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[April 6, 1968] The mountain of despair (the murder of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.)

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by Dana Pellebon

On April 4, 1968, my world changed and I wasn’t even aware of how much. My day was as any other. Go to work, come home, make dinner, do a little reading, and go to bed. Yet, on April 5th, the horror of opening my newspaper made my world stop. Front Page. Dr. King Murdered. As the paper slipped from my hands, gravity took my body and the tears now flowing to the floor. Who? How? I tried to read the words on the now wet pages, but I couldn’t escape the feeling of intense pain and sadness. When you’ve lived through a man shepherding you and the world through progress, what does it mean when he’s not here? I ached for his wife and children. I dreaded the moment I had to move my body to figure out what was next.


Civil rights leader Andrew Young (L) and others on balcony of Lorraine motel pointing in direction of assailant after a shot mortally wounded Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  Photograph by Joseph Louw

Somehow I got off the floor to ready myself for work. The bus there was filled with other Negroes like me silently crying. At the next to last stop downtown, a small group of men came on the bus and were very loud about ridding the world of another one of “them”.  I straightened my head, methodically dried my tears, and looked right in their direction. My steel gaze was met with some chagrin on their part and blessed silence. It was in that moment that I knew I would never let another one of them see me cry ever again.

I hear there is a work strike coming up. Already people are mobilizing. There’s rumblings on the radio about the riot in Memphis and DC. I read the words of Robert Kennedy talking about his brother’s death and how he too was killed by a white man. How we should not take this time for violence but instead for compassion. I want to take in these words of reconciliation but my heart is cold and distant from such talk. 

I believed in the dream of Dr. King. Nonviolence begets understanding and peace. He may be targeted but he was special. Malcom X was killed because of who he was. Dr. King would stay alive because of who he was. Or, so I thought. My naïveté was on full display as I realized that him dying was the only inevitable outcome for whites who hated his message. My new understanding that peace and conflict are natural bedmates. As I step into this world without Dr. King, I must ask myself, what is next?

This is the question for the Negro. Without our great Shepherd, how does this flock move through the pasture? Who leads the next part of the movement? What legacy of his can we grab of our own to continue to shape the world into a just and equitable future? I don’t know what the path forward is and how to get there, but I think of the last words Dr. King said the night before he was murdered and I know in this moment and the next and the next, every thing I do will be to realize the vision of our collective promised land. 

“Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”


Dr. King, giving his last speech at Mason Temple, Memphis, on April 3.


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

When morning finds me, I read the newspaper. Earlier and earlier these days, as my newborn moves towards infancy and begins to make his own dawn schedule.

It was one of Will Roger’s favorite lines: “All I know is just what I read in the papers.” As a Cherokee man born in land that was treaty promised and greed taken, he knew better than most how wrong the press can be. But still, it’s the only first draft of history many of us are privileged to see.

Which is what makes reading it while nursing my baby so strange some days. Like a few weeks ago, when, on a single page, these were the headlines:

  • "Policeman Admits He’s a Klansman"
  • "‘Oakland in 1983: Over Half Negro’"
  • "Commission Warns: Spend Billions or Face Rebellion"
  • "‘Had To Tell It Like It Is’ — Riot Report Jolts Congress"
  • "Policeman’s Lot Not a Happy One"

On mornings like this when decency weeps, a page like that perhaps only has one or two truly true things in it. One, I suspect, is from the "Commission" report breathlessly exaggerated in the headlines, whose full and proper title is “Report of the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders;” that commission includes the former Illinois governor Otto Kerner Jr., leading Congressmen from both parties, and Atlanta Police Chief Herbert Jenkins. The paper says of the report:

“For instance, the commission said, belief is widely held that riot cities were paralyzed by sniper fire. Of 23 cities surveyed, there were reports of sniping in 14. And probably there was some sniping, the commission said, but: “According to the best information available to the commission, most reported sniping incidents were demonstrated to be gunfire by either police or National Guardsmen.’”

There’s a lot of passive voice in there, unfortunately common with newspapers’ coddling of police officers’ egos (see the unsourced and useless sob piece in the bottom left hand corner). But those “sniping incidents” included a mother shot in the back and murdered inside her own home during a riot as she tried to pull her 2 year old to safety, away from the glass window.

I hold my baby tighter as I read that.

In another powerful moment, the paper says:

"Asked why the panel made such a hard-hitting report, Harris said: 'We all knew these things intellectually – but we didn't feel it in the pit of our stomachs.

'We want people to see this as we did. We thought we had to tell it like it is.'

Another commissioner returned from a ghetto inspection tour and switched his position on one issue, remarking:

'I'll be a son-of-a-gun. You might be 99 miles further to the left than I thought I would be.'"'

Another bit of truth came from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, as it so often does. He called the report “a monumental revelation of what we had seen since the burning fires of Watts.”

The report laid the blame for the riots on centuries of white racism and systemic lack of funding in Black communities. It prescribed deep and meaningful investment in those communities to try to make back some of the time that was stolen (the “billions” listed in the third headline, as if we don’t spend “billions” in Vietnam every year).

Reports of commissions like that are the second, or even third drafts of history. I suspect they get it right more often than they do not.

I heard on the radio last night that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was shot and murdered in Memphis. The radio report wasn’t even the first draft of history, maybe just the notes for a future draft. Later, Bobby Kennedy came on, said something like:

“My favorite poet was Aeschylus. He wrote: ‘In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.’”


Robert F. Kennedy, speaking in Indianapolis, April 4.

I don’t know what the headlines will read today or tomorrow or when the killer is caught, if he is caught. A lot of people hate Dr. King, blame him for the riots. God knows the newspapers did in their first drafts. But reports like the Kerner Commission, they tell us the true causes, lay blame at the right doors.

Until then, until we know more about what happened than we read in the newspapers, I’ll stick with Senator Kennedy, who knows at least something about surviving deaths by violence. I'll try to find some wisdom in the awful grace of God. I’ll try to think about one of Will Roger’s other great quotes, “It's not what we don't know that hurts. It’s what we know that ain’t so.”

I’ll keep trying to teach that to my baby, the things I thought I knew from the papers that I now know aren’t so. I'll try to tell it like it is, as much as I can for someone of his small size. And I'll hold him just a little tighter.


by Mona Jones

My husband calls me from the living room. Any other day, I might think him or Big Mama needed a drink of water. But something about his voice sends a shiver down my spine. He calls me again.

“Mona, you better get in here.”

I walk into the living room just in time to hear a recording of Robert Kennedy over the radio say, “Some very sad news for all of you and, I think, sad news for all of our fellow citizens and people who love peace all over the world. And that is that Martin Luther King was shot and was killed tonight in Memphis. . .”

The rest of his words are drowned by the deafening cries of those in attendance of his last-minute press conference. Mabel must sense a change in the air because she leaves her uncle in the kitchen to come wrap her skinny little arms around my waist. “Mama, what’s wrong? Did something bad happen?”

She’s looking up at me for answers and I have no idea what to say. Even if the cries of the people on the air hadn’t drowned on Mr. Kennedy’s voice, I’m sure the blood rushing in my ears would’ve done the same. Thomas walks up to stand in the archway with me as Mr. Kennedy keeps talking.

