraf and the other residents tell him it is not for rent.

Tim believes something else is amiss and finds a gorilla running around the estate in a soldier’s outfit. It turns out that this is Nesbit Belgraf. After being attacked by his own private army he had his brain transplanted into that of a gorilla, so he will be strong enough to become emperor of the United States and battle the unseen forces secretly controlling everyone’s lives.

Whilst Tim does not agree with this fascist conspiracy-minded gorilla and his family, he agrees to help with his propaganda efforts in exchange for being able to use part of the jungle for filming. However, Nesbit is very emotional and has difficulty keeping his cool.

I have trouble working out what Goulart is trying to do with this piece. If it is a satire on fascism and right-wing conspiracy theories, it fails. For, apart from Nesbit being a gorilla, it feels more like a documentary piece, as I am fully aware of the existence of those who believe in Jewish-Communist conspiracies controlling the world. It never does anything to really contradict what the Brelgrafs say, nor even to particularly suggest that their plans to put all non-white people into concentration camps or exterminate them, is as horrific as it really is.

If it is trying to be just an adventure story, it also fails. Intelligent gorilla stories are two-a-penny in comic books but are usually mindlessly enjoyable. This is incredibly dull and padded, full of side details that another might make charming, yet Goulart makes unbelievably tedious.

I could imagine many interesting ways a more skilled writer could have taken this piece, but instead Goulart produces something truly dreadful.

An exceptionally low One Star.

Policy Conference, by Sylvia Dees and Ted White

Peter and The Chief meet in the latter’s office to discuss how they could improve “interregional relations” for their boss Old Nick (I offer no prizes for guessing who that actually is).

Whilst this story is more supernatural than science fictional it weirdly has the same conceit as the previous tale, of someone having to work on PR for a monster. It just helps highlight how unoriginal a concept this is. Mercifully, this one is very short.

One Star

Gamma
We get the return of the unrelated sketches. Depressingly they are better than the actual text.

Auto Suggestion, by Charles Beaumont

Returning from the earlier issues of Gamma (publishing the best story in issue 1) The Twilight Zone writer brings a story of automobiles. Unfortunately, this is definitely not his best work.

Abnar Llewellyn, a nervous driver, suddenly finds his car talking to him and it encourages him to be a more aggressive on the roads. It also starts to interfere in other areas on Abnar’s life, asking out women for him and instructing him on how to commit crimes.

I have gone on record saying I am no lover of cars, and so tales like this generally leave me cold. However, even accounting for that, I felt the story was bad. It is painfully overwritten to the point of being juvenile:

A truck’s air horn began some car lengths away. A frightening sound, a terrible sound, like the scream of a wounded elephant, and it led other smaller cars to renew their anger, shrill now beneath the dump-truck’s might below, shrill and chittering, like arboreal creatures gone mad.

Even Lovecraft would probably tell him he needed to cut out some description!

It also ends up not doing anything particularly interesting, just being a story where the protagonist does unpleasant things and may or may not be insane.

One Star

Welcome to Procyon IV, by Chester H. Carlfi

This is not a new writer to these pages but, rather, another story by longtime editor Charles E. Fritch, contributing his 4th story to the magazine.

In this vignette, Jameson and his wife are the last people left alive on the dead world of Porycon IV, with humans having wiped out the natives and disease killing the rest of the human population. On his ancient radio Jameson hears a human expedition coming but when they come to in to his cabin they discover a terrible truth about Jameson’s wife.

This feels like a pale imitation of Ray Bradbury’s Martian stories. It is more competent than the previous two pieces in the magazine, but a lot remains heavily unexplained. Also including a genocide in one line without any further thought left a bad taste in my mouth.

One and a half stars

Interest, by Richard Matheson

Cathryn is to be married to Gerald Cruickshank, yet find his parents and their house terrifying. However, she cannot work out why that is.

As stated in the introduction, this is a Poe-esque tale, although the purpose of it escapes me. Feels more like a derivative work you would find in a bad fanzine.

One Star

Gamma
Another sketch, holding my interest much more than Matheson’s story did.

Lullaby and Goodnight, by George Clayton Johnson

In the aftermath of a nuclear war, an outpost of shelters is setup outside of an unnamed city. Our narrator (also unnamed) talks about the trouble Sarah Hartman is having with trying to keep her baby Adam alive in the radiation-soaked world.

This vignette marks a short foray into the New Wave from the usually conservative Gamma. It is not the best example, but the melancholic atmosphere raises it above the rest of the stories here.

Three stars

Gamma
An ad for Jack Matcha’s “adult novel”

A Careful Man Dies, by Ray Bradbury

This is a reprint from New Detective Magazine from almost 19 years ago and, unfortunately, it shows.

It narrates the story of a haemophiliac author, named Rob, who keeps being sent sharp objects in the mail, in an attempt to stop his book from being published.

I know Bradbury is popular right now, but do we have to reprint everything he did in his early days? The truth is he has evolved as a writer and most of his work before 1950 is simply not that good!

This is not really a science fiction or fantasy piece, but I suppose it could be classified as uncanny horror. Unfortunately, it lacks anything interesting, it seems more like a sequence of unusual events, like reading someone’s disconnected nightmare.

The story is written in a pale imitation of Raymond Chandler’s hard-boiled style along with a second person narration. Whilst I do like experimentation this one fails for me.

Two stars

The Late Mr. Adams, by Steve Allen

Another reprint, this time from the publisher’s own collection, Fourteen for Tonight. This is my first experience with Mr. Adams' writings myself, although I hear he is big television personality in the United States.

This is a very silly life-story of a man who is always late. Really, that is all there is to it.

One Star

Wet Season, by Dennis Etchison

Etchison is generally a middling new writer. Shows promise but I am still waiting for a story that astounds me. Unfortunately, this is not it.

In a town there have been an unusually high number of drownings and the women seem to be acting strangely. At the same time rainfall levels are apparently increasing. After Madden’s daughter dies his Brother Bart comes to tell him of his suspicions.

Etchison really seems to like his Puppet Masters style stories and this is another one in that mold. I am willing to concede that it has a good atmosphere but that is all I am going to give.

A low two stars

Gamma Image 5
I love this illustration. Why couldn’t this have been one of the pieces inside?

Summing Up

This issue of the magazine is truly terrible. Some stories are not as bad as the others, but it would be a stretch to say anything is actually good.

I am beginning to feel foolish that I took out a subscription from issue 2, as I have already paid for more of these. However, if the quality continues like this, I find it hard to imagine this magazine continuing much beyond that.


That's all for today, folks! Join us next month for another exciting Galactoscope!

and…

Our next Journey Show: At the Movies, is going to be a blast!

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[September 20, 1965] Unfinished Business (October Fantasy and Science Fiction)


by Gideon Marcus

Leaving things hanging

There's something compelling about things left incomplete – from Schubert's Unfinished Symphony to President Kennedy's first term.  In the gaps of what could have been, we can fill in countless possibilities rather than just the one.

This month's Fantasy and Science Fiction (like this month's Galaxy, an "All-Star" anniverary issue) trades almost exclusively in incompletes, its pieces ending in ellipses dots rather than hard stops.

Does this make for an effective magazine?  Let's dig in and find out:

Beginnings…


by Chesley Bonestell

… And Call Me Conrad (Part 1 of 2), by Roger Zelazny

Hundreds of years from now, a war-ravaged, radiation-scoured Earth is little more than a colony of the blue-skinned Vegans who lease our planet out of historical curiosity.  Humanity is much reduced, confined to the former backwaters of civilization. 

Against this backdrop, we are introduced to Conrad Nomikos, head of the world's antiquities preservation bureau, who is tapped to escort a Vegan journalist as the alien gathers information for a travelogue of blasted Earth.

But there is far more to Conrad than he likes to let on.  Something of a rogue, and possessed of pretenatural strength, skills, and psychic abilities, he is actually Konstantin Karaghiosis – mutated into a Methusaleh by radiation and erstwhile leader of a radical anti-Vegan colonial movement that had, decades before, spiked Vegan ambitions to take all of Earth.

Now Conrad finds himself embroiled in multiple intertwined plots as the Vegan journalist becomes the target of an assassination attempt, his mission to Earth having a more significant goal than just a John Gunther volume.  Conrad, too, is personally imperiled, though who wants him dead and why are open questions.

This first part of a serial leaves off just as the second attempt on Conrad's life (if such they were; he cannot be certain) has failed.  It looks as if Conrad may well have to resume the revolutionary mantle of Konstantin to navigate the crisis.

Zelazny can sometimes be a tough pill for me to swallow.  One of the Journey's regular readers observed that he's done more than any current SF writer to bring Hemingway to our genre, and I feel that Roger sometimes trades readability for that stylistic choice.  That said, after a somewhat plodding beginning, the fleshed out background and advanced storyline becomes quite compelling.

Call it three stars for now, but with potential for the ending (if and when it come) to raise things retrospectively.

Mirror, Mirror, by Avram Davidson

Milquetoasty fan of A. Merritt spends his spare hours scouring local second-hand shops for jade mirrors with which to escape our reality into something more fantastical and swashbuckling.  What he doesn't count on is someone from another reality with a similar passion finding their way to his world.

As a premise, it's a fantastic mirror to works like The Incomplete Enchanter.  As a vignette, however, it suffers for an overlong beginning (relative to the length of the piece) and the lack of a real resolution.  In this case, unfinished means unsatisfying.

Three stars.


by Gahan Wilson

(here's a rather pointless doodle by Mr. Wilson, one that doesn't even pertain to our genre; the reason for its inclusion escapes me)

The Future, Its Promoters and False Prophets by E. Brandis and V. Dmitrevskiy, and
Replies by Poul Anderson and Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury and Mack Reynolds

Here's an interesting piece: a critique of American science fiction by two Soviets followed by replies by the authors specifically mentioned (including reference to Asimov's foreword to More Soviet Science Fiction).  It makes for a fascinating debate, one that is clearly ongoing.  I hope F&SF continues to cover it.

Five stars.

No Jokes on Mars, by James Blish

A journalist is sent to the Red Planet to check up on a colleague whose work has become perfunctory and cynical.  While on a tour of the Martian wilderness, her escorts poach a pomander from the pouch of a native dune-cat; the aromatic ball is of high value on Earth as a perfumed ornament, but its heist dooms the Martian creatures (who prove to be sentient) to a slow death.  Can she make it off Mars with the story?

It's a good story, but it suffers both for its 1950s depiction of Mars and the extremely sudden ending, which I ended up reading several times, wondering if I'd missed a paragraph or two somewhere.  Here, the unfinished nature left me wanting rather than dreaming.

Three stars.

The Glorious Fourth, by Jack Sharkey

Three astronauts from Earth land on an Eden teeming with an ecology so vigorous that its creatures refuse to die.  One of the crew, despairing of service under the martinet captain, goes native – literally.  And while the process is pleasant for him, the interaction between the remaining two and the planet's life forms is ultimately less enjoyable.

Jack Sharkey's byline is one I'm normally wary of, but he delivers a decent story here, and the vague ending, only hinting at the horrors the two spacemen will face (and the reason for their unpleasantness), is effective.

Three stars.

Minutes of A Meeting At The Mitre, by Robert F. Young

Old Nick meets Samuel Johnson.  With a punchline telegraphed from the beginning, the only motivation for this piece seems to be Young's desire to do a Boswell pastiche. 

Well, the story may have finished, but it's clear that the hoary "Deal with the Devil" subgenre of fantasy is not.

Two stars.

The Land of Mu, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor picks up where he left in his elementary physical particles, this time discussing the differences between electrons and mu mesons (muons).  It's an absolutely fascinating piece, and it's very clear from its conclusion that there is still so very much we don't know about the universe's tiniest components.

