Tag Archives: 1967

Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[January 10, 1967] Return to sender (February 1967 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

President Johnson commissioned noted (and favorite of our editor, Janice) artist Peter Hurd to draw his official Presidential portrait.  This was the result:

Reportedly, upon seeing the painting, Johnson described it as the ugliest thing he had ever seen.  Aghast, the artist asked what the President had wanted in a portrait.  Lyndon whipped out this piece painted by Normal Rockwell:

I understand that Hurd returned his commission and that a new picture will be made.  Maybe by someone with the initials L.B.J.

Law of Analogy


by Jack Gaughan

It was certainly a blow to the shocked Hurd, but I kind of know how Lyndon felt.  I had a similar reaction upon finising the latest issue of Galaxy.  This was, for the most part, not the magazine I was hoping for.

Our Man in Peking, by Hayden Howard


by Jack Gaughan

Yes, as Winter follows Fall, so we have yet another tale in the saga of Dr. West and the half-alien Esks.  Briefly: an alien came to Earth and bred with a local woman.  Her progeny, and their kids, too, all breed humanoids who look like Eskimos, but who mature in three years and give birth in a month.  Twenty years after the first was born, there are now more than a billion of them.  And instead of being stopped or even investigated to any real degree, the governments of the world refuse to see them as anything other than mutant Eskimos, deserving of love, affection, and free food.  The Chinese have welcomed them with open arms to till hitherto unprofitable fields, but Canada, Scandinavia, and other places have also taken them in.

Only one man, the notorious Dr. West, who tried but failed to sterilize the Esks with a tailored plague, will admit the true menace of the Esks.

Last installment, West was in a comfy Canadian prison for his attempted genocide.  In this one, he has been sent on a mission to Red China, brainwashed to learn the details on an as-needed basis, mind-controlled to have no say in his actions.  He is shot down over the mainland along with an Air Force Major so caricatured in his manner that I wondered if Gaughan's art would depict him with straw coming out of his joints.

After much rigamarole, West finds himself in the presence of the current Communist leader, Mao III (do the Chinese give descendants appellations like that?) And then the true nature of West's mission is revealed…

Hayden Howard really isn't a very good writer, and there aren't actually any characters in this story–only marionettes who dance to the author's strings without any will of their own.  I also could have done without the word "Chink" used a couple dozen times.

What keeps the tale from getting just one star is this morbid fascination with how this wholly unrealistic scenario will turn out.  We're supposed to get the conclusion next month.  God willing, that'll be the end of the Esks, one way or another.

Two stars.

Return Match, by Philip K. Dick

The outspacers have gambling casinos across the galaxy.  The only problem?  They tend to be lethal for their patrons.  Joseph Tinbane, a cop for Superior Los Angeles, takes on the aliens' latest contraption: a pinball machine that evolves not only to be unbeatable, but ultimately to attack the player!

Dick's vivid writing is on display here, so there's nothing wrong with the reading.  But the concept is pure fantasy, up to and including the conclusion where Tinbane is menaced by giant pinballs.  I can only imagine that PKD turned on, dropped out, and dashed off this tale before the hallucinations disappeared from his memory.

Three stars.

For Your Information: Who Invented the Crossbow? by Willy Ley

Ley's latest piece is an interesting, but somehow perfunctory piece on the evolution of the crossbow.  A few more pages of Asimov treatment would have helped.

Three stars.

The Last Filibuster, by Wallace West

War between North and South America is averted when the governments of both nations are captured and impressed to do the fighting.

I like the sentiment: politicians would be a lot less willing to send their sons (and daughters) to war if their lives were on the line.  But the story is just sort of silly and obvious.

Besides, who could believe that an armed mob could invade the Capitol to kidnap Congress?  It beggars the imagination.

Two stars.

They Hilariated When I Hyperspaced For Earth, by Richard Wilson


by Vaughn Bodé

The leader of a boring world that has stalled in its progressive mediocrity comes to Earth to steal our Secretary General, an efficient Ugandan who knows how to get things done.  A lot of "comedy" ensues.

Not only is the story a bore, but I can't forgive it for getting "They all Laughed" stuck in my head.

Two stars.

The Trojan Bombardment, by Christopher Anvil

How we defeat an enemy without firing a shot?  Why by shooting shells filled with booze, cigarettes, and sexy ladies at them!  After all, that's what they're really fighting for, isn't it?

Fellow traveler Cora Buhlert recently noted that she can smell a Campbell reject a mile away, and Bombardment is almost assuredly an Anvil story too stupid even for Analog.

One star.

The Discovery of the Nullitron, by Thomas M. Disch and John Sladek

Speaking of stupid, here's another "funny" piece, in the style of a Scientific American article, on the new decidedly supra-atomic particle called the Nullitron, putatively discovered by the authors after a jag in Ibiza.

One star.

Thus We Frustrate Charlemagne, by R. A. Lafferty

A dozen of the Earth's greatest scientists team up with a computer to improve history.  Their first time traveling target: to salvage relations between Charlemagne and the Caliph, allowing Arabic knowledge to flow freely.  They will know that they have succeeded because all of their records will change before their eyes!

Of course, if they had read William Tenn's The Brooklyn Project, they'd know that, as part of the time stream themselves, they'd never know what had changed.

Still, it's kind of a fun piece.  The journey's the thing, not the destination.

Three stars.

The Palace of Love (Part 3 of 3), by Jack Vance


by Gray Morrow

The saving grace of this magazine is this final installment of Vance's latest serial.  Keith Gersen has tracked down Viole Falushe, one of the five "Demon Kings" crime lords who killed his parents, to the mobster's private domain.  The Palace of Love is a mystical retreat, designed to provide pleasure to discerning patrons.  But its staff and denizens are all slaves of Falushe, though they aren't completely aware of the fact.