“Martin Luther King dedicated his life to love and to justice between fellow human beings. He died in the cause for that effort.”

Even from our little home in Indianapolis, I can already imagine the streets of my hometown in D.C. filling with people with a whole lot of rage and hurt with nowhere to direct it but at themselves. I clutch my little girl closer to my side.

“On this difficult day and in this difficult time for the United States, it’s perhaps well to ask what kind of a nation we are and what direction we want to move in.”

Hasn’t this country already chosen? A great man was killed tonight, I think as my lips tremble and my eyes well up with hot tears. I don’t feel like a mother or a wife or even a sister right now. I feel like a child clinging to another child trying to figure out what’s gonna happen now that the one person who was allowed to care isn’t allowed to care anymore.

“For those of you who are Black – considering the evidence evidently is that there were White people who were responsible – you can be filled with bitterness and with hatred and a desire for revenge.”

Sounds of people yelling and crying echoes around the neighborhood. I fear it's only gonna get worse. I only hope that Thomas doesn’t get any ideas about running out there to help or hurt. He may not have agreed with the Reverend’s methods, but I could see it on his face that he was feeling it, too, plus all the anger that rushes out from inside of him whenever the position of Black people in this country comes up.

“We can move in that direction as a country. . .”

Easy for him to say. He’ll wake up tomorrow and still be a White man. We’ll wake up tomorrow and be Black people without a leader. We’ll wake up not knowing what tomorrow is gonna bring. If the Reverend Martin Luther King was killed, what’s gonna happen to us if we speak out? I can’t tell where this country is headed, and neither can Mr. Kennedy. But I have a feeling it’s nowhere good. Nowhere good at all if a man like that can be taken from us so very, very soon.


by Victoria Lucas

Mel and I grieve that Martin Luther King, Jr. has been taken from us. The turmoil of the day only underscored the tragic events.

It’s not like NYC where mimeographed newsletters were hurried out to the streets with the hour’s news—it takes time for the Berkeley Barb or other newspapers to be ready to distribute. What a difference a Gestetner makes.

Thus, it’s quite possible to drive into something unexpected, as we did on the day of the assassination. People glared at us, yelled at us, even threw things until we stopped and asked someone what was going on. It seems we were supposed to have known to place a black ribbon on our radio antenna or someplace else on our car, as a memorial to Dr. King. We had no idea. We hurriedly found a ribbon and attached it.


Berkeley during the Free Speech Movement a few years ago.

The lack of timely information and the increasing violence here are driving us out. Not only are the police getting more violent, but the Panthers are violent, the protests are getting violent; I cannot pass UC Berkeley's Sather Gate without seeing and hearing a male speaker getting purple in the face about “the pigs” (which now includes both the police and the UC Berkeley administration). What’s more, we're finding we cannot drive or walk around Berkeley at all and feel safe.

And so, we shall soon be leaving tumultuous Berkeley for points north. Our family member is staying, so we will be back to check on him and see friends. But living here has become too scary.

Maybe everywhere has gotten a little more scary.


by Joe Reid

Dr. King was loved by many for what he did with his life.  I thought I loved Dr. King for what he did, but I think that I really must not have.  For the thing I called love was ineffective and unhelpful.  It was empty in that it let another carry a burden alone, without me stepping forward to help.  While this man was walking around doing for others; walking around with a bullseye painted on his back, I only looked out for myself and mine.  It was good that Dr. King was doing the work of leading protests.  Organizing folks.  Giving speeches to inspire others.  Writing books so that others might understand our struggles.  All that I did was say that I loved his work, but I did nothing to help.  I worked and took care of my family and had the nerve to call another man brother when I didn’t lift a finger to try to make that man’s life better.

Dr. King was clearly not like me.  When he called you sister, it was because he cared about what happened to you.  If he called you brother, it was because he saw you as family.  He was able to see another man’s struggles as his own and was willing to use what talents he was given to do something about it.  When I see another man’s struggles, I see it as that man’s struggles.  How does that make me any different than most white folks?  People that might not hate me; might not call me a nigger, but who don’t see themselves in me.  They don’t see my struggles as their own.  Dr. Martin Luther King Jr was not that the kind of man that I have found myself to be.  He clearly possessed something that I lack.


Dr. King, flanked (from left) Hosea Williams, the Rev. Jesse Jackson, and the Rev. Ralph Abernathy on the Lorraine Motel balcony in Memphis on April 3.  Photo by Charles Kelly.

I think that my problem is that I don’t love God.  How could I say that I love God, if I don’t love those who God loves?  Like how if you love your friend, you will help your friend's family because of that love.  That I am not willing to step away from my own life to take up the cause of another shows me how fruitless my love is.  It shows that I don’t love my neighbor, I don’t love my coworker, I don’t love my family, I don’t even love myself.  If another man is fighting a battle for me that I won’t fight for myself, then I must not love myself.  I really don’t love myself, if I haven’t walked with the man.  My inaction proves the point that I must not love God.

Dr. King was not only fighting for negroes in this country, but also for poor folk of all stripes.  This man truly loved others.  His actions showed that.  He loved his children.  His speeches showed that.  He loved his brother.  His hands demonstrated that.  Lastly, it is now obvious to me that Dr. King really and truly loved God.  His life was a testament to that.

So, if I am going to claim to love God, as this man clearly did, I need to stop seeing people as separate from myself; realizing the truth that if anyone is being denied participation, representation, opportunity, or even their very life, I am being denied those things as well.  It was very unloving of me to let others fight on my behalf without me.  It’s time for me to start loving God and those who He loves.  Dr. King, thank you for your example of how to love.  You will be missed, but you will never be forgotten.


by Tom Purdom

I was doing the dishes and listening to our local all-news station, KYW, when the news came over the radio.  The first thing that leaped into my mind was Carl Sandburg’s poem Upstream:

The strong men keep coming on.
They go down, shot, hanged, sick, broken.
They live on, fighting, singing, lucky as plungers,
The strong mothers pulling them on,
The strong mothers pulling them from a dark sea, a
great prairie, a long mountain.
Call Hallelujah, call Amen,
The strong men keep coming on.




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[April 4, 1968] Time and time again (Star Trek: "Assignment: Earth")

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by Amber Dubin

Time travel is a concept which every science fiction show must one day address. Yet, unlike the plausibly possible science of navigating space-travel, successfully representing time-travel comes with much greater risk, not only of straining credulity, but of destroying continuity: tearing a time-line—or in this case a plot line—to ribbons. "Assignment: Earth", the last episode of Star Trek's second season does a better job of avoiding the pitfalls of "Tomorrow is Yesterday" and "The City on the Edge of Forever," though it is not without its foibles.

We begin with the announcement that the crew has used the technique they discovered by accident in "Tomorrow is Yesterday" to travel to the past, on purpose this time, to the year 1968 in a cultural observation mission. This mission starts going off the rails pretty much immediately as the ship starts to shake violently. Attention is drawn to the transporter room, where it is found that the transporter pad is intercepting a transporter beam of unknown origin.