Five stars.

Something Else, by Robert J. Tilley

A punctilious, nature-hating music professor crashlands on a deserted planet with only a clarinet and box of jazz music spools to keep him company.  Well, not quite deserted: there is also a solitary shaggy alien with the ability to mimic music perfectly.  Thus begins an interspecies friendship.

Perhaps intentionally, the ultimate story in this collection does have a definite ending, which is sadly to its detriment.  Rather than building to some kind of revelatory peak offering some sort of interesting insight on the human condition, there is, instead, a pointless downer of a conclusion, better suited to a lesser episode of The Twilight Zone.  Tilley, the piece's author, is also about 20% more wordy than he needs to be.

Three stars.

Endings?

I would say that this month's reliance on the unfinished story had mixed results.  However, at the very least, I am now looking forward to the conclusion of the Zelazny piece; at most, I find my thoughts returning to the other uncertain endings, imagining the myriad outcomes that might have better resolved these otherwise unsettled lines.

Art reflects reality indeed!



Our next Journey Show: At the Movies, is going to be a blast!

DON'T MISS IT!




[September 18, 1965] Disastrous! (The Day the Earth Stood Still and When Worlds Collide)


by Lorelei Marcus

Dark Age for the Boob Tube

Mop-tops and Munsters are on the rise, replacing the theoretical with the fantastical.  With the end of pioneering anthology shows like The Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits, television has transformed into a wasteland for science fiction.  Gone are the prospective and predictive contents depicting the wonders of space, sea, and air.  Instead, we have spies, saIlors, and sorceresses clogging our TV screens – with mixed results.

But there is hope for the science fiction aficionados of the world.  Upcoming productions like Lost in Space and Star Trek hold promise for the revitalization of the genre on TV.  My father and I are both eagerly awaiting this new dawn.  However, Lost in Space is just starting, and Star Trek is at least four months away (there is rumor of it being a mid-season replacement starting in January 1966). 

Luckily, there is a plethora of now-classic science fiction movies that came out in the last decade that we missed the first time around, but which are occasionally revived at theaters and drive-ins.  These shows allow us to sate our viewing appetite while we wait for the TV crop to come in.

That's how we ended up in a dingy old theater on the edge of town watching a double feature billed as "They Came from 1951!" – The Day the Earth Stood Still and When Worlds Collide shown back to back.  It was an interesting experience, to say the least.

The Day the Earth Stood Still

The story of The Day the Earth Stood Still is probably well known to everyone.  However, since my dad and I managed to go in completely unaware of anything about the movie, other than what we could discern from the poster, here's a brief summary:

The Day the Earth Stood Still is a black and white film about an alien named Klaatu who comes to Earth in a flying saucer (those being all the rage in 1951) to deliver a momentous message to humanity.  He looks just like us despite having traveled more than 250 million miles to get to the Earth.


To be fair, Klaatu could have picked a less menacing gesture to start with.


It's a good thing that tank crew had pistols!

After a hostile reception, Klaatu refuses to convey his message to anyone but an assemblage of all the world's leaders.  When this proves impossible for primitive Earth to manage, Klaatu escapes military custody and tries to assimilate with human society so as to find an alternate solution.


Wow!  Bill aids owner on foreclosure!


"Land sakes!  There's an alien among us!  Better not tell Opie – it'll give him nightmares…"

Hysteria ensues as the media report on the unleashing of a twisted, horrific alien monster on the streets of D.C.  With the aid of a boy, his mother, and a scientist, Klaatu must find a way to connect with all of humanity, while dodging the agents of the U.S. Government, to prevent the destruction of our world – which will happen one way or another if Earth does not cease its warlike ways.


"I'd like to meet all of your assembled leaders." "Oh, you mean like a United Nations?" "Sure." "Nah.  Too much trouble."

Ultimately, the film is a cautionary tale which left me with two overriding messages: "Don't shoot on sight" and "Listen to children, women, and scientists" (scientists can be of any gender). 


"Are you a scientist?"  "What gave it away?"

I actually appreciate what this movie was trying to say, but its execution was so heavy-handed, populated with more straw men than Iowa, it weakened the message.  The US military is portrayed as so hilariously incompetent, it creates inconsistencies in the plot.  I'm left wondering how the army can afford to send every jeep and tank in its arsenal to capture Klaatu but only leaves two men to guard his spaceship.  What could have been a nuanced social commentary on the moral ambiguity of the U.S. Government's policies turns into a laughable mess. 


"Night, Tom…Jerry.  I'm sure you two will be just fine guarding that spaceship next to the big robot!"


There's the rest of the army.  A bit too late…

The science is slightly better, though the idea there could be advanced life on other planets in our solar system feels incredibly old fashioned in light of the recent Mariner mission. [The distance he traveled suggests he came from Mars, but he may not be a Martian – there may simply be an alien outpost on Mars (ed.)]

However, the movie did get the special effects and set design right.  I was particularly impressed by the slick interior of the spaceship.  The glowing buttons and glass instruments are both beautiful and the embodiment of the science fiction aesthetic. 


The latest in blinky light and glass chic!

I was also entertained by the design of Gort, Klaatu's all-powerful robot.  While silver mittens and underwear over a metallic motorcycle suit would not have been my first fashion choice, it's charming none the less.


"I'd like to say it's been a pleasure, but…"

The acting and pacing were fine.  I especially enjoyed the performance of Patricia Neal, the tough mother character, and also Michael Rennie (clearly inspired by Robert Oppenheimer).  Young Billy Gray is good too, more remiscent of Kurt Russell than Ron Howard. 


You know that awkward moment when you're stuck in an elevator with a stranger?


"I like this guy.  He seems like a good guy.  Find me more like him."

In total, the movie was a thoroughly OK experience.  It could have done a lot better in many places, but in the end, it did make an effort, which is more than can be said for many SF films these days.

Three stars

When Worlds Collide

When Worlds Collide's title literally exploded across the movie screen with tongues of flames blazing in glorious color accompanied by a screeching score.  No five year olds were wriggling in their seats anymore.  With an intro like that, and with producer George Pal's name in big print, this move held real promise…

…and then the camera zoomed on a giant Bible, which flipped to a passage from the tale of Noah's Ark, to keep us from missing the theme of the movie. 


Apparently, subtlety wasn't a widely known concept in the early '50s.

But I still had hope.  After the dramatic introduction, the story began in a South African observatory in which an astromer glances through a telescope and realizes that, by God, he's confirmed the end of the world!


"You see it too, right, old chap?"

Dave Randall, professional aviator and the movie's protagonist, is ordered to deliver these findings in complete secrecy to an astronomer in the United States.  Upon doing so, and meeting said astronomer's lovely daughter, he is let in on the secret: Bellus, a "star" (just twelve times more massive than the Earth) and its lone Earthlike planet, Zyra, are on a direct collision course with our world.  We have only eight months to prepare.


"My, you are dull!"

I turned to my father, who is much more knowledgeable of orbital mechanics than I am, and asked, "Is that even possible?"  To which he responded, "No."  And then all the five year olds turned around and shushed us.

This was only the first of many such instances in this movie.  Willy Ley, it isn't.

The astronomer presents this information to the United Nations and claims the only hope is building a spacecraft to fly to Zyra before Bellus destroys the Earth.  The UN quite literally laughs in the astronomer's face, and thus he turns instead to private investors to make the Modern Noah's Ark a reality.


"Sit down, Mr. Addison!  And shut that talking horse up while you're at it!"


New at Walt Disney's Tomorrowland!

Some of the investors provide their funds freely, but one rich man only backs the project after securing the promise of passage on the ark.  The ensuing scenes of candidate selection for the engineering team and the commencement of ark construction are intertwined with a typical love triangle between Randall, the astronomer's colorless daughter, and her fiancee, Tony.  These bits fall flat; indeed, by the end of the movie, Tony and Randall have far more chemistry with each other than the daughter.  And you can imagine the dismay I felt at hearing the names "Tony" and "Randall," yet knowing that the person bearing both of those names was nowhere to be seen.


Tony & Randall: the sparks fly.

And that isn't the worst part of the movie!  The story is progressively more convoluted and unbelievable (and worse, rather dull).  The selection of the Ark's passengers becomes increasingly arbitrary despite the earlier emphasis given on relying on a random lottery.  The science is atrocious, the characters shallow, the dialogue lousy. 


"Sure, space is at a premium, but let's take this tyke and his dog!


"And this couple! I mean, they're in love and all!


"But this guy?  I know he paid for all of this, but he's a jerk.  He needs to die."


"Mein Fuhrer!  I can walk!"

But the film's biggest fault, out of everything, is its lack of vision.  If The Day the Earth Stood Still is a progressive film, When World's Collide is reactionary.  The women passengers/technicians and the all-male engineer corps are always segregated.  All of the passengers are strapping young college students.  All seem to be of a similar class.  And they are all white.


The audience at this point in the film.

I can understand wanting young candidates to weather the harshness of space travel, but to exclusively choose young colonists discounts the immense wisdom and knowledge held by the old.  The men and women colonists are equal in number, but that has nothing to do with the scientific prowess of the women; rather, this is just to ensure that every man has a wife.

And even setting aside the morality of excluding all but the lily white from the candidate pool, it's a fatal mistake biologically.  If a colony can only start with 40 people, it needs as diverse a gene pool as possible to prevent the perils of inbreeding.

Never mind that.  What's important is that a small cadre of white, rich, Christian youngsters inherits the mantle of humanity.

When Worlds Collide is a celebration of the worst parts of society in the 1950s.  I can look past the bad acting.  I can look past the gratuitous religious imagery.  And I can even ignore the fact that the completely alien world has perfectly breathable air.  But I cannot excuse the lazy and offensive message this film chose to convey.

The only thing that keeps this movie from getting a one-star rank is its production values.  The special effects are incredible, with some of the best painted backgrounds I have ever seen in a movie.  The Earth's destruction sequences are also good, what little we get of them.  For a movie about the end of our entire world, George Pal spent an awful long time filming the inside of a shaking office set… Nevertheless, judged on visuals alone, When Worlds Collide is impressive.


What we paid to see.

If only it weren't so terrible everywhere else.

Two stars.

Emerging into the Light

Kvetching aside, I don't regret watching either of these two movies.  It gave me a great perspective on the history of science fiction on the silver screen, and it was interesting noting the impact of these two blockbusters on subsequent stories, both on television and in the movies.  I'm particularly keen to see if any elements of these movies live on in upcoming releases, from Roddenberry's Star Trek to Kubrick's upcoming 2001 (formerly Journey Beyond the Stars).  Only time will tell.  Until then,

This is the Young Traveler, signing off.



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[September 16, 1965] Blessed Are The Peacemakers (November 1965 Worlds of Tomorrow)


by Victoria Silverwolf

Ain't Gonna Study War No More

As my esteemed colleague David Levinson recently noted, war is currently raging, as it so often does, in various places around the globe. Fortunately, voices are beginning to be raised against this lamentably common human evil.


Benjamin Spock, the famous baby doctor, leads a group of folks protesting the conflict in Vietnam on a march to the United Nations in April of this year.

Whether these peace-loving people will have any effect on the escalating presence of American forces in Southeast Asia remains to be seen. Meanwhile, we can turn to the pages of the latest issue of Worlds of Tomorrow for a fictional look at an unusual way to change war into peace.

They Shall Beat Their Swords Into Plowshares


The cover reproduces, in shrunken and edited form, various illustrations from the pen of Virgil Finlay, subject of an article within the magazine. I recognize the one in the middle, showing the face of a ape-man, as coming from the January 1965 issue. Maybe some of you clever readers can tell me the sources of the others.