Half of this last act involves the long, meandering road to Falushe's Palace of Love.  It is only in the final sixth that we learn the truth about the place, who Drusilla is and her relation to Falushe's object of childhood infatuation, Jheral Tinzy, and whether or not Gersen can succeed in his revenge.

I found it all gripping stuff.  Vance has a knack for sensual writing; you always know what things smell like, what color they are, how they sound.  Yet the prose is never overlabored.  If the first book in the series starts auspiciously and ends with a dull thud, this second one only has one slow patch, in its second sixth.

For that reason, I give this installment and the book as a whole four stars, and it'll be in the running for the Galactic Star at the end of the year.

Summing up

Even with Palace shoring things up, this month's Galaxy clocks in at a dismal 2.4 stars.  And given that the Vance is likely to end up published in paperback, it's probably not even worth buying this mag for the one story (unless, of course, you want the serial complete in original form).

I'll be surprised if Galaxy doesn't come in last this month.  I'll also be really disappointed in that event; I don't think I could easily face another, worse slog!

That would truly be the ugliest month I've ever seen…



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[January 8, 1967] So-So Historical, Delightful Doctor (Doctor Who: The Highlanders)

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By Jessica Holmes

Happy new year, everyone! The last year of Doctor Who brought us some pretty big changes. Companions came and went, there was a musical episode (please tell me I didn’t hallucinate that), and we even saw a change of Doctor. Where shall we go next, I wonder?

The first story of the year (and the last of last year) is The Highlanders (written by Elwyn Jones and Gerry Davis), a historical tale set in… well, the Highlands of Scotland, funnily enough. Lovely place, though perhaps not so lovely in the time period of the story, 1746, at the tail end of the Jacobite rebellion.

SOME HALF-REMEMBERED HISTORY

How to quickly sum up the Jacobite uprising? Once upon a time, there was a king of England and Scotland called James. James II/VII if we’re being precise. James wasn’t very popular for complicated religious and political reasons, so he lost his job. He did at least get to keep his head, which is more than a lot of deposed monarchs can say. A few years down the line, his grandson Charles Edward Stuart, a.k.a. ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’ started an uprising to reclaim the throne for his father, with the support of the Highland clans of Scotland. It did not go well. The British crushed Bonnie Prince Charlie’s army at the Battle of Culloden, and that was the end of that.

Here we pick up just after that fateful battle, when the dust is still settling…

EPISODE ONE

The Doctor and his companions arrive amidst the aftermath of the Battle of Culloden, where they almost immediately get themselves captured by a couple of Highlanders. The Highlanders bring them to a cottage, where they’re hiding with their wounded Laird (the Scottish equivalent of a Lord, played by Donald Bisset). These are Jamie McCrimmon (Frazer Hines), the Laird’s piper, and Alexander, the Laird’s son, who dies about five minutes in so we don’t need to waste any more words on him.

The Highlanders, believing the Doctor and company to be English spies, are about to kill them all when the Laird’s daughter Kirsty (Hannah Gordon) intervenes, hoping that the Doctor can help heal her father. The men are reluctant, until Ben snatches up a gun and threatens to finish the old man off if they won’t let the Doctor help.

Interesting bedside manner.

Polly disarms the Scots and goes off with Kirsty to fetch water, and then Ben proves himself to be absolutely rubbish at gun safety. This being the period where guns were just as likely to blow up in your face as they were to actually shoot your target, he accidentally makes it go off, attracting the attention of some nearby Redcoats, led by Lieutenant Algernon Ffinch (Michael Elwyn). Yes, two Fs.

The Redcoats burst in, killing the Laird’s son, and the Doctor has a brief panic over what nationality to fake to maximise his chances of survival, eventually settling on a terrible German accent. He introduces himself as Doktor Von Wer. Doctor Who? Yes, exactly.

Unfortunately, the Redcoats are going to kill them all anyway.

Elsewhere, a well-dressed figure surveys the battleground. This is solicitor Grey (David Garth), and his part in all this is his scheme to ship the survivors off to the colonies and sell them into slavery.

Charming chap.

On their way back from fetching water, the women spot the Redcoats preparing the gallows for their prisoners. Polly lobs a stone at them, attracting their attention. Rumour has it that the Prince has escaped in the guise of a woman, so Ffinch decides to pursue them.

Luckily for the prisoners, Grey soon arrives to put a halt to the hanging. In addition to being very dodgy, he’s also the commissioner of prisons, and has the paperwork to give him charge over all rebel prisoners.

And also money. Money helps.

Still pursued by Ffinch, Polly and Kirsty hide in a cave Kirsty’s clan uses for cattle-raiding. While deciding what to do, there’s a bit of tension when Kirsty balks at the idea of selling her father’s ring in order to buy supplies. Polly turns a little nasty, and Kirsty responds by pulling a knife on her. Have they checked that this ring isn’t holding the essence of some ancient evil that corrupts all who attempt to possess it? Just a thought.

Calling her a stupid peasant (manners, that’s the daughter of a Laird you’re talking to!), Polly goes off in a huff, and promptly falls into an animal trap. Serves her right for being rude if you ask me.

EPISODE TWO

In trying to help Polly out of the pit, Kirsty falls in too, and it’s not long before Ffinch catches up to them. After Kirsty gets a bit of sulking out of her system, she and Polly manage to lure Ffinch into the pit and rob him of his pistol and his money.

Polly and Kirsty blackmail Ffinch into helping them, given that it would be a bit of a setback for his career if his commanding officer was to find out that he got captured and robbed by a couple of girls.

Meanwhile in Inverness, the Doctor and company are languishing in a rather wet gaol. Everyone’s thoroughly miserable, except for the Doctor, who is starting to enjoy himself. The Doctor treats the Laird’s injury, though he has to invent some quackery to prevent the Scots calling his credentials as a physician into question. While doing so, he discovers that the Laird is carrying the Prince’s personal standard, and he holds on to it for safekeeping.