Upon the pad materializes Robert Lansing as Gary Seven, a mysterious, cat-carrying, super secret agent sent from a distant "advanced civilization" in order to save planet earth. Captain Kirk is immediately suspicious of the man and the tiny silver-collared black cat, and he orders him to surrender himself for observation while they verify his lustrous claims. Seven briefly appears to comply, despite his insistence that he must be allowed to continue to beam down to the planet, or face the annihilation of earth and life as they know it. He suddenly changes his mind and he and the cat, who he refers to as Isis, launch into an attack where he puts down an entire room full of officers and repels even Spock’s Vulcan nerve pinch before being subdued by the stun of Kirk's phaser.

It then follows that Gary Seven possesses powers to back up his claim as earth's clandestine savior. He easily manages to free himself from the brig using a wand that both deactivates force fields and causes officers he targets to fall into very pleasant-looking slumbers.


It beats being judo chopped!

As he's forging a path to his escape as easily as a knife through butter, the senior officers obliviously discuss the plausibility of his claims and the risks to allowing him to carry out his mission. The dilemma, of course, is the paradox faced by all time travelers: not knowing if one's interference will derail or cause the events meant to occur in history as they know it. On the one hand, Seven could be telling the truth and by detaining him they could be dooming humanity to destruction in 1968. On the other hand, coming back to this moment could be a fated occurrence that prevented a lying, intergalactic criminal alien from destroying the earth in the same way. The opinion of the crew seems split down the middle and the discussion goes nowhere. It's worth noting that Isis is completely underestimated throughout, getting cuddled by Spock and allowed to freely roam the ship, despite it being very obvious to this viewer that she is no ordinary feline.


"A most curious creature, Captain. Its trilling seems to have a tranquilizing effect on the human nervous system. Fortunately, of course, I am immune to its effect."

While the crew is distracted, Gary Seven and Isis manage to escape to beam down to their original destination. The episode then shifts from a typical Star Trek episode to a cross between Mission: Impossible, Get Smart! and Mannix, complete with secret agent gadgets, a wise-cracking super computer and a lovely human secretary named Roberta, who's just as charismatic and whip-smart as she is goofy and unique.


At home in the Seven cave.

The supervisory secret agent checks in to his mission to discover that it's all gone wrong and Roberta is there because the agents who hired her and were supposed to be completing the mission were senselessly killed in an automobile accident before they could bring their plans to fruition.


Gary Seven has Roberta Lincoln give dictation to her typewriter.

Thus ensues a cat-and-mouse game between Seven and Isis (who are trying to complete their mission to sabotage a rocket carrying an orbital nuclear bomb) and Kirk and Spock (who are pursuing trepidatiously, not entirely sure whether they should be helping or thwarting the oddly capable team). Roberta's meddling aids both teams in their conflicting missions, culminating in a nail-biting scene where Kirk makes the last minute decision to trust Seven in the end, and the agent swiftly causes a nuclear warhead to detonate harmlessly in mid-air, thus scaring the world out of participating in a fatal arms race.


A genuinely gripping face-off.

The Enterprise's crew then confirms in their history banks that the time-line has been restored and their interference was actually predicted by the details of the event as recorded in history. This episode does not suffer from a rushed nonsensical 'it was all a dream' ending like "Tomorrow is Yesterday," nor did it have the dissatisfying 'they were never there' conclusion of "The City on the Edge of Forever." Instead, this explanation reflects my favorite and most plausible time travel theory: that contamination is impossible because all actions successfully completed by time travellers were fated to occur because they have always occurred and will always occur exactly as they did.

Overall, I'd say this episode passes muster. I only had two personal arguments with it: First, it seemed like Nimoy was the only actor on set who knew how to hold a cat. The cat seemed to begrudgingly tolerate Lansing but it was only purring in Nimoy's arms (I agree, cat). Second, the fact that they chose 1968 as the "most volatile in earth's history" was clearly an arbitrary decision to make a more comfortable crossover with Lansing's backdoor pilot set in modern times.

I'd say in the Star Trek time-line, the Eugenics Wars/WW3 seem like a much more volatile time in earth's history, and I'd argue that they could gain much more insights from directly observing WW1 or WW2. I didn’t like how the author just left a naked bias towards the particular year chosen which I felt could be easily covered up using an easily fictionizable event.

4 stars for the above reasons, and also because I thought downgrading the sentient cat to a humanoid alien woman at the end was disappointing and unnecessary.


Teri Garr is disappointed, too.

Inhumanly Perfect or Perfectly Human?


By Mx. Blue Cathey-Thiele

This episode ties up neatly and happily – on the surface. How much of what we saw is as it seems, though? Gary Seven didn't cause a world catastrophe, and indeed, may have averted one! But the question of who and what he is remains. He claims to be a human, an agent from a planet that is still unknown in the time of the Enterprise. The Kelvans in "By Any Other Name" also scanned as 'perfectly human' and were decidedly not. He's also immune to the Vulcan neck pinch…

And what of Isis? Is this a cat who can turn into a humanoid being? A woman who can turn into a cat? Or a completely separate alien species altogether? Are they partners, or is there a command structure? Perhaps Isis is Gary's handler.

Beyond this, if Gary was part of the same program as his two lost agents, he would be (according to his own description) a descendant of humans taken from Earth six thousand years ago, all raised and trained to operate on a planet that is no longer a home to them. And as Gary told Isis, they don't intend to stay long. Whether he means in the year 1968 or on Earth, the here and now is something he finds almost unlivable. After generations of living away from Earth, would any agent feel at home there? One wonders if he really does have "lots of interesting adventures in store."

A nice bit: while waiting with Spock down in mission control, Kirk’s supplemental log says he has never felt so helpless. Unlike when he followed McCoy to the 30s, he isn't here to correct a problem and set the path of history to right. As heartbreaking as it was to follow through when told "Edith Keeler must die," he was reacting and preventing a worse outcome. A known quantity, as far as he was aware. Unlike then, he doesn't know what, if any, action is necessary – and in that moment there isn't anything in his power that he can do to change things. All that knowledge, technology, and will… and he is left to watch.


Our heroes, helpless.

The whole reason the Enterprise traveled back in time was to observe a time period so tumultuous that either lack of records or sheer incredulity has the crew wondering just how we make it through. Roberta, however, doesn't have the security of hindsight, saying, "We wonder if we're gonna be alive when we're thirty." It's a bleak thought. Kirk may be reliving his history books, but Roberta is there as they are being written. She's frightened and caught off-guard by the strange people and happenings around her, but even so, she adapts. It may hinder Kirk, Spock, and Gary, but over the course of the episode she tries at least three times to get outside help. When she recognizes that Gary has to be lying and is interfering with dangerous things, she tries to talk him out of it, and puts herself in harm's way to physically prevent him from taking action. If Gary is in a spy thriller, Kirk and Spock in an historical drama, then up until nearly the end, Roberta is cast in a horror. Despite this, she manages to stay a cheery person. Surrounded by both normal—as normal as the current world can be—challenges and time travelers, she does her best. She's out of her depth but she still tries.


Roberta takes control of the situation.

Ultimately, the crew of the Enterprise is left with only their original mission to fulfill: they watch. This isn't their time, and they have neither the responsibility nor the means to change it. On the bridge, Lt. Uhura monitors the channels and hears military powers across the globe preparing to respond. Kirk and Spock are equally powerless in the control room as they are in front of Gary Seven's computer. All they can do is listen to Roberta, and step back to allow Gary to finish what he started. The only way out is through.