Project Plowshare (Part One of Two), by Philip K. Dick


Illustrations by Gray Morrow. I don't know if that artist also came up with the rather eccentric, pseudo-archaic introductory paragraph shown here. Maybe it's the work of the author, or possibly editor Frederik Pohl. In any case, it's very odd, not really in keeping with the mood of the novel.

The time is the early twenty-first century. There are references to space travel within the solar system, but that's way in the background. We have the usual flying cars and such that we're used to in tales of the fairly near future.


Like I said, flying cars. Also, people wear capes and funny-looking hats.

Our main character — I can't really call him the hero — is one Lars Powderdry. I assume his peculiar name is an allusion to the phrase keep your powder dry, attributed to Oliver Cromwell. The intent must be ironic, as Lars does the exact opposite of getting ready for battle (the literal meaning) and is not otherwise prepared for future events (the metaphoric meaning.)

That requires some explanation. You see, Lars has a most peculiar job. He's a weapons fashion designer. This is even weirder than it sounds. It involves going into a trance, with the aid of mind-altering drugs, in order to enhance his natural psychic abilities. While in this state, he perceives images of complex designs for very strange weapons. These are passed along to military folks, who in turn give them to manufacturers.

Why, then, do I say that Lars is not keeping his powder dry? That's because the so-called weapons are nothing of the kind. The elites make the ordinary folks think they are, but in reality the designs are used to make unusual consumer products, generally of a trivial, frivolous nature.


Here's an example, taken from a sidebar in the magazine. Again, I don't know if this is the work of the author or the editor.

In order to fool the public, the manufacturers produce faked films showing the phony weapons in action. This situation came about because of a secret agreement between the two sides in the Cold War. The ignorant masses believe their governments are ready to attack the other side, while their rulers avoid the possibility of a real, destructive war.


An example of the deception in action. The zombie-like guys, supposedly criminals subjected to the mind-destroying guns shown here, are really robots.

Lars has a counterpart on the other side, a woman named Lilo Topchev. Although he doesn't know anything about her, having only seen a photograph so blurry that it doesn't reveal anything at all, he feels an unexplained attraction to her. (The author doesn't say, but maybe this has something to do with their extrasensory powers.)

There's another woman in his life as well. Maren Faine runs the Paris office of his weapons fashion house. She's also his mistress. They annoy each other much of the time, but there seems to be genuine affection between the two. Their relationship has a touch of sadomasochism to it. Maren enjoys mocking her lover, who is well aware that he's not as smart as she is.


Maren Faine. The artist nicely captures her personality. Intelligent, capable, self-assured, cynical, and maybe a little bit cruel.

While visiting her in Paris, Lars finds a device made from one of the ersatz weapons he dreams up in his trance states. The gizmo is a sphere that answers questions. For most people, it's just a toy, sort of like a super-fancy version of those Magic 8 Ball things most of us have fooled around with.


Did I have one of these things? Reply hazy, try again later.

Lars treats the sphere more seriously, asking it about himself. He gets some uncomfortable answers, discovering that his reservations about the way he's helping the elite deceive the public aren't really a matter of ethics, but due to his own fears of losing his psychic powers.


Lars and the mechanical oracle.

As if that were not enough of a painful look into his soul, Maren is a bit psychic herself, able to detect her lover's subconscious emotions. She knows about his obsession with Lilo, for example, explaining it in Freudian terms.

Things get complicated when satellites appear in orbit, not launched by either side. Robots sent to investigate the objects are destroyed. The assumption is that they are the work of hostile aliens. Faced with the possibility of an attack by extraterrestrials, the elite bring Lars and Lilo together in Iceland. Their mission is clear. Work together, using their psychic abilities to come up with a design for a real weapon, or face the consequences.


An agent for the other side shows Lars what the consequences will be.

There's lots of other stuff I haven't mentioned. In particular, an important subplot involves an unpleasant fellow named Surley G. Febbs, who is drafted to become one of the six average citizens who work with the military, dealing with the designs envisioned by Lars. It's not yet clear what part he'll play in the plot, but I suspect it will be a vital one.

Although not a comedy, there's a strong satiric edge to this novel. Both sides in the bloodless Cold War engage the services of the same private espionage agency, which gives them just enough information to keep them paying for more.

The many characters are complex and varied, with flaws and quirks that make them seem real. (A notable exception: There's one minor character whose only function seems to be to have the author describe her breasts.) I'm definitely interested enough to wonder what's going to happen two months from now.

Four stars.

Me, Myself, and Us, by Michael Girdansky

This nonfiction article deals with the connections between the two halves of the brain, and what happens when they are cut. The author goes on to describe a highly speculative way in which to give someone two separate personalities in one body, making reference to the well-known story Beyond Bedlam by Wyman Guin. The suggestion is that such a person would be the perfect spy.


Cover art by Emsh.

Although there's some interesting information here, I found it distressing to read. Not only is the suggested creation of a human being with two minds disturbing, but the author describes real surgical experiments on animals that are horrifying. Maybe that's only my squeamishness, but I wish he had just talked about those unfortunate people who have had the link between the hemispheres of their brains severed.

Two stars.

Last of a Noble Breed, by Mack Reynolds


Illustrations by Normal Nodel.

We begin in the city of Estoril, Portugal, a luxurious resort community. A couple married for only six months is there for business as well as pleasure. The husband, a nuclear engineer, is trying to win a position by meeting with various members of the European upper class.

In this future world, being an aristocrat is vital to one's success. Annoyed by the snobs and a little drunk, the man half-jokingly announces that his wife's grandmother was the hereditary Sachem of the Cherokees, which is true enough. This leads to a worldwide movement to have the United States government restore tribal lands to her people, even though the woman is only one-quarter Cherokee, at most. (Her grandmother, whom she met exactly once, might not have been one hundred percent Cherokee.)


Uncle Sam faces a problem. I'm not sure what that sign is supposed to say. Unfair to what? Queens? That doesn't make sense, as a Sachem is not at all a monarch.

This isn't the most plausible premise in the world, even for a comedy. There are some enjoyable bits of satire, and the author provides some accurate information about the Cherokee people, as far as I can tell. But the lighthearted mood doesn't match well with the truly tragic history of the Cherokees. The husband has a habit of calling his wife a squaw, which annoys me as much as it does her.

Two stars.

The Sightseers, by Thomas M. Disch

Rich people have themselves placed in suspended animation for thousands of years at a time, emerging to enjoy a lavish lifestyle for a while, then jumping back inside their time capsule. Oddly, things never seem to change. These time tourists stick to the fabulous hotels and restaurants that cater to them, which remain unaltered over millennia.

The only other people they encounter are the Nubians who serve their every whim. The suspension device breaks down, and a couple of the tourists, more curious than their much older consorts, investigate the world outside their sumptuous lodgings.

You'll probably predict the true nature of the Nubians, and why vast amounts of time appear to have no effect on the world. Although there are no surprises, the story is decently written. Disch has a knack for this kind of sardonic tale.

Three stars.

Virgil Finlay, Dean of Science Fiction Artists, by Sam Moskowitz

Here's a detailed biography and account of the career of a great talent. I don't know where the author dug up all of this information, but you'll learn a heck of a lot about the artist's life and work. There's only one problem.

No illustrations!

I know there are probably legal and budgetary reasons why this article doesn't include any examples of Finlay's drawings, but it's really frustrating to read about his artwork and not see it. In particular, Finlay's illustration for Robert Bloch's story The Faceless Gods, from the May 1936 issue of Weird Tales, is talked about quite a bit. We're told that readers were excited by it, and that H. P Lovecraft even wrote a poem about it. At least we get half of the poem, but we have no clue what the illustration looked like.

To save you from the same agony I underwent, I dug deep into piles of moldering old pulps and pulled out the drawing, as well as the complete poem. You're welcome.

Two stars.

Worldmaster, by Keith Laumer


Illustrations by John Giunta.

The narrator is the sole survivor of a huge space battle. Both sides were completely destroyed. It turns out that this was deliberate on the part of the admiral who directed his side of the battle. He held back his gigantic flagship, which would have won a victory without the loss of the other vessels in his fleet.

His plan is to return to Earth in command of the only remaining warship, and thus take control of the planet. (Apparently this takes place at a time when the Cold War has heated up, but only in space. We're told that planetary forces are of little importance.)


And there are flying cars.

He offers the narrator the opportunity to join him, but our hero refuses. A couple of goons try to kill him, but he overpowers them and manages to get back to Earth through trickery. What follows is a series of chases and fight scenes, as the narrator tries to stop the admiral's fiendish plan.


And there's a big fire.

Typical for the author in his action/adventure mode, this story moves at a breakneck pace, and features a protagonist who overcomes all obstacles with wits, fists, and not a little luck. It's an efficient example of that sort of thing.

Three stars.

Mother, Is the Battle Over?

We started off with peace disguised as war, and wound up with the aftermath of war. Was it worth fighting for? Well, Philip K. Dick's novel-in-progress definitely piques my interest, although I suspect it will not appeal to all tastes. The rest of the issue is something of a disappointment, like a hasty retreat after an inconclusive skirmish. At least the only casualties of the conflicts inside these pages are imaginary ones. There are far too many in the real world. I wish you all peace.


The design scrawled on this guitar case, spotted on the campus of the University of California at Berkeley this year, was created by British pacifist Gerald Holtom, as a symbol for the nuclear disarmament movement. It has since shown up a lot of places, as a sign for peace in general. I like it.






[September 14, 1965] The Face is Familiar (October 1965 Galaxy)


by Gideon Marcus

In all the old familiar places…

All summer long, the Traveler family's television tradition has included the game show, Password.  Though it may seem odd that such a program should rival in importance to us such stand-outs as Secret Agent and Burke's Law, if you read my recent round-up of the excellent TV of the 64-65 season, you'll understand why we like the show.

Sadly, the September 9 episode marked the beginning of a hiatus and, perhaps, an outright cancellation of the show.  No more primetime Password, nor the daily afternoon editions either.  Whither host extraordinaire Allen Ludden?

Apparently, What's my Line!  Both Ludden and his wife, Betty White, were the mystery guests last week; I guess they had the free time.  They were absolutely charming together, and it's clear they are still very much in love two years into their marriage.

Speaking of anniversaries, Galaxy, one of the genre's most esteemed monthly digests, is celebrating its 15th.  To mark the occasion, editor Fred Pohl has assembled a table of contents contributed by some of the magazine's biggest names (though I note with sadness that neither Evelyn Smith nor Katherine MacLean are represented among them).  These "all-star" issues (as Fantasy and Science Fiction calls them) often fail to impress as much as ones larded with newer writers, but one never knows until one reads, does one?

So, without further ado, let's get stuck in and see how Galaxy is doing, fifteen years on:

The issue at hand


by John Pederson, Jr.

The Age of the Pussyfoot (Part 1 of 3), by Frederik Pohl

The editor of Galaxy has a penchant for providing a great deal of his own material to his magazines.  Normally, I'd be worried about this.  It could be a sign of an editor taking advantage of position to guarantee sale of work that might not cut the mustard.  And even if the work is worthy, there is the real danger of overcommitment when one takes on the double role of boss and employee.

That said, some editors just find creation too fun to give up (yours truly included) and in the case of Pohl, he usually turns in a good tale, as he has for decades, so I won't begrudge him the practice.

Indeed, Pussyfoot is a welcome addition to the mag.  A variation on the classic The Sleeper Awakes theme, in this case, the time traveling is done via the rather new technology of cryogenics.  Indeed, protagonist Charles Forester, 37-year old erstwhile fireman, is one of the very first corpses to be frozen circa 1969, and wakes up in the overcrowded but utopian world of 2527 A.D.


by Wallace Wood

Feeling immortal (with some justification – no one really dies anymore; they just get put on ice until they can be brought back, often within minutes) and also wealthy (but $250,000 doesn't stretch as far as it used to) Forester takes a while to really come to grips with his new situation, always just a touch too clueless for his own good, and perhaps plausibility.