And then something truly horrible happens.

I can hardly bear to write it.

…He pulls out the recorder.

The rebels start singing along to the Doctor’s tune, attracting the attention of the guard. The Doctor, claiming to be a loyal subject of the King, demands to be taken to Grey.

Grey is a little busy at the moment, conspiring with an unsavoury fellow by the name of Trask (Dallas Cavell) to smuggle the prisoners aboard his vessel, there to be delivered to the Caribbean. Once Trask leaves, the Doctor baits the greedy Grey with the Prince’s standard, claiming he can help him track the rogue royal down and claim the bounty. Grey lets his guard down, and the Doctor wastes no time in relieving him of his weapon, and using the flag to gag him for good measure.

People are very careless in this story—always losing their guns.

Grey’s clerk, Perkins (Sydney Arnold), arrives a short time later, but the Doctor is able to distract and pacify him with some free medical care. He’s very attentive, asking the poor chap—between slamming the man’s head against the desk—if he happens to suffer from headaches.

On the one hand, I want to complain at this feeling grossly out of character for the typically non-violent Doctor. The days of trying to bash in people’s heads with rocks are long behind him.

On the other hand… it’s funny.

It’s really, really funny.

After committing assault and battery, the Doctor moves on to nick some food from the scullery, and then (as one does) dresses like an old woman. While in disguise, he spots the prisoners being escorted out and down to the jetty. There’s not much he can do about it yet, so poor Ben and Jamie have no choice but to board the waiting ship…and the only way off is in a shroud.

EPISODE THREE

Down in the hold of the ship, the other prisoners don’t take too kindly to Ben’s English accent, until the Laird intervenes on his behalf.

Meanwhile, Polly and Kirsty get themselves some new clothes and oranges so that they can pose as orange sellers. The Doctor spots them at the inn, but before he can make contact with them, the Sergeant from the earlier group of Redcoats also recognises them, and it’s only with Ffinch’s begrudging assistance that they manage to get away.

Ffinch points them in the direction of Grey, but as it turns out he’s busy giving the prisoners a choice about how they’d like to spend the rest of their lives: as a snitch, a slave, or at the end of a rope.

Ben tears up the contract, forcing Grey to go and get a new one, and earning him a nasty bang on the head.

At the inn, the girls are about ready to leave, but Grey’s clerk has found them, and he’s proving hard to shake. It seems that there’s more to this fool than meets the eye.

Luckily, there’s a friendly old wench nearby with a stolen gun.

The Doctor leaves with the girls, warning Perkins not to follow.

Don’t worry—the gun isn’t actually loaded. I think that would be a step too far. The Doctor and the girls discuss how to go ahead with rescuing their friends, but first things first, the Doctor wants a nap.

I think he’d better make it a quick one. Grey and Trask are almost ready to leave, but there’s a troublesome Englishman to be dealt with first.

One quick nap later, the Doctor’s gone and robbed the arsenal, and also realises something about that probably evil ring of Kirsty’s. It’s actually the Prince’s ring! Better than that, it’s bait.

The Doctor had best make haste, because Trask has just tied Ben up and chucked him into the sea. Ben had better be good at holding his breath.

EPISODE FOUR

Trask throws Ben overboard, but when the time comes to haul him back up, there’s nobody on the end of the rope. Ben’s a regular Houdini!

As he catches his breath on the shore, he gets accosted by an English sentry…or so he thinks. Yes, it’s the Doctor in yet another disguise. I think he’s really enjoying himself.

The group come up with a plan to rescue the Highlanders—though the women have to fight to be included.

On a stolen boat, Ben delivers the Doctor to the ship, where he adopts his Doktor von Wer ruse again. He shows Grey the Prince’s ring, and tells him he’s discovered the Prince is hidden among the Highlanders on the ship. Apparently Grey’s brain turns off when he sees something potentially valuable and shiny. He takes the bait, allowing the Doctor to lead him down into the hold…

Where the prisoners are all pretending to be asleep, Polly and Kirsty having handed them weapons through the porthole.

A lengthy fight ensues, with Jamie throwing Trask overboard in the ruckus. Trask’s crew surrender following the loss of their captain, and Grey and Perkins give themselves up.

Perkins is most certainly not a fool, and his desire not to go to prison outweighs any loyalty to (or fear of) Grey. As he happens to speak the language, he offers to join the Highlanders as they escape to France (a long-time ally of Scotland, and a supporter of the Jacobite cause).

Grey doesn’t take it well.

As the Highlanders sail off into the fog, Jamie accompanies the Doctor and company as they begin making their way back to the TARDIS (with Grey as a hostage). Unfortunately Grey escapes on the way, and the group needs another hostage to get past the English guards.

Poor Ffinch. This really isn’t his day, is it?

On their merry way once again, the group inform Ffinch of Grey’s nefarious dealings. However, they arrive back at the Laird’s home to find that Grey has beaten them to it, and he’s got some soldiers with him.

Grey claims that the whole business with transporting the prisoners was perfectly legal, but surprise, surprise, he can’t produce the appropriate paperwork. An outraged Ffinch orders him arrested, and it seems all’s well that ends well.

But what happened to the contracts Grey made the prisoners sign? That’s easy. The Doctor nicked them.

Having nowhere else to go, Jamie joins the TARDIS crew, and off they go, on to the next adventure.

Final Thoughts

Something that struck me about this serial is how violent it is for Doctor Who. We’ve got Ben holding people at gunpoint, Polly committing armed robbery, the Doctor himself getting his hands dirty, plus all the inherent violence of the setting. I am in two minds about all this. I had always liked how the Doctor and company usually solve their problems with their wits rather than with their fists. It’s a much better example to set for the children.