There was little action from my favorite crew, but within the context of the story, that fit. Gary, Roberta, and Isis were interesting new characters and I would enjoy seeing them again.

3 stars

Colonel Savage


by Lorelei Marcus

I have seen Robert Lansing star in many other shows, from Twelve O' Clock High to the shortlived The Man Who Never Was and even The 4D Man. I have always been charmed by his grave and understated performances. “Assignment: Earth” was no exception; it was delightful to see Lansing as a mild-mannered, cat-petting spy from outer space. My only grievance with the character is that he must live and die within a single Star Trek episode.


Gary Seven, Secret Agent (hey, better than Amos Burke!)

To a degree, the Star Trek setting is a strength. Gary 7 expands the Star Trek universe further beyond the Enterprise, introducing an alien world and beings that even Kirk and Spock can’t find. There is also fun in seeing different SF worlds collide. Two years ago I received audio tapes from England and reports of the new Doctor Who, an ongoing SF show on TV across The Pond. Gary 7 reminds me strongly of the Doctor, with his space-traveling machine and his plucky young human companion. (There are notable differences, of course, like his cat and stun-gun pen gadget, which feels more out of a spy flick than SF). Seeing our space-faring heroes encountering a being reminiscent of the Doctor and witnessing the adventures that ensued was quite amusing. (And sounds like a story I might have to write for the next issue of The Tricorder!)

The tragedy is not just that we only get to see Gary 7 once, but the very limitation of his screen time means his actor doesn't get quite enough time to breathe. Lansing thrives in a starring role where he can mold the show around him to his mood and level. His portrayal suffered for having to split the spotlight with the regular Trek heroes, leaving only glimpses of the potential of what he and the character could have been in their own show. I mourn the loss of what could have been, but for giving me anything at all, I give the episode five stars.

That's a wrap!


by Gideon Marcus

This was the first episode we got to see secure in the knowledge that there will be another season of our favorite science fiction show.  I will say this for it—it's different!  Sure, we've seen the Enterprise go to past Earth before, and we've seen lots of period pieces (this episode must have been particularly cheap), but the intersection of two powerful races, and the focus for much of the episode on an independent guest star, made for a very unusual experience.

I'm not sure how I feel about it.  In some ways, it dragged down the pace of the episode, reducing Kirk and co. into a bunch of bystanders.  On the other hand, that's how life is sometimes—you're not always the star.  In the end, I'd say this was a successful experiment, but one not likely to be repeated…unless Trek turns into a true anthology show, which I would not necessarily be opposed to.

Some things the show did extremely well.  The integration of the very recent Apollo 4 launch was particularly good.  I also appreciated the incorporation of Fractional Orbital Bombardment System (FOBS) technology.  This is absolutely accurate, though I think only the Soviets actually are testing such a system.  Several of their "Kosmos" tests have actually been launches of nukes on rockets that sail into space and then deorbit before completing a first orbit, thus allowing them to land anywhere.  It's a terrifying development, and one I hope will be banned if the superpowers update last year's Outer Space Treaty.


We'd probably use a Titan, not a Saturn, but this is a divergent history.

As for how "Assignment: Earth" serves as an ending to Season 2, well, it's kind of an odd duck.  It doesn't hit any of the main subjects we've seen thus far—no Klingons or Romulans, no Vulcan notables; just a joyride through time.  I feel that the show might have been better served ending on a more Trek-ish episode, something like Mirror, Mirror or Journey to Babel.  Instead, we got the 22nd Century's equivalent of Wild, Wild West.

Well, I guess it fits in alright.  After all, like the season as a whole, there were high points, low points, but overall, we enjoyed the experience.  Moreover, we got to see Robert Lansing, which is appropriate given that Trek cribbed the iconic "Enterprise theme" from Lansing's show, Twelve O' Clock High.

3.5 stars.

Live long and prosper, and we're looking forward to resuming Trek coverage in September!




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[April 2, 1968] Asking the big questions (May 1968 IF)

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by David Levinson

A spring thaw?

Change appears to be coming to Czechoslovakia. Faced with growing dissatisfaction last year, First Secretary of the Czechoslovakian Communist Party Antonín Novatný invited Leonid Brezhnev to visit Prague last December in the hope of shoring up his position. Instead, Brezhnev was shocked by Novatný’s unpopularity and pushed him to resign as Party Secretary (he remained President).

Alexander Dubček was elected as the new First Secretary on January 5th and soon began on a course of reforms. On February 22nd, in the presence of Brezhnev, Dubček announced that steps would be taken to bring about “the widest possible democratization of the entire socio-political system.” A few days later, the Party adopted the first draft of an action program which allows greater freedom of speech (much of the resistance to Novatný came from the Writer’s Union) and more autonomy for Slovakia (the Czech Novatný had tried to curb Slovakian culture and language; Dubček is Slovakian). February ended with the release of the first uncensored magazine by the Writer’s Union.

Alexander Dubček addresses the nation after taking office.

On March 4th, the Party Presidium voted to dismantle press censorship, and by the end of the week the papers were calling for Novatný to step down as President. On the 14th, the Party voted to politically rehabilitate party members who had been purged in the 1950s. By the 22nd, the pressure was too much for Novatný and he reluctantly resigned as President. He will be replaced by Ludvík Svoboda, who had been purged, but rehabilitated at the request of Khrushchev.

The reaction in the East Bloc has been as might be expected. A Warsaw Pact meeting was hastily called for the 23rd in Dresden. The Poles, in particular, seemed unhappy with Dubček’s reforms. They may be nervous due to the student protests in Warsaw and elsewhere in the country. The word “counterrevolution” was mentioned and the specter of Hungary was raised. Dubček seems to have calmed fears for now.

Can Dubček keep the Soviets at arm’s length and bring about his reforms? Tito managed it, but Yugoslavia isn’t in the Warsaw Pact and doesn’t have a border with the Soviet Union. Only time will tell.

Seeking answers

The stories in this month’s IF grapple with deep questions. Some are big, such as expedience versus morality or the meaning of bravery and sacrifice; others are more personal. And Poul Anderson calls everything we think about the future into question.

Supposedly for Dismal Light, which doesn’t even have two male characters. Generic art by Pederson

Limiting Factor, by Poul Anderson

In a guest editorial, Anderson starts off looking at the limits of extrapolation as a tool for science fiction and winds up warning us about the limits of growth. Not population growth, as you might expect, but rather technological growth. A conservative estimate says that industry in North America alone will raise the average temperature of the Earth by 3°C. He warns, “You needn’t extrapolate far before you see the polar icecaps melting and the continental shores flooded. A little farther, and the entire planet swelters… A little farther, and life is threatened.”

Three stars.

Where the Subbs Go, by C. C. MacApp

When humanity discovered a faster-than-light drive, the Eje appeared with the Beam, allowing even faster travel across the galaxy, and established an outpost on Pluto. They also offer medical care for those injured in space. Those injured seriously enough are given substitute bodies, all identical with tremendous healing ability. These people are known as Subbs and are generally looked down on. Ralse Bukanan is one of the richest men in the galaxy; unknown to all but his closest business partners, he is also a Subb.