Very quickly, he learns that things are not perfect in the future: being immortal means one can be murdered on a lark and the culprits go unpunished.  Inflation has rendered Forester's fortune valueless.  He must get a job, any job.  But the one he finds that will employ an unskilled applicant turns out to be the one no one wants: personal assistant to a disgusting alien!

There's some really good worldbuilding stuff in this story, particularly the little rod-shaped "joymakers" everyone carries that are telephone, computer terminal, personal assistant, drug dispenser, and more.  I also liked the inclusion of inflation, which is usually neglected in stories of the future.  It all reads a bit like a Sheckley story writ long, something Sheckley's always had trouble with.  It's not perfect, but it is fun and just serious enough to avoid being farce.

Four stars for now,

Inside Man, by H. L. Gold

The first editor of Galaxy started out as a writer, but even though he turned over the helm of his magazine four years ago (officially – it was probably earlier), he hasn't published in a long time, so it's exciting to see his byline again.  Inside Man is a nice, if nor particularly momentous, story about a fellow with a telepathy for machines.  And since machines are usually in some state of disrepair, it's not a very pleasant gift.

Three stars.

The Machines, Beyond Shylock, by Ray Bradbury

Judith Merril sums up Bradbury beautifully in this month's F&SF, describing him as the avatar of science fiction to the lay population, but deemed a mixed bag by the genre community.  His short poem, about how the human spirit will always have something robots do not, is typically oversentimental and not a little opaque.  And it's not just the font Pohl used.

Two stars.

Fifteen Years of Galaxy — Thirteen Years of F.Y.I., by Willy Ley

The science columns of Willy Ley comprised one of main draws for Galaxy back when I first got my subscription.  In this article, Ley goes over the various topics of moment he's covered over the last decade and a half, providing updates where appropriate.  It's a neat little tour of his tenure with the magazine.

Four stars.

A Better Mousehole, by Edgar Pangborn

Pangborn, like Bradbury, is another of the genre's sentimentalists.  When he does it well, he does it better than anyone.  This weird story, told in hard-to-read first person, said protagonist being a bartender who finds alien, thought-controlling blue bugs in his shop, is a slog.

Two stars.

Three to a Given Star, by Cordwainer Smith

Oh frabjous day!  A new Instrumentality story!  This one tells the tale of three unique humans sent off to pacify the gabbling, cackling cannibals of Linschoten XV: "Folly", once a beautiful woman and now a 11-meter spaceship; "SAMM" a quarter-mile long bronze statue possessing a frightening armory; and "Finsternis", a giant cube as dark as night, and with the ability to extinguish suns.


by Gray Morrow

Guest appearances are made by Casher O' Neill and Lady Ceralta, two of humanity's most powerful telepaths whom we met in previous stories.

I've made no secret of my admiration for the Instrumentality stories, which together create a sweeping and beautiful epic of humanity's far future.  Three has a bit of a perfunctory character, somehow, and thus misses being a classic.

Still, even feeble Smith earns three stars.

Small Deer, by Clifford D. Simak

In Deer, a fellow makes a time machine, goes back to see the death of the dinosaurs, and discovers that aliens were rounding them up for meat… and that they might come back again now that humanity has teemed over the Earth.

A throwback of a story and definitely not up to Simak's standard.  A high two (or a low three if you're feeling generous and/or missed the last thirty years of science fiction).

The Good New Days, by Fritz Leiber

On an overcrowded Earth, steady work is a thing of the past.  Folks get multiple part time gigs to fill the time, including frivolous occupations like smiling at people on the way to work.  Satirical but overindulgent, I had trouble getting through it.  Two stars.

Founding Father, by Isaac Asimov

Dr. A was lured back into the world of fiction after an eight-year almost complete hiatus; apparently he can be cajoled into almost anything.  In Father, based on this month's cover, five marooned space travelers try to cleanse a planet of its poisonous ammonia content before their dwindling oxygen supplies run out.

It's a fair story, but I had real issues with the blitheness with which the astronauts plan to destroy an entire ecosystem that requires ammonia to survive.  In the end, when terrestrial plants manage to take root on the planet, spelling doom for the native life, it's heralded as a victory.

Two stars.

Shall We Have a Little Talk?, by Robert Sheckley


by Jack Gaughan

Bob Sheckley was a Galaxy staple (under his own name and several pseudonyms) for most of the 1950s.  His short stories are posssibly the best of anyone's, but he eschewed them for novels that just didn't have the same brilliance.

Well, he's back, and his first short story in Galaxy in ages is simply marvelous.  It involves a representative of a rapacious Terra who travels to a distant world to establish relations, said contact a prelude to its ultimate subjugation.  But first, he has to establish meaningful communications.

Fiercely satirical and hysterical to boot, Talk is Sheckley in full form.

Mun, er, five stars.

Summing up

In the end, this all-star issue was, as usual, something of a mixed bag.  Still, there's enough gold here to show that the river Gold established is still well worth panning.  Here's to another fifteen years!



[Journey Press now has three excellent titles for your reading pleasure! Why not pick up a copy or three? Not only will you enjoy them all — you'll be helping out the Journey!]




[September 12, 1965] So Far . . . Well, Fair (October 1965 Amazing)


by John Boston

Amazing, A.L. (after Lalli)

The shape of the post-Ziff-Davis Amazing and the new publisher’s reprint policy become much clearer in this October issue.  There are seven items of fiction here, and five of them are reprints, comprising about 55% of the magazine’s page count.  If this issue is typical, Amazing is drastically shrinking as a significant market for original fiction.

The two new fiction items are the first part of a two-part serial by Murray Leinster, whose future seems mostly to have been behind him for some years now, and yet another Ensign De Ruyter short story by Arthur Porges.  There is also another in the series of scientific hoax articles by Robert Silverberg. 

There’s an editorial, this time by managing editor Joseph Ross, rather than by Sol Cohen, “editor and publisher” on the masthead.  Ross shows himself to be as boring a writer as Cohen in his paean to Murray Leinster, the Dean of Science Fiction.  The letter column, now just called Letters, reappears, with one very long letter praising the new Amazing by someone who has bought the first Cohen issue, but hasn’t actually read it.  The point is elusive.  The mediocre cover is by Frank Kelly Freas, probably bought at a rummage sale or something; Freas has never appeared on Amazing’s cover before.


by Frank Kelly Freas

With all these inauspicious signs, it’s a bit surprising that the contents of the issue are a considerable improvement over the previous one, the first of the Cohen/Ross regime. 

Killer Ship (Part 1 of 2), by Murray Leinster


by Nodel

As is my practice, I’ll withhold comment on Killer Ship, the Leinster serial, until it’s finished, pausing only to note that Leinster seems to have taken up a hoary theme: space pirates!  And he begins on a determinedly vintage note: “He came of a long line of ship-captains, which probably explains the whole matter.” Hope struggles with trepidation.

The Eternal Eve, by John Wyndham

John Wyndham’s The Eternal Eve, from the September 1950 Amazing, begins as the protagonist Amanda sees a man approaching the cave she is living in and shoots him with her rifle.  She then pushes his body over the nearby cliff to be eaten by the giant crabs that live on the beach below, this being Venus.  From there, a flashback: Amanda has come to Venus for an 18-month job assisting an anthropological expedition.  But Earth blows up, leaving nobody alive but the modest colony on Venus and those humans who were on Mars or in space at the time.


by Rod Ruth

Order starts to erode in the obvious ways, one of which is pressure for Amanda to pair off with one of the men.  She’s not interested, and creates a diversion allowing her to slip off with her rifle and some supplies and set up housekeeping on her own, with the help of the childlike Venusian griffa.  Eventually she realizes she can’t live happily completely outside human society, so she gives in and comes back, facilitated by the appearance of Mr. Right, but not before she shoots him too.  Not fatally, though: think of it as romantic comedy, cordite replacing the flowers.

I’ve made this story sound a bit reactionary; not so.  Wyndham is actually pretty sensitive to the dilemmas posed for independent-minded women by the demands of male-dominated society, even if he doesn’t solve them in this story.  He's continued to chew on this theme in his later work, most notably the novella Consider Her Ways from the mid-1950s.  He is also a much more capable writer at the word and sentence level than most Amazing contributors, new or old, making this story a pleasure to read.  Am I really saying four stars?  Guess so.

Chrysalis, by Ray Bradbury


by McClish

Ray Bradbury’s Chrysalis, from the July 1946 issue, is much better than the execrable Final Victim from the last issue, though considerably cruder than the stories he puts in his collections.  Man here (Smith) has turned green and his skin has become a hard shell; also his metabolism has slowed almost to nothing.  He is being watched over by Dr. Rockwell (the sensible and inquiring one), Dr. Hartley (the near-hysterical one), and Dr. McGuire (the nebbish of the bunch).  Young Mr. Bradbury seems to have been spending a bit too much time at the movies, or else he’s aspiring to work for them, since the story proceeds mainly through scenes of these characters swapping reasonably sharp dialogue, while Smith continues being green and seemingly unconscious as strange transformations continue underneath the green shell.  Dr. Rockwell broaches the possibility of superman, or super-something, and shortly, the story’s title is enacted, unfortunately a bit anticlimactically.  The story is a bit too long, but the author moves it along capably.  Three stars.

The Metal Man, by Jack Williamson

Jack Williamson’s first published story, The Metal Man, from the December 1928 issue, has not worn well.  There’s a very lifelike metal statue of a man standing in the Tyburn College Museum—lifelike because it used to be Professor Kelvin of Geology, who got rich prospecting for radium.  Now he has been delivered in his statuesque form to his old friend, the narrator, in a wooden chest, along (of course) with his manuscript.  This recounts the Prof’s journey to El Rio de la Sangre, the River of Blood, which is highly radioactive.  He’s looking for the source, resorting to a small airplane whose parts he assembles on-site when he gets as far as a boat will take him. 


by Frank R. Paul

He winds up in a strange, colorful lost world.  Very colorful.  The river is like a red snake, and it goes underground and emerges in a mountain crater that holds a pool of green fire, extending to the black ramparts of the other side of the crater, while “the snow-capped summits about were brilliant argent crowns, dyed with crimson, tinged with purple and gold, tinted with strange and incredible hues.” A silver mist begins to descend.  The green lake rises up to a shining peak, and from it emerges—“a gigantic sphere of deep red, marked with four huge oval spots of dull black,” its surface “thickly studded with great spikes that seemed of yellow fire”!

This is all in the space of a few paragraphs.  After a brief respite, Prof. Kelvin finds his plane and himself covered with a pale blue luminosity, he is drawn down into the green (gaseous) lake to land, stumbles around and trips over a bird that has turned to metal, foreshadowing his own fate.  He has more adventures (also very colorful, but enough of that) as he blunders around in this strange world created by lots of radioactivity, becoming more metallic as he goes.  Unfortunately there’s not much more to the story than this parade of menacing wonders, made possible by the fact that back then nobody really knew that much about the effects of radioactivity.  Two stars. 

It should be noted that Williamson went on to produce The Green Girl, Through the Purple Cloud, The Stone from the Green Star, Red Slag of Mars, In the Scarlet Star, and Golden Blood, all within the next five years.  The visible spectrum seems to have been a good career move for him.

The Time Jumpers, by Philip Francis Nowlan


by Leo Morey

Philip Francis Nowlan, perpetrator of the Buck Rogers Yellow Peril epics, is here in a lighter mood with The Time Jumpers (February 1934 Amazing), a mildly amusing period piece (albeit with certain period attitudes) about a guy who invents a time car and, with his platonic girlfriend, first narrowly escapes from marauding Vikings, possibly Leif Ericson’s outfit, then makes a longer foray into the Colonial period, narrowly escaping from marauding Indians, briefly meeting the young not-yet-General Washington, and then narrowly escaping from a French officer and his marauding Indians.  Two stars.