Oh, dear. I must be getting old.

On the other hand, I cannot stress enough how funny Troughton is. I can’t very well wag my finger when I’m too busy rolling on the floor.

Take the scene where the Doctor ‘examines’ Perkins’ head. Played straight, it would be a horrible act of violence, but the thing to bear in mind is that Troughton doesn’t drop the absurd faux-German accent throughout the entire spectacle. The dialogue and comic timing are impeccable, though they feel like they came from a different script altogether. It’s like the Doctor is in a different serial to everyone else. To be clear, I like the Doctor’s side of things a lot better. The rest of the serial is mostly just stuff I have to watch to get back to whatever funny thing the Doctor is doing.

The humour in itself is a problem, however. Don’t get me wrong, I like it and I wish more of the serial was this funny– but it creates a real tone problem. It’s something we’ve seen before, and the historical stories tend to be particularly prone to this tonal issue. On the one hand, they contain some of the most sinister subject matter in Doctor Who (slavery, civil war, murder), but on the other they’re often dotted with moments of incongruous humour. Or just plain WEIRD stuff like musical narration.

Still, it’s an enjoyable enough serial, and it’s fairly interesting, plot-wise. It’s rather light on the educational content and historical context, but as I think I probably said the last time we had a historical story, this programme has long since given up any pretense of trying to teach children anything. Jamie seems like a nice chap, and he’s certainly very capable, so I’m sure he’ll do well in the TARDIS. Hopefully we won’t have another Katarina situation. I wonder where they’ll end up next?

My rating: 3 out of 5 stars




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[January 6, 1967] Happy Anniversary (February 1967 Amazing)

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by John Boston

January 6!  A portentous anniversary!  On this day in 1838, Samuel Morse publicly demonstrated the telegraph, sending a message two miles; and in 1912, German geophysicist Alfred Wegener announced his theory of the continental drift, to much skepticism until very recently.


by Arnold Kahn

The February 1967 Amazing is here too, in a burst of bright yellow surrounding a glum-looking guy who seems to have a head problem.  The table of contents captions Arnold Kahn’s cover as Slaves of the Crystal Brain; research reveals it first appeared as the cover of the May 1950 Amazing, where the head was bordered in black rather than yellow.  It is hard to imagine why anyone thought the change to be an improvement.  However, the subject’s disgruntled expression so acutely characterizes the issue that I fear my comments may be superfluous.

Born Under Mars (Part 2 of 2), by John Brunner

The prolific and versatile John Brunner has provided us with such thoughtful works as The Whole Man and such well-turned entertainments as Echo in the Skull.  Born Under Mars, unfortunately, is neither, though it might be viewed as a caricature of both, with an overstuffed action plot against a background of Big Thinks that seem to have been drawn with a crayon.


by Gray Morrow

In the future, Earth has established interstellar colonies, their nations and residents known as Centaurs and Bears respectively.  Mars, earlier colonized, has become unfashionable and neglected in this new and larger configuration, and its inhabitants are a bit resentful about it.  These include Ray Mallin, a space engineer who has just returned to Mars on a Centaur ship, only to find himself kidnapped and tortured with a nerve whip to obtain information he does not have about the ship he arrived on. 

There ensues much to-ing and fro-ing as Mallin tries to find out what is going on, including reliance on outrageous coincidence: Mallin, at the Old Temple containing ancient Martian artifacts, pushes on a random spot on the wall, which opens to reveal the room where he was nerve-whipped, along with one of the perpetrators.  He returns the favor of torture and interrogation but his former tormentor knows nothing. 

Eventually Mallin corners his old mentor Thoder and the Big Thinks begin to emerge.  Humanity is stagnating, with no major scientific breakthroughs for a couple of centuries, and needs to get a lot smarter.  How?  They don’t really know, but “a pair of strongly opposed societies was devised: the Bears, happy-go-lucky, casual, living life as it came, and the Centaurs, thinking hard about everything and especially about their descendants.” In effect they are trying eugenics by bank shot: creating societies to order to see if either one of them breeds—literally—the intellectual superpeople who are needed (i.e., those who have “a talent—extra psychological muscle if you like”). 

And who contrived all this, and how did they manage to keep it secret, and what rational basis is there to believe that anyone can create societies to order and have them stick to the program for the generations necessary for this project?  How is manipulating social arrangements and behavior going to jump-start human heredity?  Is Lamarck consulting on this project?  There’s no pretense of an explanation; these large concepts are merely brandished like slogans on placards.

But—the author asserts—it’s worked!  Six generations early, in fact, unto the Centaurs is born an infant who will have “an IQ at the limits of the measurable, empathy topping 2000, Weigand scale, and virtually every heritable talent from music to mathematics, all transmissible to his descendants!” And he’s here!  He’s, as Hitchock would put it, the macguffin everyone has been chasing after, torturing Mallin en passant because this miracle child, kidnapped, was brought to Mars on the ship Mallin rode on. 

So what’s the plan?  Educate him on Mars.  “Then, when he’s grown, to use the random mixing of genetic lines available in Bear society to spread a kind of ferment through half the human race.” In other words, this kid is intended to grow up to be a playboy in interstellar Bohemia, and that’s how humanity will be transformed.

But wait—now somebody has snatched the kid away from the people who snatched the kid!  More hurly-burly ensues, along with more elevated yakety-yak, and in the last 20 pages a Girl emerges for the hero to get.  And there’s a redeeming note: she wants to know what the hell all these people are doing treating an infant like nothing but an object to be manipulated, which doesn’t seem to have occurred to anyone previously.

Born Under Mars is another of many examples of pseudo-profundity in SF: the semblance of large ideas waved around without the author’s doing the work of thinking them through and making them plausible, or abandoning them when their implausibility becomes obvious.  Brunner is certainly not the only offender of this sort, but he seems sufficiently capable that I expected better of him.