When Ralse’s son is kidnapped, he has to push his company to the brink of collapse and take some huge risks to rescue the young man. Add in some stolen Eje weapons, and the stakes get even higher.

Ralse questions one of the last people to see his son. Art by Jeff Jones

This is pretty good. MacApp can write good adventure when puts his mind to it, and he handles the more philosophical parts with equal skill. What we learn about the motives of the Eje turns everything upside-down and forces Ralse to change a lot of his priorities. The story is a little long, though. It’s right on the line between three and four stars, but probably good enough to go high.

A low four stars.

New Currents in Fandom, by Lin Carter

Our Man in Fandom takes a look at some new trends among fans. He starts off with the giving of fan awards at the latest Worldcon. He does try slightly to defend calling the awards Pongs, but I do share his hope that fan awards will continue to be given. After a quick look at some adjacent fandoms—which he’s covered before—Carter tells about an effort to print a portfolio of the late Hannes Bok’s work. Finally, he mentions a group of medieval reenactors known as The Society for Contemporary Anachronisms (sic; it’s Creative Anachronism). They’ll be holding a tournament at the Worldcon in Oakland on the afternoon of Labor Day.

Three stars.

Dismal Light, by Roger Zelazny

At the behest of Earth, Francis Sandow turned a bare hunk of rock orbiting Betelgeuse into the barely livable world Dismal, which Earth turned into a prison. The unnamed narrator stuck around after his sentence was up to keep working on a project to figure out the secret of a strain of extremely fast-growing rice. When an evacuation is announced because Betelgeuse is about to go nova, he drags his feet, saying he hopes to answer the question plaguing him. It may be more personal than rice.

One of the dangers faced by the narrator. Art by Brock

Zelazny gives us another of his smart-mouthed narrators. It’s starting to become a key feature of his work that he ought to use a little less frequently. The story is told with all the usual skill we expect from this author, but it fell a little short for me. That may be because the deeply personal question the narrator is struggling with didn’t resonate with me.

A very high three stars, but others may well give it a fourth.

Past Touch-the-Sky Mountain, by Barry Alan Weissman

Sommerfield, John is a merchant in the Chinese empire. On his way from his home base on the west coast of the New World (discovered by Marco Polo) to the British territory of Standish, his trip is interrupted by a police officer who has never heard of such nonsense.

Weissman is this month’s first-time author. Although forgettable, the story is well-written and has enough of a twist at the end to make it enjoyable.

Three stars.

Cenotaph, by D. M. Melton

As the shuttle bringing passengers down to Mora II swings past the Cenotaph Satellite, Steve Mendes reflects on the events that took the lives of the three people memorialized there, saving the lives of a full ship of colonists. Deservedly or not, he carries a lot of guilt.

Passing the Cenotaph when possible is tradition. Art by Eddie Jones

Melton’s output thus far has been a consistent low three stars. He’s taken a big step forward here. The events that took the lives of some of the forward team may not be terribly believable, but the characterization and internal monologue of the narrator are very well done.

A very low four stars.

The Creatures of Man, by Verge Foray

Hard-shelled, metal-spitting creatures have come to the world. After discussing things with a spider, a butterfly decides it is time to summon Man.

The butterfly and spider discuss the new creatures. Art by Wehrle

There’s a dreamlike quality to the narrative that, I suppose, reflects the different thought processes of the insect characters. However, the story was painfully obvious, too long, and the butterfly’s knowing of the “now-moment” didn’t really make any sense to me.

A low three stars, others may like this better.

The Man in the Maze (Part 2 of 2), by Robert Silverberg

Richard Muller was one of Earth’s top diplomats when he was sent to make contact with the first aliens humanity had discovered. On his return, he discovered that no one could stand to be around him for more than a few minutes, because the emotions of his deep subconscious radiate from him. In disgust, he retreated to the desolate planet Lemnos and the heart of a million-year-old city surrounded by deadly traps. Now his services are needed again. Charles Boardman, the man who sent Muller on the mission that gave him his affliction, and Ned Rawlins, the son of Muller’s late best friend, have come to recruit him.

Ned gradually gains Muller’s trust, feeding him the lies carefully constructed by Boardman. Eventually, he is overcome with guilt at the deception and reveals all to Muller. This was definitely not in Boardman’s plans. Is it possible to convince Muller to undertake this vital mission? If he goes, will he be healed? Can he rejoin humanity?

Ned may have gone too far to gain Muller’s trust. Art by Gaughan

Silverberg wraps up his retelling of Philoctetes strongly, though not as strongly as I had hoped. The final chapter, which focuses on Ned, is very, very good; it’s just that getting there wasn’t entirely satisfying. The whole thing is still excellent, and I’ll be putting it on my shelves when the novel comes out.

A high four stars for this segment and a very high four for the novel as a whole.

Summing up

At the beginning of the year, editor Fred Pohl promised a number of new features would be coming. So far, all we’ve seen is the introduction of the SF Calendar. Now for the first time since the October 1965 issue brought us the end of Skylark DuQuesne and the beginning of Retief’s War, the end of one serial hasn’t shared the issue with the start of a new. I’m not sure I’d call that a positive innovation, but I suppose Galaxy going monthly means Fred now has two vehicles for serials.

In any case, this is another strong issue for IF. Fred’s probably worked through the dross he’d already bought before the demise of Worlds of Tomorrow and now doesn’t need to buy filler. I hope having more pages to fill every month with 50% more Galaxy doesn’t change that.

Oh, dear. Are we going back to The Reefs of Space? Well, new Delany and Chandler is good.




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[March 31st, 1968] Boredom From The Deep (Doctor Who: Fury From The Deep [Part One])

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By Jessica Holmes

There’s nothing…wrong with this latest serial of Doctor Who, per se. The acting’s pretty standard, nothing terribly stupid or offensive has happened, but it’s committed just about the worst sin a piece of media can do. It’s DULL.

But I’ll try to wring a moderately diverting review out of it anyway.

Let’s take a look at Doctor Who: Fury From The Deep, a serial by Victor Pemberton.

EPISODE ONE

The TARDIS arrives (yet again) in England, and it’s not long before the crew find themselves in the custody of the staff of a gas refinery. The boss around here is a man called Robson (Victor Maddern), and his blood pressure is constantly so high I think his head might actually explode.

His second in command, a nice bloke called Frank Harris (Roy Spencer), is apologetic for Robson’s terseness. The refinery controls a number of offshore natural gas rigs, and they’ve just lost contact with one of them. What’s more, there’s a funny noise coming from inside the gas pipe, but Robson won’t let them turn off the gas flow to check inside.

The base briefly regains contact with the rig, who assure them that all is well, but there’s something about their reassurances that doesn’t feel right.

Harris tries to raise his concerns about the pipeline to Robson, but finds that his research files seem to have gone walkabout. Thinking that he left them at home, he asks his wife, Maggie (June Murphy), to check in his office. She finds a bit more than she bargained for. The folder is there all right, but so is a stash of weed.

Seaweed, that is.

The seaweed pricks her hand, so she throws it away. However, there is more to this seaweed than it seems at first glance. It’s starting to glow, and she’s starting to feel quite peculiar…

Meanwhile, Robson throws the travellers into a prison cell, from which they promptly escape. Jamie exits through a ventilation grille with some difficulty, and Victoria takes the more pragmatic option of picking the lock with her hairpin.