Dusty Answer, by Arthur Porges

Dusty Answer is yet another of Arthur Porges’s tales of Ensign De Ruyter, notable chiefly for the excruciating tedium they achieve in relatively few pages.  Their formula is clever Earthmen outwitting stupid and primitive aliens through elementary science tricks, this time the ignition of dust suspended in air.  One star, if that.

The Kensington Stone, by Robert Silverberg

Robert Silverberg’s scientific hoax article, The Kensington Stone, concerns the finding and subsequent career of an inscription found in Minnesota which purported to show that the Norse Vinland settlement of Leif Erikson (yeah, him again, spelled a little differently) had sent an expedition as far as Minnesota.  This one is just as well written as its predecessors, suffering by comparison only because the underlying story is less captivating, with no picturesque fraudster at its center.  Three stars.

Summing Up

So: whatever one thinks about the new reprint policy at Amazing and Fantastic, new editor Ross has managed this month (or bi-month) to put together a decently readable issue.  Question is how long he can keep it up.



[Speaking of books, Journey Press now has three excellent titles for your reading pleasure! Why not pick up a copy or three? Not only will you enjoy them all — you'll be helping out the Journey!]




[September 10, 1965] So Many Thews (Lin Carter's The Wizard of Lemuria)

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by Erica Frank

A Bewildering Epic of Tiny Proportions

ACE Books is practically synonymous with "science fiction," but they also put out quite a bit of fantasy (for instance, most of the works of Andre Norton). The newest addition to their stable of fantasy authors is Lin Carter. His first foray into book-length (barely) work is, shall we say, ambitious…

The book is titled The Wizard of Lemuria but we don't meet the wizard until Chapter 4. There are 12 chapters. The first quarter of the novella-length book is spent introducing our hero, Thongor of Valkarth. He is, although a lowly barbarian mercenary, both mighty and honorable.

The book opens on the aftermath of a wager on a zamph race. Jeled Malkh—an officer and swordmaster—lost the wager, and attacked Thongor rather than pay up. Thongor quickly overcame him, shrugged off the bet, and offered to drink away their differences. Jeled refused and fought dirty, yet Thongor overcame him again, and again, offered him peace.

Very mighty. Very honorable. A man who doesn't like to kill other men, even cheating men.

Jeled Malkh accepted his offer of peace—then betrayed Thongor, stabbing him and throwing him in a cell. Thongor spends a lot of time in cells. Mighty he may be; clever he is not.

Cover for The Wizard of Lemuria
Gray Morrow's cover shows Thongor fighting a grakk from his air boat made of urlium, the weightless metal.

Thongor has friends, though, and one of them got him out of the cell. On his way out of town, he managed to steal an alchemist's experimental airboat. Thus equipped with exotic and fast transport, he aimed for the distant land of Kathool and promptly fell asleep.

He awoke to an attack by lizard-hawks, which battle you may see depicted on the book cover. Thongor did mightily well against them, as is his wont, but the boat was unmoving because its rotors had run down. Also, the winds had blown the boat far into the great jungle of Chush, and below him was one of the mighty dwarks, a jungle-dragon. In the ensuing fight, the boat crashed and he became lost in the jungle.

What would he do during the long watches of the night, still many hours away, when every dreaded predator of the jungles would be out roaming for food? How could he protect himself from the swift-footed poa that could out-race even a trained zamph—or from the man-eating zemedar with its six great arms—or the gigantic flying spiders?

His situation by night would be doubly dangerous, for due to the prevalence of slith in the trees, he would not be able to climb them and avoid the beasts.

By 25 pages into this story, I already had to keep track of twelve species, seven locations (not counting Lemuria itself), three status-related titles, and two deities. Four of these things would never be mentioned again.

Map of Lemuria
Not labeled on the map: the rivers Ysaar and Saan; the Mountains of Mommur surrounding the Dragon Isles; Sharimba, the "mightiest" mountain the range; Zharanga Tethrabaal, the Great Ocean; Neol-Shendis, the "Inner Sea" where the Dragon Isles lie.

Chapter 4 is where the actual plot began. Thongor was rescued by the Great Wizard of Lemuria, Sharajsha, who offers him a job: Help the wizard re-forge the great dragon-slaying sword and take on the remnants of the Dragon Kings, who are due to rise again and attempt to destroy the universe.

Fortunately, Sharajsha is wise, clever, talented, and resourceful, all traits that Thongor lacks. (Thongor, however, has mighty thews—iron thews, we are told—which is exactly what Sharajsha needs to face down the Dragon King hordes.) Sharajsha fixed up the damaged flying boat, and added a new mechanism, so that when one spring winds down, it winds up the other, so it will never again be left without power. With this perpetual motion machine neatly handwaved into existence, they set off on their journey together.


John Keely and one of his fraudulent perpetual motion motors, c. 1890

During their travels, Thongor acquires an ally, a Tsargolian nobleman named Karm Karvus, who was always referred to by both names, and princess/queen/Sarkaja Sumia, a beautiful woman whose throne had been usurped by evil priests.

I'm going to bypass the bulk of their adventures. The recurring sequence of events is: When Thongor gets himself captured (again), his allies in the flying ship look for the biggest scene of carnage and mayhem in the city to find and rescue him. 

Musical Interlude

Each chapter of the book begins with an excerpt of poetry (save one that opens with literature). These are Epic Tales of Battle and Legendary Feats of Yore. They are obviously intended to be sung, or at least recited with something of a tune, to make them easy for a non-literate culture to remember. I do not know what tunes Thongor and his friends may have used for them, but I have found music that works for each of them.

The War Song of the Valkarthan Swordsmen, Thongor sings in battle; he must be formidable indeed if he can hack and stab his way through swarms of enemies while keeping enough breath to belt out a tune.

"All day our swords drank deep and long
Of blood wine-red, of blood wine-strong!
Tonight in the red halls of hell
We'll feast with foes and friends as well!"

As you can clearly see, this sings beautifully to "Greensleeves," and I choose to believe that the tune is much older than originally believed.

Thongor's Saga is presumably written after the conclusion of the book.

"The sliding hiss of scales on stone,
Weird green-flame eyes in shadows black,
When Thongor faced the slorgs alone
And cold steel drove the nightmares back!"

This works nicely with "Greensleeves" as well, which is fitting, as Valkarthians probably don't have the imagination to use different tunes for their war-songs.

Diombar's Song of the Last Battle describes how the Dragon Kings were defeated several thousand years ago.

"From wild red dawn to wild red dawn
    we held our iron line
And fought till the blades broke in our hands
    and the sea ran red as wine.
With arrow, spear and heavy mace
    we broke the Dragon's pride,
Thigh-deep in the roaring sea we fought,
    and crimson ran the tide."

This is more complex, and needs a tune with more variety. It scans wonderfully to the theme song from Gilligan's Island.

The Rituals of Yamath, chanted while making offerings to the God of Fire:

"The naked virgins on thine altars plead
As scarlet flame on pallid flesh doth feed!
Lord of the Fire, drink down young lives like wine—
Hearts, limbs and breasts—their very souls—are thine!"

This was harder to track down, as iambic pentameter is common for poetry, not songs. However, I did verify that "Battle of New Orleans" works nicely. The sacrifices in the book happened long before 1814, so they must have originally used a different tune.

The Scarlet Edda, which contains the prophecy the wizard fears.

"Lords of Chaos dark the sky:
All the Sons of Men shall die.
Dragon-rune and blood of men:
Portals ope—to close again?
Naught can make the Portals fade,
Save the Sword by lightning made."

As is appropriate for such an otherworldly subject, it can be sung to "Rock of Ages, Cleft for Me."


Now you, too, can sing along with Sharajsha as he describes the impending doom of Lemuria.

Words of Wizardry

The vocabulary is downright dizzying. Five of "the nineteen gods" are mentioned by name; one is a goddess. At least 12 cities are mentioned; more than half of them are only mentioned once or twice, and they are not visited. The vorn is a measure of distance: 5,555 "strides," claimed to be roughly the same as our mile. You might expect that distances are only measured in vorn, but no: while the Mountains of Mommur are "a stupendous wall of rock almost two thousand vorn in length," the Inner Sea is "[l]ocked in by miles of mountains"—those exact same mountains.

The various species and cultures of Lemuria are more interesting than Thongor's adventures, which can be summarized as, "Thongor meets great danger; Thongor kills great danger; Thongor is overwhelmed by even greater danger but his friends come to his aid; Thongor then slays the source of the great danger."

A Lemurian Bestiary and Herbarium

Three different creatures have the honor of being the worst monster in Lemuria: the grakks, the drawks, and the zemadar. The grakks and drawks are tied for "fiercest and most deadly fighters," while the "man-eating" zemadar is "the most dreaded." (I don't know why they're called "man-eating." It seems that all the creatures and some of the plants eat men.)

Note: Some creatures are italicized. Some are not. I could not find any pattern in this.

Bouphar, animal: Possibly cow-like. Common food animal, often roasted; also used for leather. The meat is called "beef."

Dream-Lotus, plant: A flower with sedative properties; it works on men and beasts. "One grain [of the dust] will transport a man to the dreamworlds… for many hours."

Dwark, animal: Giant forest dragon found in Chush: 200' long armored body, 60' long neck, and teeth longer than Thongor's sword.

Grakk, animal: Lizard-hawk, a giant predatory flying creature, with 40' batlike wings and a barbed tail. The young are called grakklets.

Lotifer, plant: Huge trees in Chush, sometimes 200 yards tall. All seem infested with slith

Photh, animal: Its skin is used for making scarlet leather pouches.

Poa, animal: Fast predator in the jungle of Chush

Sarn, plant: Berries found in the jungle of Chush, used for making a wine popular in Thurdis.

Slith, plant: Deadly vampire flowers that cover the trees in Chush; they are used for executions in Thurdis. They have "soft petals like a yawning mouth, laying bare the triple rows of hollow fangs."

Slorg, animal: Dreaded woman-headed serpent of Lemuria's deserts. These are near-mindless beasts, that attack in swarms. They have green flame eyes.

Spider, giant flying, animal: Yet another danger in Chush. This one does not make an appearance.

Waterfruit, plant: Fruit from Chush, small enough to be eaten by the handful.

Wolf, green, animal: Sharajsha has a book bound in the fur of a green wolf.

Zamph, animal: Somewhat-draconic creature used for riding or racing. It is a descendent of the triceratops, and somewhat resembles a rhinoceros. The reins are attachehed to iron rings that pierce the ears, the only portion of it that is sensitive to pain. Sharajsha's is wide enough to seat two people.

Zemadar, animal (also spelled zemedar): The shape is never described. It has six arms (plus some number of legs), a triple row of foot-long fangs with poison that instantly paralyzes, a barbed tail, and is very fast; described as a "crimson juggernaut." One of these was the "Terror of the Arena" in Tsargol. It is only vulnerable at the eyes.

But is it any good?

The book is surprisingly readable considering how packed it is with specialized vocabulary, including terms that are only mentioned once. Thongor's story, although rather predictable, contains powerful imagery; this book would do well converted to a movie or comic series.

As a book, however… the plot is cliched; the men are stereotypes; the woman is devoid of personality; the outcome is exactly as expected. Two stars, and half of one of those was probably the fun of singing Diombar's song to "Gilligan's Island."



[Speaking of books, Journey Press now has three excellent titles for your reading pleasure! Why not pick up a copy or three? Not only will you enjoy them all — you'll be helping out the Journey!]