Bah, humbug.  Oh, wait, that was last month.  Two stars, mainly for effort.

Tumithak of the Corridors, by Charles R. Tanner

“Special,” says the cover, about Charles R. Tanner’s Tumithak of the Corridors—a “complete novel” at 56 pages per the table of contents.  The interior blurb calls it “as good as early Wells, as fresh as the latest Zelazny.” And indeed this story, from the January 1932 Amazing, does have a certain reputation among older fans.


by Leo Morey

It seems that humans made it to Venus, whose inhabitants, called shelks for no reason I can discern, had no idea there was anything outside their eternal clouds.  But once they found out, they proceeded straightway to build their own space fleet (“All over the planet, the great machine-shops hummed and clattered”) to invade Earth.  Earth responded by creating great underground fastnesses, full of corridors of sorts, and after losing the war, humans fled into their deepest recesses and regressed to ignorance and barbarism.  But—of course—one brave young man will not accept humanity’s fate.  He has found an old book that recounts the history of the shelks’ invasion, and he is going to find his way the surface to kill a shelk!

This mass of cliches actually turns into a pretty good old-fashioned story.  Tanner’s style is clear and uncluttered.  Tumithak is presented as heroic but not superhuman.  His odyssey through the corridors, including the territories of other human tribes (one of them not too friendly), manages not to become any more ridiculous than the starting premises, except for a portion towards the end in the territory of the Esthetts (sic!) which is all right because it’s purposefully satirical.  Altogether, the story is a fairly charming relic.  Three stars, and by the standards of its times it would merit more.

Methuselah, Ltd., by Wallace West and Richard Barr

Methuselah, Ltd. (from Fantastic, November-December 1953), is as you might guess about immortality, or its absence.  In the future, disease, disability, and aging have been conquered by the Life Ray, but people still die around age 90.  Dr. Weinkopf, age 88, would like to do something about this, and he thinks it has something to do with the pineal gland, and with “brain sand”—calcareous salts with a “concentric laminated structure” found in the brain after death, it says here.  Surgery has been made illegal, but there is an underground Society for the Preservation of Surgical Techniques that performs operations in speakeasy fashion before an audience of sadists.  Dr. Weinkopf hopes to piggyback on a brain tumor operation to remove the pineal and dig out the brain sand.  But the patient, hearing talk of this plan, chickens out and leaves.  By the rules of the Society, the jilted surgeon must be subjected to surgery himself, so the doctor chooses to have his nurse do the surgery on him, with predictable bad end looming as the story ends.  This is apparently intended as a sort of farcical black comedy, but it’s not especially funny and is just as big a mess as my description suggests.  The authors should improve their farce technique by studying the works of Ron Goulart—not the kind of sentence I ever expected to write.  One star.

The Man with Common Sense, by Edwin James


by Leo Morey

The other reprinted short story, from the July 1950 Amazing, is The Man with Common Sense, by Edwin James, an early pseudonym of James E. Gunn.  It’s another dreary farce, though better-wrought than Methuselah, Ltd.  Malachi Jones is a “dapper, wizened little man” equipped with cane and derby hat who is an interstellar insurance agent for Lairds of Luna.  Lairds has issued a policy guaranteeing peace on Mizar II, and Jones is there to make sure Lairds doesn’t have to pay off.  He tames the planet’s rebels and makes peace in the accidental company of one Rand Ridgeway, who is distinguished mainly by his stupidity (en route, he takes his shoes off and forgets to put them back on).  Two stars, barely.  Here’s another case for Ron Goulart.

Two Days Running and Then Skip a Day, by Ron Goulart


by Gray Morrow

Speaking of Ron Goulart, here is the man himself, with the issue’s only new short story, Two Days Running and Then Skip a Day.  Goulart has been on a tear about the medical profession for a while; see his Calling Dr. Clockwork in the March 1965 Amazing, about a man who winds up in the hospital and then can’t get out, and Terminal, in the May 1965 Fantastic, about a nursing home system designed mainly to get rid of the troublesome elderly and the even more troublesome investigators.  Here, Goulart tees off, or I should say flails in all directions, against celebrity doctors who can’t be bothered with their patients, robot assistants of dubious competence, modern apartments and appliances that are badly built, sleazy landlords, and I probably missed something.  It’s insubstantial but amusing, which seens to sum this writer up, and to compare favorably with Gunn and West/Barr, whose entries are merely insubstantial.  Three stars, barely.

Summing Up

As I said at the beginning, the expression on the cover acutely captures the contents of the issue, and requires no elaboration.


by Arnold Kahn (detail)

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




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[January 4, 1967] Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast (Star Trek: Shore Leave)

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by Erica Frank

We join the Enterprise on Stardate 3025. The crew has had a rough few months and desperately needs some downtime. Fortunately, they have found what seems to be an ideal uninhabited planet for shore leave.

While the planet seems almost fairy-tale idyllic, with open meadows and pastoral lakes and meandering paths, it is soon clear that something strange is afoot. McCoy sees what he is sure is a hallucination: A man-sized rabbit holding a pocketwatch, muttering "I'm late" before hopping out of sight.


Not what we expected on an alien planet.

But the scan results are clear: No animal life found on the planet. No birds, no mammals, no insects.

Nobody asks why there are paths through the woods and around the lake, if there are no creatures to make them. Nobody asks why there are tree stumps. Nobody asks what's pollinating the flowers. …Nobody notices the antenna that tracks their movements.

A Grin Without a Cat

They split up to investigate, and Kirk finds someone who cannot possibly be here: Finnegan, a fellow he knew from the Academy. Finnegan was a practical joker who targeted Kirk all the time.