Of course, traditionally the Scots DON'T wear anything under the kilt. Make of that what you will.I see London, I see France…

And guess which of them the Doctor is reluctant to take with him as he goes to the impeller room (where they pump the gas) to investigate the pipe problem?

I’m just saying, Victoria would be perfectly capable of looking at pipes. She’s from the industrial revolution. They were obsessed with gas and pipes and the like. Just look at the hats everyone was wearing.

Robson’s general bullishness hasn’t gone unnoticed, earning him a bit of a telling off from an overseer, the Dutch Van Lutyens (John Abineri). From his perspective, the problem with the gas is rather Robson-shaped.

Having been left behind while the boys go and look at some tubes, Victoria ends up in the right place at the right time to spot a shady figure opening some gas canisters in a storage room. Unfortunately for her, she then gets locked inside, and seafoam begins to pour in through the vent.

So now not only was she excluded from the investigation of the impeller room, she has been relegated to damsel in distress.

Again.

EPISODE TWO

Luckily for Victoria, the men come to her rescue in the nick of time, finding the room flooded with poisonous gas. She babbles something about seeing a creature in the foam, but there’s no sign of it now.

The other resident damsel, Maggie Harris, takes a turn for the worse, so her husband puts her to bed and goes to find her a doctor. I will say they are actually very sweet together, it’s clear they adore one another.

While he’s gone, a pair of maintenance workers arrive at the house, Mr Oak and Mr Quill (John Gill and Bill Burridge), who remind me of Abbott and Costello but rather less funny. Maggie allows them inside, not noticing their uncanny behaviour or the seaweed growing from their skin.

Other than the seaweed, they’re perfectly normal looking human beings. And that’s why it is quite impressive to me that they are perhaps the most viscerally unnerving characters ever to appear in Doctor Who.

Prosthetics and death rays are all well and good, but this is something else. With their mouths open wider than seems physically possible, eyes unblinking and bulging, the pair are absolutely grotesque as they begin to emit noxious gas, choking her into unconsciousness. It made my skin crawl. They’re straddling the line between human and inhuman, and there’s something about that that is scarier than any alien monster.

Even if I didn’t care much for the rest of the story, this one scene is excellent.

Harris arrives back with the Doctor and company in tow, discovering Maggie passed out on the floor and the house swimming in gas. There is no sign of the maintenance workers. They let the gas out through the window, and Harris explains to the Doctor about the seaweed incident. The Doctor theorises that whoever put the seaweed in the file meant for Harris to touch it and suffer the ill effects. And it looks like they’ve tried again, as Victoria finds some seaweed lying in the middle of the floor. Warning everyone not to touch it, the Doctor collects it for further testing.

Meanwhile, Robson continues to be stubborn about refusing to stop the gas flow, to the ever increasing frustration of Van Lutyens.

Taking matters into his own hands, Van Lutyens comes up with his own theory of where the blockage in the pipes must be, and asks the Chief Engineer (Hubert Rees) to go with him to sort it. However, though Robson is not an easy bloke to like, he is regarded as being genuinely good at his job, and the Chief Engineer is reluctant to take any action without getting Robson’s approval.

So that’s what they go to get, and Robson continues to be frustratingly stubborn, even though by this point the impeller has broken down and they’ve lost contact with another rig. And yet, the thudding from inside the pipes seems to be getting louder…

EPISODE THREE

Before departing the Harris’ house, the Doctor tells Harris that he should get his wife to the medical centre for supervision. She’ll probably be all right, but just in case.

The Doctor runs various tests on the seaweed, finding that it appears to feed on natural gas and excrete a toxic gas. And it’s very much alive. Well, yes. It’s a living organism. What you mean is that it is conscious and also mobile.

They find an illustration in an old book of a sea monster that bears a strong resemblance to the creature Victoria saw in the vent. Hoping to find out more, they venture back to the Harris’ quarters, breaking in when it appears that there is nobody home. To their shock, they find the house full to the brim of seafoam and tendrils, from which they have a difficult escape through the skylight.

Harris reports back to Robson, who has remembered that the Doctor and company are meant to be prisoners, and isn’t very happy that Harris has let them out of his sight. The impeller starts up again and almost immediately breaks down, putting an end to their argument, and sparking a bit of a tantrum from Robson. Increasingly concerned about Robson’s erratic behaviour, Van Lutyens urges Harris to take over.

They decide to confront Robson together, and he does not take it well. He has a right little strop and storms off to his room, where Mr Oak locks him inside. The room starts to flood with gas, and Robson bursts out just as Harris comes to check on him, yelling something about a creature as he runs off. Harris spots a seaweed-ish creature in the vent, but it’s gone by the time he tries to show Van Lutyens.

The Doctor reports his findings about the seaweed to Harris, who is very concerned to think that his wife might have been exposed to some unknown parasitic organism. He’s even more disturbed when he learns that despite having arranged for a medic to bring his wife to the medical centre, nobody has come to collect her yet. She’s still at home. The home which is now completely consumed in seafoam.

So where is Maggie?

She’s gone to the seaside, as one does when one feels under the weather. And who should be with her but Robson? Something has come over them both, and they don’t seem to be in their right minds. After all, wouldn’t you be at least a little concerned if you saw a woman walk into the sea?

Final Thoughts

So, we’re halfway through Fury From The Deep, and so far my reaction is a resounding ‘eh’. Like I said, there’s not really anything wrong with it. I like the characters well enough, they’re decent, I’m even picking up a little bit of a Lovecraft influence which is usually fun. And yet it’s just not doing anything for me. Why?

Perhaps ‘seaweed’ just doesn’t really work as a villain. Maybe it’s that the slowly building plot of something being wrong with the gas pipeline is just TOO slow to build. Perhaps it is that the conflict between Robson and Van Lutyens is just going around in circles until the third episode, where the status quo finally changes.

There’s not that much to look at thematically. The theme of ‘the leader is too arrogant for his own good and will doom everyone else because of that’ turns up in half the stories in Doctor Who, so there’s not much new territory being explored in that regard. We might be heading towards some environmental message, but no hint of it has popped up so far. That’s just speculation on my part. Ultimately, I just don’t find the story very interesting.

Let’s hope that things start to pick up from here.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[March 28, 1968] Design for effect (April 1968 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

There are all kinds of science fiction stories.  Some explore the human condition, prioritizing people and how they might be affected by emerging technologies.  Others are space or planetary adventures, utilizing an exotic locale as backdrop for classic derring-do.

Analog (formerly Astounding) has always emphasized technological pieces.  They are stories of gadgets, of scientific implementations, not people.  Even better is when the story underscores the libertarian, rather reactionary politics of one editor John W. Campbell Jr.

Sometimes, a skilled writer can get a story into Campbell's mag without that kind of tale.  In this issue, virtually none of them did…

The issue at hand


by Kelly Freas

Secret Weapon, by Joseph P. Martino

The interstellar war against the Arcani is going badly.  Now that the Terrans have doubled their Patrol Corvette fleet, suddenly their losses have quadrupled.  Somehow, the alien enemy is tracking down their gravitational signatures as they zoom through their patrol lanes at four times the speed of light–and even when the human crews manage to intercept the enemy warships, somehow they elude destruction.