[September 8, 1965] Still a Stranger in a Strange Land (THE STRANGER SERIES 2, AUSTRALIAN TV SF)


by Kaye Dee

Back in April, I wrote about The Stranger, Australia’s first locally-produced science fiction television show. The second series completed its run on the Australian Broadcasting Commission (ABC) in late July, so this month I wanted to look at how the story of the Soshunites and their Earthly friends has played out across six new episodes.

The new series of The Stranger opens with the same credits sequence and eerie theme music, although the otherworldy script used for the title has been slightly modified for series two

The ABC Takes Another Chance

When the first series came to its dramatic conclusion, the Soshunites had been granted permission by the United Nations to leave Soshuniss, their moon-turned-spaceship, and settle on Earth. This could have been a suitably happy ending for the story. However, after taking an initial gamble with producing a children’s science fiction adventure for television, the ABC decided on a second bold step. The ratings success of The Stranger, and its popularity with adult audiences, encouraged the national broadcaster to refocus the new series towards an older age group, with a significantly larger budget and a prestigious family audience timeslot at 7.30pm on a Sunday night, making it Australia’s first locally-made prime-time science fiction series.

With Mr. G. K. Saunders again writing the script, all the original cast and production crew have returned for a story that is considerably more complex than the earlier series, involving international politics, intrigue and a ruthless business mogul planning to exploit the Soshunites’ arrival on Earth for his own profit.

Episode 1

Broadcast on Sunday 20 June, the opening episode of series two picks up immediately after the events at the end of the previous series: in fact, together the episodes could be considered a two-part story. The UN’s decision to allow the Soshunites to settle on Earth has been prematurely leaked to the press by a US Senator. Panic ensues, with newspaper headlines proclaiming that an alien invasion is imminent.

In Australia, Soshunite emissaries Adam Suisse (whose Soshunian name, we now know, is Sinsi) and Varossa await the return of Prof. Mayer, who has been acting on behalf of Soshuniss at the UN. Suddenly, the home of their hosts, the Walsh family, comes under siege by the press and television crews. Seeking to protect the aliens, Col. Nash, the Security chief, confines them in Adam’s former home on the grounds of St Michael’s School, with a police guard. While Nash has so far been friendly, his attitude begins to change when Adam, rankled by what he sees as imprisonment (he clearly doesn’t understand the persistence of newshounds!), informs him that there has been a change of leadership on Soshuniss.

In one of Mr, Saunders’ characteristics twists, the female Soshun, whose policy was that her people would only settle on Earth if invited, has been replaced by a new male leader. This new Soshun is determined to establish his people on Earth, and when Adam says he agrees with this policy, Nash begins to suspect that perhaps the Soshunites are not as peaceful as they have portrayed themselves up till now.

The hypnotic stare of a Soshunite pilot as he uses his mind-control abilities to kidnap Peter Cannon!

Meanwhile, Peter Cannon, one of the three teenage children who befriended Adam and the Soshunites in series one, secretly uses Adam’s space radio to contact Soshuniss, trying to advise the Soshun of the situation. Unaware of the change in leadership, when a Soshunian spacecraft arrives Peter approaches it. The pilot then induces him to board the ship using the Soshunites’ mind-control abilities…

Episode 2

In New York, Prof. Mayer receives a visit from Rudolph Lindenberger, the world’s richest man. (Imagine, he claims to be a billionaire! And even though a US billion is considerably less than a British billion-that’s still a fantastical amount of money to be anyone’s personal fortune). Lindenberger tries to persuade Mayer that, as an American, he must use his influence with the aliens to ensure that their scientific knowledge is handed over to the United States. Mayer believes that Lindenberger is a misguided patriot, but his son Edward smells a con and believes Lindenberger is looking to line his own pockets.

Arriving on Soshuniss, Peter is taken to the new Soshun and learns that the Soshunites are now desperate to land on Earth because their computers have determined that there is no other suitable planet that they can reach. The Soshun tells Peter that his people have a powerful weapon that will be used if they are not given permission to land. With Adam and Varossa still on Earth, Peter has been kidnapped to be held as a hostage to ensure their safety.

Lindenberger's aide, Blake, tries to pump Edward Mayer for information about the Soshunites as they fly to Australia

Once Mayer and his son, Edward, arrive in Australia, plans are made to move Adam and Varossa to the Parkes Radio Telescope, in country New South Wales, which will be turned into a space communications facility. Joining them, will be the Mayers and teenagers Bernie and Jean Walsh. Along with Peter, these are all the people who have been to Soshuniss. This will keep them safe from the reporters, but is there another motive?

Adam has now decided that he does not trust Nash. Using their mind-control powers, he and Varossa subdue their police guards and escape. Varossa is shot and captured by another police officer, but Adam jumps into Nash’s car and uses his hypnotic ability to make the driver obey his will.

Episode 3

Varossa is in hospital, recovering from his wounds, although Nash keeps this secret from Mayer and the Walshes. The Security chief discovers that no-one can remember anything after being under the Soshunites’ mind control, including Nash’s driver: Adam has disappeared, his whereabouts unknown. Nash proceeds with his plan to move everyone else to Parkes. Although they evade the pursuing newshounds, Lindenberg’s henchman, Blake, realises where they must be heading. Adam, too, is also travelling to the vicinity of Parkes.

The Parkes Radio Telescope is Australia's most significant scientific instrument and the largest fully-steerable radio telescope in the world. It features in the opening credits of both series of The Stranger and plays a prominent role in series two. A pity the Soshunites destroy it in Episode 5!

Visiting the General Manager of his Australian subsidiaries, Lindenberg reveals that his plan is to make sure that the Soshunites are settled somewhere under his control. He intends to exploit their advanced knowledge to generate huge profits for his businesses – “in the billions”! Edward Mayer was right to distrust his motives.

On Soshuniss, the Soshun decides to demonstrate the Soshunites’ advanced knowledge. Peter is placed under mind control and forced to write a letter to the Prime Minister of Australia. His arrival in Canberra from Soshuniss, it says, will be proof of the power of the Soshunites. Meanwhile, Nash and the others have now arrived at the radio telescope, which is searching the skies for signals from Soshuniss in orbit. As the episode ends, they think they have found it!

Searching for Soshuniss. Professor Mayer joins senior telescope operator Dr. Scott in the control room of the Parkes Radio Telescope

Episode 4

With Soshuniss located, Mayer learns that there is a plan to “fit Moon rockets [presumably American] with nuclear warheads” if no peaceful agreement can be reached with the Soshunites. Meanwhile, Jean has experienced a strange dream that Adam wants her to collect a letter from the post office in a village not far from Parkes. Convinced it is a telepathic message from the Soshunite, Jean escapes secretly from the living quarters at the radio telescope and retrieves the letter. Unfortunately, Lindenberg’s assistant, Blake, who has now arrived in Parkes, manages to tail Jean, and overhears when she calls the boys to tell them where Adam is hiding.

When the three teens reach his hideout, they realise that Nash has been less than truthful, as they know nothing about Varossa’s shooting when Adam enquires about him. Adam asks the youngsters to bring him his radio, which has been brought to the telescope’s lab for study, so that he can contact a Soshunian spacecraft. Blake has been eavesdropping and phones Lindenberg with the news. The ruthless businessman immediately flies to one of his company properties near Parkes.

Even though Adam hides in an old country showground, the persistent Blake manages to track him down

Mayer, as yet unaware there is a new, militaristic Soshun, tries to convince Nash that the Soshunites are completely peaceful. However, his arguments are destroyed when Peter is discovered in a deep coma, of a type unknown to Earthly medicine, in the private Members Courtyard at Parliament House. A threatening letter from the Soshun to the Prime Minister is clutched in his hand, delivering an ultimatum: Earth must allow the Soshunites to land, or they will use their weapon.

Meanwhile, Jean, Bernie and Edward take a risk and enlist Mayer’s help to retrieve Adam’s communication device. Mayer is shocked to learn that, as with the information about the new Soshun, Nash did not inform him that Varossa was shot and captured.

Episode 5

As Mayer attempts to obtain the Soshunian radio, one of Lindenberg’s henchmen tries to steal it at gunpoint from the radio telescope’s lab. In the ensuing confusion, Bernie manages to grab the device and races up the through the telescope building chased by Blake. Desperate to escape, he climbs up onto the telescope’s antenna and makes his way precariously across the dish surface, still pursued by Blake. Suddenly the antenna begins to tilt alarmingly, and they both begin to slide.

The radio telescope operators have realised Bernie is in danger and moved the antenna so that he can slide safely down the surface of the steeply tilting dish and leap off as its rim nears the ground. Blake on the other hand, is left clinging for his life on the elevated side of the antenna. Dr. Scott, the senior telescope operator, then sneaks down to the lab and coshes the gunman holding Mayer and the others at bay. The radio telescope personnel help Blake down from the dish, but he and the gunman escape. Like Mayer, Edward and Jean, Blake follows after Bernie, who is already on his way to Adam with the space radio. Meanwhile, Bernie and Jean’s father has arrived at the telescope, after hearing news of Peter’s mysterious appearance in Canberra.

Hanging on for dear life! Lindenberger's henchman, Blake, clings to the tilted dish of the Parkes radio telescope during his pursuit of Bernie. This scene was actually filmed on the telescope

Mayer tells Adam what has happened to Peter and the three teens are shocked at this ruthless move by the Soshun. Mayer also decides to divulge the secret information about the plans to attack Soshuniss with nuclear weapons. To persuade the Soshun that the scientific community and most people on Earth are of goodwill and would welcome the Soshunites, Mayer offers to travel to Soshuniss on the spacecraft that is coming to collect Adam, to act as a human shield for the Soshunites.

Blake secretly records this conversation. When Lindenburg hears it, fearing the collapse of his plans to exploit the Soshunites, he devises a new strategy. Blake will kidnap Adam and transport him to a private island owned by Lindenberg, off the east coast of Australia. It has facilities large enough to house the entire Soshunian population (numbering just 300). Adam will be persuaded to invite the Soshunites to settle there in secret, so that they will be safely away from Soshuniss if it is attacked – and completely under Lindenberg’s control.

As revenge against Mayer for not falling in originally with his plans, Lindenberg also decides to use Blake’s recording to convince Nash that the professor is a traitor who has betrayed the Earth’s defence plans.

Nash’s Security team, Blake and his henchman, Walsh and the Soshunian spacecraft all arrive at Adam’s hideout at the same time and chaos ensues. Blake kidnaps Adam, who escapes using his hypnotic powers. Nash shoots Mayer in the leg to stop him boarding the Soshunian spacecraft, which hastily departs without either Mayer or Adam.

Episode 6

The final episode of the series is action-packed! Thinking Adam safe, the youngsters have returned to the radio telescope, but Nash arrests Adam, Mayer and Walsh. As they stop at Lindenberg’s farm for medical assistance to the professor, it becomes clear that the Security chief no longer trusts the businessman and now suspects his motives. Mayer persuades Walsh to escape and make a dash to Canberra. He must convince the Prime Minister that the threat from the Soshun is real. If the Soshunites are refused permission to settle, they will crash their moon-ship into the Earth: this is their weapon! Since they will be condemned to a lingering death wandering in space if they cannot land, they have nothing to lose.

Nash takes Adam to the radio telescope, where Bernie, Jean and Edward are now also under house arrest. When Adam realises that the antenna is being used to track Soshuniss so that it can be targetted by the nuclear-armed rockets, he secretly radios the Soshun. High-powered signals from Soshuniss destroy the telescope’s control system, rendering it useless.