He looks like a fun fellow. (This looks like the ship's uniforms, but it's sparkling silver. How many outfits does Starfleet have?)

Finnegan immediately throws a punch at the Captain, but their fight is cut short when other crew members are in danger—Kirk rushes off to protect Barrows from Don Juan. Then Sulu gets chased by a samurai while the other team hides from a tiger. Spock beams down into this mess, and they discover their phasers aren't working and communications are down: they'll have to deal with the planet's problems on their own.

McCoy decides, "This is all hallucinations," and gets himself stabbed by a charging knight. It seems McCoy has forgotten every hallucination-inflicting alien they've encountered so far, starting with the salt vampire: The lance may be a hallucination, but the damage is real. If he thinks it's all hallucinations, why did he encourage Yeoman Barrows to swap her uniform for the princess dress they found? Is he happily imagining that she's actually wandering around naked?

While the team looks for answers, Finnegan reappears. Kirk, never one to skip out on a fight, chases him. Finnegan is tricky and tough, but Kirk refuses to give up.


I like Finnegan. He can punch the shirt off strapping young captains.

Kirk fights better once his shirt is torn. (I think Kirk gets special tear-away uniforms to enhance his fighting skills.) He eventually overcomes Finnegan, as he never could as a student, and grins. Spock, bemused that Kirk enjoyed the fight, realizes what's happening: Something is reading their thoughts and providing them the exact experiences they're seeking, even if those are dangerous.

They need to warn the others and figure out how to stop it. But first: They must escape the tiger and an airstrike! (Did the producers just have some airstrike footage they wanted to use? The samurai wasn't dangerous enough?) Kirk and Spock dodge for shelter together, pulling each other to safety as they dodge dangers from land and sky.


I'm sure this embrace was very relevant to the plot.

The surviving crew members meet back at the Glade. A very angry Kirk demands they stand at attention, not even thinking, while he looks around for… something, someone.

A man in a green robe walks out to greet them. He's the caretaker of this place, a kind of amusement park: Anything you imagine can be your exciting adventure here.

Kirk points out that adventures are substantially less fun when people die—but it turns out nobody is dead; McCoy was healed in their underground facilities. No harm done, all in good fun, and so on.


The druidic version of Mr. Green Jeans remains nameless.

Kirk asks the caretaker who his people are, but he demurs: "Your race is not yet ready to understand us." However, he welcomes them to enjoy the planet. With communications restored, Kirk orders the other teams to beam down for their shore leave.

This was a delightful episode. I believe this is the first time we've encountered godlike telepathic and technological powers that are not used to threaten and control people.

I hope to see more aliens like this, an advanced race that uses its abilities for peaceful, benevolent purposes. They aren't going to share their technology with still-warlike humans, but they open their vacation resort to those who need a break from their busy lives.

Five stars. Fun to watch, a return of Shirtless Kirk, and an immensely satisfying conclusion.

“Drink Me”


by Janice L. Newman

This was a fun and rollicking episode. At the same time, I found it unsettling.

In order for the story to work, the crew have to behave in ways that are out of character for a military crew. Not only do they not seem to notice the discrepancies Erica noted above, but they allow themselves to be distracted, separated, and discombobulated throughout the story. When Kirk meets his childhood sweetheart, he can’t take his eyes off her, unable to finish his sentences even as he’s having an important conversation with a member of his crew. Yeoman Barrows has no hesitation about changing into a fairy-tale dress she randomly finds, and McCoy has no hesitation in urging her to do it. When Sulu finds a gun under a rock, he picks it up and starts firing it.

These are not the actions of trained specialists.

The only thing that really makes sense is to assume that the planet has a built-in relaxing effect on the mind. Whether there’s some sort of drug in the air or something even more sophisticated — perhaps some sort of ray along the lines of what we saw in “Dagger of the Mind”, except this one causes mild euphoria instead of forgetfulness — it’s a little disturbing.

It’s perfectly logical that such a planet might have “something in the air” intended to help its visitors let go of their cares and worries. The people and things they encounter aren’t real, after all, and this might have a dampening effect if one thinks about it too hard (Kirk’s first love was nothing but a complex robot, yet even knowing this, he doesn’t hesitate to take his own shore leave at the end of the episode, very clearly looking forward to enjoying her charms). Some kind of ‘euphoria effect’ that helps the attendees of this planet-sized amusement park suspend disbelief in order to enjoy themselves seems almost a necessity.

However, the crew encounters and is influenced by whatever it is without any chance to say ‘no, thank you’. Even at the end, Kirk tells the Enterprise to start beaming people down, presumably with the intent of informing them of what kind of planet it is, but never mentions the euphoria effect. Do the crew even realize their minds have been affected? Will they recognize it after they leave?

As someone who values her ability to think in a straight line, I found the idea of being drugged without my knowledge disconcerting at best, and outright violative at worst. Not to mention, we don’t know how far the effect goes. Could it become addictive over time? Could it have other long-term consequences?

The existence of the euphoria effect is all extrapolation anyway, so maybe it shouldn’t bother me so much. But the alternative, that the crew just behaved unprofessionally and out-of-character for no reason at all, is even worse! Either way, it knocked the episode down for me a little, bringing it to three and a half stars.

”Pleasure Planet”


by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)

When we think of science fiction, we don’t often consider what entertainment will look like in the future. Our technology is so advanced that it’s hard to imagine what we might be able to accomplish in our lifetimes, let alone in the distant future–and so often, science fiction focuses on the advanced ways we might harm each other. But how about how we might please each other, or ourselves? Color television is the pinnacle of modern entertainment, and it seems that, in every episode, with marvelous plots and better special effects, Star Trek keeps pushing those boundaries.
“Shore Leave” conceives an entirely new level of entertainment.