Two ships are dispatched to find the answer to this crisis, equipped with a new nucleonic clock that allows the ships to communicate even at superluminary speeds.  Now they can cover each other in case of attack.  When attack inevitably comes, they discover the secret to the enemy's success.

Joe Martino probably enjoyed writing this novella, and John Campbell obviously enjoyed reading this novella, so I suppose the story must be called some kind of success.  However, if you don't enjoy things that read like the centerfold to a particularly dry issue of Popular Gravitics, I suggest you give this one a skip.  This probably could have been a great novel, with time devoted to, you know, characters and prose, as opposed to a thinly dressed up engineering problem whose solution is implied to be beyond the comprehension of the alien foe.

Two stars.

Handyman, by Jack Wodhams


by Leo Summers

A married couple, trapped on a muddy world with virtually no trappings of civilization, try to make even the most basic rudiments of technology to ease their plight.  Eventually, they figure out how to make ceramics, and when a rescue party finally appears, they are now happy to stay on their private world and even to start an export trade of their new kind of china.  Chalk up a win for enforced entrepreneurialism!

I kept waiting for Wodhams to explain how the planet-wrecked pair figured out how to make their ceramic, given that all the ways that didn't work were so lovingly detailed.

Still, the story is at least readable. A low three stars.

Phantasmaplasmagoria, by Herbert Jacob Bernstein


by Kelly Freas

According to the scientists, power from nuclear fusion, harnessing the union of hydrogen atoms to produce boundless electricity, is just twenty years away.  This story details the meandering road to the technology's serendipitous development.

It's a silly piece, and I'm not sure who thought it a good idea to put a fourth of the story in endnotes that one has to constantly refer to.  They aren't worth the pay-off.

Two stars.

Is Everybody Happy?, by Christopher Anvil


by Leo Summers

A hay fever drug has the unfortunate side effect of making everyone extra-friendly.  Society breaks down as folks would rather kibbitz than work.

It says something about Analog and its editor's beliefs that too much friendliness will obviously lead to economic ruin, as opposed to increased efficiency through greater cooperation. Call me crazy, but I work better when I like my co-workers.

Anyway, this is another "funny" piece by Anvil for Campbell, and it's as good as you'd expect it to be.

Two stars.

Incorrigible, by John T. Phillifent


by Leo Summers

A naval officer is up for treason, having facilitated the transfer of technical knowledge to the Drekk, potentially Earth's most dangerous foe.  The implacable lizards, inhabitant of a Venus-type planet (nicknamed "Wet" for its torrid, humid conditions) are incredibly quick studies, and interstellar spaceflight is only a few developments away.

But, the officer notes, at the end of a very long dialogue with his attorney (the sole point of which is to build to the punchline conclusion) the information leak was ultimately to humanity's benefit.  For it involves the ability to teleport water, which the Drekk will use to colonize the nearby planet, "Dry".  And once enough mass is teleported from Wet, the core will explode, destroying the evil aliens.

Well.

I can't imagine this is particularly sound science, this notion that Venus-type planets are at a critical point such that the lost of a few million tons of water can destabilize them, especially coming from a fellow who still characterizes Venus as "wet" five years after Mariner 2.  That notwithstanding, I might have been more tolerant, given the decent writing in this piece, if the author (under his pseudonym) had not used the exact same gimmick to end his recent novel, Alien Sea!

Two stars.

The Horse Barbarians (Part 3 of 3), by Harry Harrison


by Kelly Freas

Jason dinAlt's adventures appear to have come to an end with this third Deathworld novel.  By the end of the story, the Pyrran city has been destroyed by the planet, the horse barbarians of Felicity have been defeated, and Meta and Jason have finally professed their love for one another.

How is Temuchin, highest chief of the Felicitan nomads defeated?  After Jason is found out for the outworlder he is, the barbarian tosses him into a deep pit to die.  Instead, Jason finds his way through a maze of caves, discovering a passage from the frozen steppes to the rich lowlands.  All other methods of toppling Temuchin having failed, Jason tells the warlord the secret of the caves so that the barbarians can finally conquer the whole continent.

Almost immediately, Temuchin realizes his victory is really defeat, for taking all the cities means the inevitable death of the nomad way of life.  The nomads collapse within weeks, and the Pyrrans set up shop.

There are a lot of problems with this book.  Temuchin is supposed to be this awful, violent savage for slaughtering foreign invaders, and for wanting to take out the lowlanders.  Does this justify the Pyrrans in killing and facilitating the killing of far more people than Temuchin ever could have managed on his own?

Beyond that, the historical "lesson" at the end of the story is specious.  Sure, the Chinese sinicized the Mongols, but not all of them, and not in a matter of weeks.  And as for the Goths and Huns (also cited), the former were invited to settle the Roman Empire rather than becoming Roman after conquering, while the Huns were simply defeated in fight after fight.

Thus, I find Jason's actions and motivations more ruthless and inhuman than Temuchin's; they are also out of keeping with the peacenik environmental message so beautifully expressed in Deathworld.

All that said, there's no question that Harrison is a terrific writer (he almost makes you accept the unrealistic extents to which Jason pushes his body).  I turned to this serial first each of the last three months, and I finished each installment in a sitting.  As a result, while I give this segment three stars, and even though I find the premise repugnant, I still am giving the novel as a whole three and a half stars.

Local Effect, by D. L. Hughes


by Leo Summers

An alien space drive discarded near Earth's moon has drastic effects on human scientific development.  It turns out that the speed of light is not a constant…except around Earth.  Thus, Einstein's theory of relativity only describes a local phenomenon, not the universe as a whole.  Alien anthropologists from a faraway star survey humanity and note this local aberration with interest.

This is an interesting premise, but Hughes, knowing his audience (a certain editor named Campbell), turns it into an anti-scientific-establishment polemic, noting that, if only humans were a little more broad minded, they might not have gotten stuck in their rut.  After all, how dare we assume that the rules that hold locally apply to the whole universe?

Except, of course, that is the very soul of the scientific method.  Moreover, observations this century make it clear that relativity does hold throughout the universe–as early as 1919, just four years after the publication of General Relativity, light was seen to have been deflected around the sun's gravity well, pursuant to theory.

This could have been a fascinating story of aliens assuming that all beings should follow an "obvious" course of scientific development, deluded by their own understanding of all the facts.  Instead, we get…this.

Two stars.

Doing the math

If it's a race to the bottom, Analog has won handily, scoring just 2.3 stars this month.  This accomplishment is all the more sad when one realizing that this is a better score than it got last month!

Luckily, the other magazines of the month were somewhat better, including New Worlds (2.8), New Writings 12 (3.1), Famous Science Fiction #4 (2.9), Famous Science Fiction #5 (2.5), Famous Science Fiction #6 (2.7), Fantasy and Science Fiction (2.7)
IF (3.1), and the best, Galaxy (3.3).

Women penned just 4% of the new fiction this month, and even with all the issues of Famous (lumped due to logistics into this one month), there was still only 2.5 to 3 issues' worth of superior stuff.

I guess we'll see if the Pohl mags continue to reign, or if all fortunes oscillate.  I think it's safe to say, though, that Analog could definitely use a loosening of its editorial prescriptions.  Hope springs eternal!