Following Walsh’s meeting with the Prime Minister and the destruction of the radio telescope, Nash, Adam and Mayer are summoned to a meeting in Canberra. Dr. Kamutsa, the UN Secretary General’s personal representative, has also arrived. The Prime Minister has astutely realised that the current situation with Soshuniss has arisen from confusion since the initial information leak. He wishes to send Dr. Kamutsa to Soshuniss to discuss a “peaceful and harmonious” resolution and indicates that he already has a search underway for an area in Australia where the Soshunites can settle. 

When Adam contacts the Soshun, the leader insists that Bernie, Jean and Edward, whom he trusts, be sent to Soshuniss as emissaries and hostages, to demonstrate the good faith of the Earth. It is eventually agreed that Dr. Kamutsa will accompany the children as an advisor and they are all transported to Soshuniss. 

Upon arrival, Jean uses a ploy to persuade the Soshun to send medical aid to Peter, who is still in hospital in a coma. The Soshunite leader agrees and negotiations begin. Meanwhile Lindenberger makes a final attempt to gain control of the Soshunites, by publicly offering his private island as their new home – to which he will have access as the owner. However, Mayer and the Prime Minister adroitly outmanoeuvre the businessman, who is trapped into donating his island freely to the Australian Government: it is then placed under UN administration as the Soshunites’ new home.

Welcome to Earth. The Lord Mayor of Sydney formally welcomes the Soshun and his entourage to the Earth and Australia in front of Sydney Town Hall

With a resolution to the Shonunite’s desire to settle on Earth, and Varossa and Peter now out of hospital, Mayer reveals to Adam that he deliberately overplayed the Soshunite threat to crash their world into the Earth: he knew that Earth’s gravity would actually break up the spaceship-moon before it could strike the planet. Adam confesses in turn that the Soshunite’s strategy was all a tremendous bluff. Not only did they know that Soshuniss would be unable to destroy the Earth, they were so lacking in power that they were, in fact, unable to break the spaceship-moon out of its orbit around the Earth. The Soshunites would have died in orbit if their gambit failed and they were prevented from settling on our planet.

The story ends with a grand civic reception at the Sydney Town Hall, in which the Soshun and his people are welcomed to the Earth and Australia. In the final scene, Adam and Varossa depart from the steps of the Town Hall in a small Soshunian spacecraft, flying across Sydney Harbour and out to sea – towards their new home….

A Successful Transition

To judge from its ratings and the generally positive response from the television critics, the ABC should be satisfied that its experiment in prime-time science fiction television has paid off. Certainly, my sister’s family were engrossed, and even though I detected a few holes in the plot and more than a few holes in the science, I give Mr. Saunders full credit for creating a complex, multi-faceted story that turned the children’s adventure of the first series into an exciting family thriller. The story built and maintained its tension and air of uncertainty well, especially with the mistrust created by the multiple twists of Mayer’s bluff and Soshunites’ desperate double bluff. It also included moments of wry Australian humour to appeal to adult audiences, with jibes at bureaucrats and politicians, the military mindset, big business and even our “great and powerful friend”, the United States.

War of the Worlds! The fear of an alien invasion that generates tension in series two of The Stranger is highlighted in this preview article in TV Times

This series’ switch from the juvenile to family/adult category certainly gave more scope for the storyline, enabling it to move beyond the purely Australian focus of series one, to a more international outlook. Particularly interesting is the inclusion of the character of Dr. Kumatsa, a black African diplomat (played by American Negro actor Mr. Ronne Arnold, who has recently decided to live in Australia) as a representation of the role that the newly independent nations of Africa may one day play in the world.

Location, Location, Location

The noticeably higher budget for the second series, enabled producer Mr. Storry Walton to indulge his love of location filming. The Canberra scenes were filmed in Parliament House itself. Prime Minister Menzies even gave his personal permission for the scenes involving the Australian Prime Minister (played with suitable gravitas by veteran Australian actor Chips Rafferty) to be filmed in the private Prime Ministerial offices. Similar official approval was granted for filming at the Sydney Town Hall, which required the construction of a mock-up Soshunian spacecraft at the top of the forecourt staircase, as part of excellent special effects sequences showing the arrival of the Soshun and departure of Adam and Varossa to inspect the Soshunites’ new home.

Flying saucer lands at Sydney Town Hall! The imposing entrance to this iconic Sydney building is transformed into a set for location filming in the final episode of The Stranger

Various other outdoor scenes were filmed around Sydney, the Blue Mountains and Parkes, but ironically, the situation with the Walsh home was reversed. Although the original scenes of Headmaster Walsh’s house in the first series were filmed at a private home, to minimise disruption to the generous owners the house was faithfully replicated in a studio for the remainder of series one and series two. 

The Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation (CSIRO) also gave unprecedented co-operation, presumably in return for the undoubted publicity it provides for the agency. The chase across the Parkes radio telescope in Episode 5 took place, not on a studio set, but on the telescope itself, which was manoeuvred as required for the filming. Actors playing the roles of telescope staff were even permitted to be filmed at the actual controls of the multi-million pound instrument. As with the first series, the CSIRO also provided general scientific advice to the production, which even found its way into some of the dialogue with reasonable accuracy.

The Future?

The sale of the first series to the BBC means that those of you in Britain should be seeing it within the next twelve months, and a sale of the series to the US is also nearing finalisation. While the second series has drawn the story of the Soshunites’ search for a new home to a satisfying conclusion, the ending still leaves open the possibility of a third series. It would be interesting to see how our alien friends cope with the challenges of living in, and adapting to, a new world. I guess only time will tell if the ABC decides to take on another challenge with science fiction television.






[September 6, 1965] War and Peace (October 1965 IF)


by David Levinson

War is something of a constant in human history, with nearly every generation facing at least one. Fifty years ago, the great powers of Europe – with a late assist from the United States – fought the “war to end war” (a phrase probably coined by H. G. Wells). Twenty years later, we got to do it all again. And ever since, brushfire wars have flared up around the globe almost continually. War permeates our language and culture even in times of peace. In his State of the Union address last year, President Johnson referred to his Great Society program as a “war on poverty”. It even shows up in our entertainment: war movies are popular; there must be half a dozen TV shows in the new fall line-up set during the War or with military themes (more if you count spy shows); and one of the current best selling novels is a barely fictional account of the U. S. Army’s special forces, The Green Berets. Sometimes it’s enough to make you believe we really are on the Eve of Destruction.


The rawness of the recording makes it that much more powerful

The War in Viet Nam

On August 5th, America got a rather shocking look at the war in Viet Nam. CBS reporter Morley Safer accompanied a Marine unit to the village of Cam Ne, where they came under sporadic fire from the Viet Cong. Communist forces soon withdrew as the Marines advanced. As they entered the village, the Americans found a number of entrenchments and a few booby traps. Their orders were to destroy any village from which they received fire, so the villagers were herded into the nearby fields, and the Marines set fire to the homes with flamethrowers and cigarette lighters. Despite the villagers’ pleas to be allowed to remove their personal belongings, everything, including all the rice stores, was destroyed. Four old men who couldn’t understand the soldiers’ English were arrested. The public is understandably outraged. Alas, most of the ire seems to be directed at CBS and Mr. Safer. President Johnson is also said to be livid.


A Marine uses his lighter to set fire to a peasant hut

War at the foot of the Roof of the World

On August 5th, several thousand Pakistani soldiers crossed into Indian-controlled Kashmir disguised as civilian locals. The belief was that the local Muslim population would rise up and welcome their coreligionists. Instead they reported the intruders to the Indian authorities. Ten days later, the Indian army crossed the ceasefire line. Thus far, both sides have made progress. As this is written, India has captured the Haji Pir pass, roughly 5 miles inside Pakistani territory, though there are also reports of a massive push by Pakistani forces. Hopefully, another ceasefire can be brought into effect and a long-term peaceful solution can be found.


Indian forces in the Haji Pir pass

War across time and space

War is also a prominent feature of this month’s IF. As one war ends, another begins, along with a couple more and a very uneasy peace negotiation.


There are three living being depicted here. Art by Gaughan

Retief’s War (Part 1 of 3), by Keith Laumer

The natives of the planet Quopp are part insect, part machine and come in a variety of forms, each making up their own tribe. There has also been a sizable human presence for a century or so, to the point that there are human farmers and traders who have lived their whole lives on the planet. Now the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne has decided it is time for a native government to be established and, in the person of Ambassador Longspoon, has chosen the Voions to form the government and the Federal police force. Unfortunately, all the other tribes on the planet see the Voions as bandits and thugs.

As usual, Second Secretary and Consul Jame Retief has learned several of the local dialects and made friends with many of the common folk. There follow a number of adventures. He discovers crates of weapons labeled as educational material, which he manages to divert. Despite severe restrictions on tourism, a shipload of young women is requesting emergency permission to land. Their captain, by the name of Fifi, seems to know Retief, but he has no idea who she is. Defying orders, Retief grants them permission to land, but the ship crashes out in the jungle. Then there’s an attack on the embassy using smoke bombs which appear to be of Groaci manufacture.

Prime Minister Ikk has Retief arrested, hoping to find out where his guns are. He declares he is executing a coup, after which Retief makes his escape. Retief manages to disguise himself as a native with some help, and steals a barely flight worthy spaceship. He crashes in the jungle and is captured by some Ween, who call him Meat-fall-from-sky. As the situation goes from bad to worse, some more Ween drag in a Voion, loudly pointing out that he is a member of the Planetary Police. To be continued.


Meet the bad guys. While other Quoppians like colors, the Voions prefer basic black. Art by Gaughan

I’ve noted over the last few months that Retief is getting stale, as if Laumer is just going through the motions. This time around, he’s writing with more verve. It feels like Laumer is enjoying himself again. Maybe it’s because there’s more room. Retief pulls off at least three escapades here that would normally have had to resolve the whole situation in a shorter piece. So even though we’re getting all the usual story beats, there’s more flavor to it all.

That said, I’m hoping for a bit more depth as the story progresses. Laumer has set things up for some solid satire on colonialism as well as the sort of Cold War proxy conflicts that are really just colonialism in different clothing. The colonial powers frequently set one tribe over all the others, and it was often the least liked tribe, even before they wound up in charge, just as the CDT has done here with the Voions. We’ll have to wait and see if Laumer makes use of the situation he’s created. Three stars for now.

A Leader for Yesteryear, by Mack Reynolds

When his time capsule materializes above deep water, Lucius Rostock is barely able to escape it before it sinks. He is rescued by some very surprised fishermen and brought to shore. The local people take him in, and Lucius discovers that he is neither where nor when he expected to be. Rather than the future, he is in the distant past. Gradually, he learns the language and finds out where fate has brought him, though he is rather taken aback at how unwarlike the people are.

To say more would give the whole story away. I figured out where and when Lucius found himself quite a while before he did, though I suspect Reynolds expected the reader to do that. I also figured out who the text implies Lucius will become, although that is never spelled out. What I didn’t see coming was who Lucius is. The end really caught me by surprise. I do have a couple of quibbles with this otherwise very good story. There’s an odd gap in the languages that Lucius knows, which would have allowed him to communicate much sooner (but not without some difficulty, nevertheless). Also, the final paragraphs – even though the reveal did catch me by surprise – are a bit stilted and clumsy. Still, a solid three stars.

The Smiling Future, by Miriam Allen deFord

In an overpopulated world where nearly everyone works at producing enough food to keep the human race alive, an intelligent dolphin appears on the California coast and summons the world government to a summit meeting. Five hundred years of dumping radioactive waste into the oceans has resulted in highly intelligent, technologically advanced dolphins. In need of more room, they are planning to flood the world, but one faction has an offer to help preserve the human race.

What bleak, bleak story. It’s made worse by the plodding narrative style, too. Mrs. deFord has been in the writing business for well over 40 years, and up until recently her work has been generally very good. She does spend most of her time writing mysteries, even winning an Edgar a few years ago, and I admit I don’t read all that much in the genre, so perhaps her level of quality there has held steady. But her work in science fiction and fantasy has really fallen off in quality. Two stars.