Currently, Disneyland is the only thing that comes close, and if you’ve ever had the chance to visit, you’ll understand the boldness of that statement. But where Disneyland brings one man's imagination to life (that of Walt Disney, sadly gone from this world as of last month), "Shore Leave" presents an entire planet designed to grant your every wish. Maybe calling that an amusement park is an understatement, but there’s no better way to describe the way my head is still spinning with all the things that I would love to do if granted that opportunity.

Though, with all its ability, it seemed that the planet required a bit of suspension of disbelief on the part of the participants to be fully engaged. Maybe the planet was causing the landing crew to be less restrained. It’s not too much of a stretch to believe that the planet was also able to put people’s minds at ease. The vision is really what’s important. The point was to create a pleasure planet, and they accomplished that.

We, the audience, know that it’s not real. Even the emotional McCoy eventually determined that it wasn’t. It didn't keep him from being run through with a lance, but that’s beside the point. Of course, McCoy wasn’t permanently harmed in the process of fulfilling any fantasies, but he also couldn't fully enjoy himself until he let go of his inhibitions. It wasn’t until Kirk gave into his desire to “beat the tar out of Finnegan” that he was able to take full advantage of the planet’s capabilities. It was never made clear as to why the crew was acting a bit strange, but maybe this is just a reminder that suspending my own disbelief might make this a more enjoyable experience.

If entertainment comes anywhere close to this in the future, we’re in for a treat. Until then, I’m looking forward to the next episode of Star Trek on my color television.

Four stars.

Getting to know you


by Gideon Marcus

We've gotten hints of Captain Kirk's background before "Shore Leave"–we knew he was a stack of books with legs in his Academy days.  That he almost married a blonde woman Gary Mitchell steered his way.  And that he suffered on Tarsus IV under the iron hand of Governor Kodos. But for the most part, the history of James Kirk has been a mystery.

In one swell foop, we get confirmation that Kirk was "positively grim", we learn that he once deeply loved an older woman (the "blonde"?), that he was hounded by an upperclassman named Finnegan.  We also find out that the Captain enjoys an occasional Vulcanian backrub; I imagine Spock has special nerve pinches for tight lumbars.

Also fleshed out is McCoy, who finally gets to carouse after his traumatic "reunification" with a former flame back in "The Man Trap".  The doctor is quite charming, really, and I can see why he caught the eye of Yeoman Barrows (though I have to wonder if this relationship would have been kindled elsewhere than in the befuddling airs of the Shore Leave planet).

And finally, we're learning something about the universe as a whole.  There are three types of science fiction universe: those with lots of aliens, those with few aliens, and those with only humans.  Star Trek clearly takes place in the first of those types of settings.  We have seen almost as many races as we've watched episodes.  Most of them are indistinguishable from humans, but the Talosians, Vulcanians, Romulans and Thasians make clear that there are far out aliens as well.

So numerous are the aliens, and so familiar are the forms of many of them, that I suspect there will be some kind of explanation for the phenomenon.  "Miri" already has suggested one.  I look forward to the revelation when it happens.

In any event, a poll of our usual watching crew has elicited a wide range of appraisals for "Shore Leave", from 3 to 5.  For myself, there was never a moment I was not thoroughly enjoying the episode.

Five stars.

And come join us watching the next episode tomorrow at 8:30 PM (Eastern and Pacific):

Here's the invitation!



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[January 2, 1967] Different perspectives (February 1967 IF)

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by David Levinson

We all know the adage about walking a mile in someone else’s shoes. Trying to see the world through others’ eyes is a good way to understand them, and that can help ease tensions and make it easier to find compromises. Of course, it’s also possible to come up with some pretty ridiculous ideas about the way other people think.

Failures of diplomacy

At the end of 1965, I wrote about the troubles in the British colony of Rhodesia. The white minority government refuses to consider the idea of granting equal rights or a role in government to Black Rhodesians. Early in December, British Prime Minister Harold Wilson, Rhodesian Prime minister Ian Smith, and ousted Rhodesian Governor General Humphrey Gibbs met aboard the HMS Tiger to try to hash out a solution. Smith left with a proposal he seemed willing to accept, but rejected it out of hand as soon as he returned to Salisbury. In response on December 16th, the United Nations Security Council approved an oil embargo and economic sanctions against Rhodesia 11-0, with France, the Soviet Union, Mali and Bulgaria abstaining. Four days later, Wilson withdrew all offers and announced that the United Kingdom would only accept a Black majority government. On the 22nd, as the trade ban was about to go into effect, Smith declared that the U. N. had forced Rhodesia out of British control and out of the British Commonwealth, making the country an independent republic by default.

Bechuanaland to Rhodesia's south may have peacefully become Botswana last year, but it seems that most of southern Africa is ready to go up in flames. While dealing with the condemnation of the rest of the world, the Smith government is also fighting two Black nationalist movements. Meanwhile, armed resistance is developing against South Africa’s illegal control of South West Africa, and armed independence movements are appearing in the Portuguese overseas provinces of Angola and Mozambique (formerly Portuguese West and East Africa respectively). If any of these embers becomes a conflagration, it’s hard to see how this won’t also spill over into South Africa as well.


Wilson returns with what looked like an acceptable deal, but Smith swiftly vetoed it.

Through alien eyes

John Campbell supposedly said he wanted someone to write an alien that “thinks as well as a man, but not like a man.” At least one author in this month’s IF makes a pretty good attempt at doing so. Others at least offer characters trying to understand how aliens (and in one case a door) think.


At least they aren’t even pretending this illustrates something in the magazine. Art by Wenzel

The Soft Weapon, by Larry Niven

A dozen years after the discovery that the galactic core is exploding, the mad (not because of his manic-depression, but because he’s courageous) puppeteer Nessus has hired Jason and Anne-Marie Papandreou, who operate the passenger ship Court Jester, to take him to see the Outsiders in deep space. While concluding his unspecified business, Nessus has also purchased a stasis box, an item potentially containing a piece of technology from the long-gone Slaver empire. On the way back, Jay decides to make a detour to Beta Lyrae, hoping the sight will snap Nessus out of his funk.

There, they fall into the clutches of the kzinti Chuft-Captain and the crew of the Traitor’s Claw. Among other things, the box proves to contain a strange device which can change its shape. Some of the settings include a rocket booster and a talking computer, but the device also seems capable of converting matter to usable energy with perfect efficiency. It’s up to Jay to use what he thinks the device is in order to escape with his wife and client and keep a dangerous technology from winding up in the hands of kzinti.


Jay discovers a hidden setting. Art by Gaughan

Niven has given us insight into the kzinti mind before and goes into greater detail here. We also get his speculation on what might be valued in a society of sentients descended from herbivores. The action is done fairly well, we have a female character who isn’t just motivation for the protagonist, and the story flows quite well. This might be the best thing Niven has written yet.

A high four stars.

Gods of Dark and Light, by Bruce McAllister

Gregory Shawn is a member of a religious movement which has come to V-Planet-14 to live according to their own rules. Things aren’t going well. Most of the story consists of Gregory’s prayers as the harsh conditions test and shape the group’s faith. These are interspersed with the prayers of one of the native life forms.

There isn’t much to say about this one. I think McAllister has something he’s trying to say, but it’s not entirely clear. The whole thing is very dark.

Two stars.

Forest in the Sky, by Keith Laumer

The Terran Mission to the planet Zoon is having trouble finding the natives. It turns out the Groaci have beaten the CDT to the punch, though they aren’t doing any better. Once again, it’s Retief to the rescue.


The Terran Mission sets off to look for the local government. Art by Castellon

I noted back in October that Laumer seemed to be having fun with Retief again. That still seems to be the case, but while this is more than just going through the motions, it’s still the same old formula. If you’re new to Retief, this is probably a lot of fun. Otherwise it’s palatable, but more of the same.

A low three stars.

The Fan Awards, by Lin Carter

This month, Our Man in Fandom takes a look at the Hugos. Carter traces the development of the award and tells us a bit about who Hugo was. Next month, he promises to talk about some of the Hugo winners and to look at the new Nebula Awards from the Science Fiction Writers of America.

Three stars.

The Iron Thorn (Part 2 of 4), by Algis Budrys

Hunting his first Amsir, Honor White Jackson learns that his prey is an intelligent being with better technology than his own people have. Eventually, he decides to defect to the Amsir and is taken to their home, a deep bowl filled with dense air and greenery. A vision of his people’s paradise. But paradise it is not. The food of the Amsir is poisonous to humans, and Jackson faces death by starvation. His only hope is to find a way into the Thorn Thing, a short metal tower with a locked door at the top of a ladder. The door instantly destroys any Amsir attempting to go through it after issuing a warning in an unknown language. The only one who can get close is Ahmuls, who is deformed in such a way that he resembles humans more than he does Amsir. If the door likes humans, then presumably there’s something Jackson can eat on the other side. As this installment ends, Jackson convinces the door to open and dives through, followed by Ahmuls and the spears of the Amsir.

To be continued.


Jackson enters the Thorn Thing. Art by Gray Morrow

This story certainly moves fast. Nothing feels as rushed as it did in the first part, but Budrys isn’t wasting any time. I have some suspicions about what’s going on. Much of that will probably be resolved next month, though I have no idea how it will all be wound up.

Three stars.

Confession, by Robert Ray

Father Hume sits on his veranda, waiting for the oppressive heat of an Australian afternoon in the back of beyond to dissipate. He closes his eyes for a moment, but must have nodded off, since there is suddenly a stranger in his back garden. A stranger who would like the Father to hear his confession, but can’t wait until church tomorrow. What Father Hume hears will change his life and, hopefully, the world.

On first reading, this seemed like the sort of story you read, don’t mind and then forget. As I’ve thought about it, though, some other aspects have occurred to me. I can’t really say anything without giving the whole story away and ruining its impact, but it’s a little better than I first credited it.

A solid three stars.

The Evil Ones, by Richard Wilson

Wally Hengsen beat a murder charge with an insanity plea. Now, he’s biding his time until his organization can bust him out. When an alien spaceship lands on the grounds of the rest home, he starts looking for an angle to play, but a reminder of events in New Guinea during the War sets him on a different path.


Hengsen wonders if he really does belong in an asylum. Art by Vaughn Bodé

This is a decent story. It sags in a couple of places, and Hengsen’s change of heart relies so much on a flashback that it feels a little out of place. On the other hand, it does finish strongly, which is probably enough.

Three stars.

The Dangers of Deepspace, by Mather H. Walker

A colonel of the Deepspace service is interviewing a volunteer and seems to be doing his best to discourage the young man from signing up.

Here we have this month’s first-time author. The whole thing is very obvious, doesn’t entirely make sense and isn’t worth your time. The nicest thing I can say is that the prose is serviceable.

Barely two stars.

A Beachhead for Gree, by C. C. MacApp

Steve Duke and friends go behind enemy lines. They make contact with the locals, use a ruse to infiltrate an enemy base and thwart Gree’s plans.


This time the locals are humanoids who can build wings for themselves. Art by Burns.

I’m going to make several carbons of that summary and whenever a Gree story appears, I’ll just cut one out and paste it into my manuscript. Will this interminable series never end?

Two stars.

Summing up

No matter how you look at it, this month’s IF is par for the course. One really good story, some decent stuff and some junk. And as good as it’s been so far, the serial needs to start paying off next month. At least we have the special Hugo edition to look forward to next month. The authors are good, but will they offer up their best stuff?


No mention of Frank Herbert this time. Hmmmm.




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