Origin of Species, by Robert F. Young

Alan Farrell has traveled to the Upper Paleolithic in search of an anthropology professor and his secretary, who have gone missing. Exiting his own mammothmobile (regular readers may remember a similar concept with dinosaurs in Young’s “When Time Was New”), he finds first the professor’s “paleethnologivehicle” and then the professor’s body, apparently killed by Neanderthals. Farrell presses on, searching for the secretary, Miss Larkin, on whom he is developing a crush based solely on her picture and very wholesome résumé.

Eventually, he discovers a cave guarded by a force field, some Neanderthals who shoot blue sparks out of their mouths, and Miss Larkin. As the two make their escape, Farrell is shocked to learn first that the Neanderthals are bringing in what appear to be Cro-Magnon people as prisoners through some sort of portal, and second that Miss Larkin is not the wholesome girl she seemed to be, but rather an ecdysiast attempting to better her lot in life. Will the pair be able to stop aliens from using Earth as a prison? Will Farrell learn that exotic dancers can be nice girls, too? It’s Young. What do you think?


Honestly, this picture tells you everything you need to know about this story. Those gorillas are supposed to be Neanderthals. Art by Morrow

The good news is that Young hasn’t written another modern take on a myth or fairy tale, nor has he written one of his overly sentimental romances. The bad news is that he attempted to write a sex farce (I think). Without the sex. Farrell is a dope, who took forever to figure out the mystery of the spark-shooting Neanderthals, and a hypocrite. He developed his low opinion of strippers by… visiting strip clubs. Two stars.

Purpose, by Edward V. Dong

All life on Earth has been destroyed by an interstellar nucleonic storm. All that is left is the Machine. It was created to save the human race, but failed. In the last moments, technician John Michelson reprogrammed the Machine to be a monument to Man and to wait for new life to appear in the solar system. Eventually, the Machine is freed of its programming and seeks fulfillment.

Dong is this month’s first time author, and I suspect this story was written for F&SF’s Univac/unicorn contest. I’m not terribly impressed. It really felt like I’d read this before. Indeed for most of its three pages I was expecting something along the lines of Asimov’s “The Last Question”. That’s not quite where the author went with his story, but he didn’t get where he was trying to go either. Two stars.

An Ounce of Emotion, by Gordon R. Dickson

Tyrone Ross and Arthur Mial are the Earth delegation on their way to attempt to broker a peace between the Laburti and Chedal using a computer known as a statistical analysis instrument, or Annie. Earth is in Laburti space and, if war breaks out, could be devastated. Unfortunately, the two men hate each other with an inexplicable passion and have from the moment they met. Ross, the viewpoint character, is the technician who can run Annie, while Mial is a diplomat and ostensibly in charge.

Tempers flare between the two as Mial grows ever more high-handed and seems to be making a corrupt deal with the Chedal. Ross goes so far as to attempt to kill Mial, though he fails. Can Ross keep Mial from wrecking the negotiations? And why would Earth send two people who are so incapable of getting along?


I’m not sure why Annie is blowing up here. That didn’t happen. Art by Giunta

The situation Dickson has created feels rather implausible, even given the explanation at the end. Nevertheless, it’s a decent story, if you can get past the tense atmosphere between the two human characters. Gordy has really settled in as a solid writer who rarely wastes his readers’ time. Three stars.

Short Trip to Nowhere, by Robert Moore Williams

Jim Eiler comes home late. His wife Marta is already asleep, as is his three-year-old daughter Nelda. As he slides into his anti-gravity bed and plugs in the cords of the sleep machine, a voice in his head cheerily greets him. There’s a nasty fight with his wife, and eventually he agrees to call in their friend Harold, a psychiatrist. Eventually, it turns out the voice is coming from Nelda’s imaginary friend, who isn’t so imaginary after all. Then Nelda disappears.

This is another one I felt I had already read in better form. Williams is clearly using Peter Pan as his basis, but there were other resonances. Though different, I was strongly reminded of both Henry Kuttner’s “Mimsy Were the Borogoves” and Mark Clifton’s “Star, Bright”. The bitter relationship between the Eilers makes for an unpleasant read and serves no real purpose, when it could have prompted Nelda’s search for something happier. Instead it’s just bickering. Two stars.

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

Sigh. This story does not deserve a detailed summary. In a nutshell, using Ray-See-Nee magic the Skylarkers and friends come up with a new way to combine mind power. They devise a whole bunch of new science and use it to solve the Chloran problem for good. A final solution, you might say. They take the stars from one galaxy and smash them into the stars of planets the Chlorans live on, while taking all the planets with humans living on them and moving them to a third galaxy. And they called Edmond Hamilton the planet killer.

Midway through this attack, the Chlorans counterattack, leaving Seaton and Crane unconscious. DuQuesne leaps into the breach and finishes the job. Afterwards, he proposes to Hunkie de Marigny and the two go off to conquer a galaxy on the rim of the universe. The end. At last.


Dick Seaton gets what’s coming to him. Art by Morrow

Let’s start with the slightly less egregious denouement. From the title of this novel, one would expect that we would witness the redemption of Blackie DuQuesne. He does decide that there is room enough in the universe for both him and Dick Seaton and he does open up his shell just a little bit to let someone else in. But that’s as far as it goes. He still plans to make himself the emperor of a galaxy. Worse, he openly states that he’s planning a program of eugenics, one based not just on sterilization, but extermination. Marc C. “Blackie” DuQuesne remains an evil man to the end.

And then there’s Dick Seaton. In my review of Part 1, I declared Seaton to be a war criminal, based on his destruction of the Fenachrone homeworld in an earlier novel. Here, after general discussion of what to do about the Chlorans – including a proposal to convert them – he compares the Chlorans to a cancer that must be rooted out (a disgustingly familiar argument) and comes up with a plan to kill every single Chloran before they spread to other galaxies. There are nearly 150 million Chloran planets. We’re talking about the deaths of trillions at the very least. War criminal doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Zero stars for genocide and an ending that completely poisons an otherwise mediocre novel whose only redeeming feature is excessive nostalgia.

Summing up

Well, a bleak issue for a bleak month. It got off to a decent start, though the Reynolds story does have a dark tone to it. The Dickson was unpleasant, but in a good way. It was intended to be so and to make readers think. Other than that, poor efforts topped off by a steaming pile of genocide and eugenics. But at long last, it’s over. Do we have anything to look forward to? Let’s hope so.


A wraparound cover this month, so here it is in all its glory. Art, as before, by Gaughan






[September 4, 1965] Doctor's Orders (Review of "A Doctor in Spite of Himself")


by Victoria Lucas

The Best Sign in the World

Time travel is a staple in science fiction. If the nearest planet isn't far enough, try a few hundred years ago, or a few thousand. I recently viewed a performance of Molière's play, "A Doctor in Spite of Himself," and while it does not feature time travel, for me a work of art from another era always requires time travel to appreciate it.

However, to get to the time to which I just traveled–the late Baroque era in Europe–travel in space was important in several ways. First, I had to travel from my home in San Francisco to Saratoga, an exotic kingdom nearly 50 miles south, southwest of San Jose. The object of going there was a play at the renowned Paul Masson Winery, sponsoring "Music at the Vineyards" for the summer, in particular last Sunday the 29th, for the matinee performance. I don't have the kind of money to either buy a ticket for the performances at the Winery, or to buy gasoline to feed my old Dodge car that is parked on the street most of the time, so arrangements were necessary. Travel in time for the travel in space was about an hour each way.

Processed By eBay with ImageMagick, z1.1.0. ||B2

The second type of space travel was the travel in the play I went to see itself. In "A Doctor in Spite of Himself," the French actor and playwright known as Molière takes us to "the countryside" of France. This travel engaged mental faculties only, no gasoline necessary. The transition was made easier by the presence of the Woodwind Arts Quintet of Los Angeles, who had had to do some traveling themselves to get to Saratoga and set up no later than 3:30 pm. Focusing on the late Baroque period in France, when the play was written, the music was mostly by Jean Philippe Rameau, with a little help from Francois Couperin and Christoph W. Gluck. (The originals were heavy on harpsichord, not a feature of wind quintets, so some arrangement was necessary and mentioned in the program, below.)

Program for "The Doctor in Spite of Himself"

The third type of space travel is entangled in time travel in that understanding the late Baroque period requires some adjustment in attitude. In thinking about the play I realized why space and time were so important. Like England's Shakespeare, France's Molière was well-known in his time and changed his language forever. Unlike England's Shakespeare, Molière was condemned by the Catholic Church and shunned by the aristocracy and saw one of his now best known plays, "Tartuffe," banned. When he died, priests refused him the last rites.
Molière, around 1658, as depicted by Pierre Mignard

The difference? I think it was that Molière did not, like Shakespeare, change the space or time of his plays to make it seem that he was not talking about the present or the nearby. Consider "Hamlet"; it was set in Denmark. Consider "Othello"; it was set in Italy. "Henry IV" was set nearly 200 years in the past from the year he wrote it. I am not advocating such subterfuge, I am just opining that it could save your bacon if you are criticizing a current dictator or monarch and/or his/her politics, mores, or religion, or those of the ruling classes. Molière was a favorite of the king and court, but not of the church or the ruling classes outside Paris. Fortunately, in my own space and time, we are allowed to not take Molière seriously, and, as he has his "doctor" say, "When a doctor makes a patient laugh, it’s the best sign in the world." Are we not all patients at some time or other?

Where the Goat is Tied, There It Must Graze

"The goat" is the wet-nurse Jacqueline's image of herself: tied to an ignorant and jealous husband who helps the steward Valere find a doctor who will treat his mute daughter. In my case, no one has gotten my goat, but I am tied to San Francisco. The back story here is that my arrival in Saratoga was associated with a performance by actors and a director (Kermit Sheets) who usually work at The Playhouse in San Francisco. My fortune is such at this time that not only am I a volunteer at The Playhouse, but I know Cyril Clayton, who is an amateur actor associated with the Playhouse, and who was driving anyway to Saratoga to play Valere, so I rode along. In the play, in the process of recruiting the "doctor," Sganarelle (actually "a woodcutter"), Valere and Jacqueline's husband Lucas (no relation, thanks be) beat and kidnap him. Rather a rough recruitment, no?

But this is all a result of the scheme of Sganarelle's wife Martine, whom he beat, and who wanted him to be beaten since she couldn't manage it herself. Sound a little like Punch and Judy? Molière spent 13 years with an itinerant commedia dell'arte group, and of course elements of that raucous and popular tradition are incorporated into his art. Think R. G. Davis and the San Francisco Mime Troupe.

I am not disturbed by the roughness, but I am, as usual, bothered by stereotypes of women, funny as they may be. In this case, women and men share being the objects of a cultural prejudice that it is not a good idea to intervene in fights or bullying, because both sides may turn on the do-gooder. After chasing away an interloper, along with her husband, Martine begins to figure out how to have her husband beaten. Oddly enough, she thinks the best way to do it is to make people believe he is really a wonderful doctor and might have to be beaten to admit that he is.

You may enjoy the play, and I don't want to give anything away, so I won't reveal more of the plot now. I felt very privileged to be in the beautiful surroundings of the Winery's outdoor stage, sampling the wine, and walking among well-dressed and genteel people, enjoying the music.

This performance is over, but watch for more summer fare at this venue. If you cannot find another performance of this play, remember that San Francisco, the surrounding area, and many if not most major cities are engorged with libraries. Molière's work is not hard to find in translation–even this least frequently performed of his plays.

I think, in fact, that this play is exactly what the doctor ordered if you could use some laughs.



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