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[March 26, 1968] Scandal!  New Worlds, April 1968

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

Quick recap, then. You might remember that last time I said that I thought that New Worlds and its editor Mike Moorcock were pushing boundaries, although I did say that this was not new and actually has been going on for a while.

Well, it now seems that people who don’t normally take an interest in such things have suddenly become aware.

With the last issue, newsagents W. H. Smith and Sons, Britain’s biggest newspaper and magazine vendor, in collaboration with John Menzies, refused to distribute the magazine on the grounds of ‘obscenity and libel’. The national newspapers here have got hold of this story and talked of W. H. Smith’s ‘ban’.

It's not actually clear what in the issue is obscene and libellous – I'm thinking that it'll probably be the sex in Bug Jack Barron, although the mind-rape poem for me was particularly unpleasant. But I guess that it'll be Moorcock off to court to defend the magazine.

It is possible that such a raised awareness of interest might improve sales, if only for a little while. (Remember the fuss over 'Lady Chatterley's Lover'? ) “No publicity is bad publicity”, so the saying goes. But this does assume that buyers can get hold of the issues in the first place.

This may then affect the production of future issues. Obviously, I will let you know more as and when I hear it.

On to this month’s issue.

Cover by Stephen Dwoskin

Lead in by The Publishers

The “What-Used-to-be-Editorial” has lots of in-house stuff this month. As well as writing about the authors and artists in this month’s magazine (Butterworth, Disch, Koutroubousis), it also brings readers up to speed with what’s been going on – namely that in the last twelve months there’s been the loss of the publisher and the Arts Council grant. The magazine is surviving on £400 per month, but promises a bigger issue with colour next month. There’s new staff too, in the persons of James Sallis (mentioned last month) as fiction editor, Douglas Hill as associate editor, and Diane Lambert in charge of publicity. (Does this explain the lack of nakedness on the cover this month? Possibly. We’re almost back to those strangely obscure covers of the Carnell era!) Big plans, but let’s see what happens.

Dr. Gelabius by Hilary Bailey

The welcome return of Hilary as a fiction writer, whose duties of late have been more to do with editing New Worlds than writing stories.

Dr. Gelabius is some strange Frankenstein-ian story of a scientist disposing of a set of foetuses before being shot and killed by an irate mother. Comments about evil scientists, abortion and the death of Science no doubt go here. It’s short, and wants to shock.

Unfortunately, its brevity makes it feel as if it is part of a story rather than a self-contained narrative. I don’t think that it is Hilary’s best. The fact that the artwork for this dates back to 1964 suggests that this one’s been lying dormant for a while – filler from the slush pile, perhaps. 3 out of 5.

1-A by Thomas M. Disch

And now on to the return of another recent stalwart. 1-A is an anti- military story. The Lead-In suggests that the story is based on Disch’s bad military experiences whilst briefly in the US Army, and as stories go, I must admit that it doesn’t show the US military training in a positive light. Quite deliberately polemic. In style and tone it reminded me a lot of Camp Concentration, which it pales against, frankly, but it still gets its anti-war message across, even when the characters seem to be outlandish caricatures and their action nonsensical.

As the magazine is now being sold in the US, this seems to be deliberately provocative, as an attack on bravery, courage and also unthinking behaviour – and interesting in context, especially with the recent publication in the US of those lists of authors for and against the ongoing Vietnam War. 3 out of 5.

Bug Jack Barron (Part 4 of 6) by Norman Spinrad

As we’re now on part 4 – the extract begins with Chapter Eight – this may not be the best place to begin this story, despite their being a whole page summarising what has gone on before.

This time Barron confronts Benedict Howards, the powerful owner of the Foundation for Human Immortality, on his television show. Using the phrase “Deathbed is go” Barron sets up a situation live on television where Delores Pulaski begs for Harold Lopat, her critically ill and dying father, to be cryogenically frozen. After the advert break, Jack, in a gesture reminiscent of the Roman Emperors, then puts Howards on the spot live on air whether Lopat lives or dies.

Howards is savaged by Barron’s rhetoric, but off the air they agree for Barron to back off from giving Howards a killer blow in return for future covert discussion. Later, Barron refuses another request from Green to stand for the SJC. The next day Barron agrees to meet Howards face-to-face in his office, when Howards offers Jack and Sara free Freezer contracts in return for public support.

Later, after Howards then tries to blackmail Sara, she tells Barron about the deal with Howards that she made.

This part seems a little more sedate than the overheated sexual escapades of the last issue. But whilst I admit that the repartee is clever and the ranting impressive, the whole part feels bloated and just too long – behind all of the anger, it seems to take a LONG time to go anywhere.

Will it win more readers? Probably not. But I must admit that after four issues I’d like to see how this ends, even if I feel that the story should have finished by now. 3 out of 5.

Article: The Mechanical Hypnotist by Dr. John Clark

Article time. Dr. John Clark tells us about hypnotism and how being the non-participant observer has improved his study. It was quite hard going to read, although quite interesting. I seem to remember Brian W. Aldiss’s Report on Probability A back in the March 1967 issue using such a technique, or at least discussing using such a technique.

Weather Man by James Sallis and David Lunde

And following on from a discussion on observational techniques, we have a story that is about observation. Weather man reports events such as the weather on a day when the reporter/observer watches a young lady from afar, then a storm, before things return to normal, although the effect on the young woman seems to suggest that there is more than meets the eye happening here.

Written in a lyrical stream-of-consciousness, it is not quite poetry and not-really-narrative. At least it is linear in presentation! Seeing as how Sallis has now become ‘Associate Editor’, I suspect we’re going to see more of this style of story in the future. 3 out of 5.

The Man Who Was Dostoevsky by Leo Zorin

And talking of observational reportage… new author Zorin describes events in that detached-observer mode we have already spoken of, as seen by ‘ Word System Number One’. He describes his surroundings and elements of his earlier life – his sister, his lover, a professor – in short, clipped sentences, such as ‘He drinks coffee.’

The kick is that it is revealed over the length of the story that the narrator is in some short of shock after events in some sort of post-apocalyptic world. The phrases and statements given in such an understated manner mean that the awful events described – talk of sex and penises, rape and murder – are designed to shock. Better than I thought it was at first going to be. 3 out of 5.

New Forms by John T. Sladek

OK. So, I guess that the joke here is probably that regular readers will know that the so-called ‘New Wave’ often looks at fiction in new forms. This ‘story’ by Sladek is set out on the page as a blank test paper, to be completed. It’s a new form – get it?

Whilst what is required in order to answer the paper becomes increasingly surreal and nonsensical, that’s about as good as it gets. Novelty rather than gravity, but it at least makes a point. 3 out of 5.

Concentrate 2 by Michael Butterworth

After Concentrate 1 (published in the New Worlds of August 1967), we now get Concentrate 2. It rather defies description (of course!), but it is another story a la J. G. Ballard that’s cut up into sections. (I’ve heard a rumour that Ballard was involved in editing this down from longer works, which would make sense.)

The allegory, for what it’s worth, seems to involve God-like creativity and chaos. Really though, it is little more than what we’ve had before – lyrical prose, designed to shock with its talk of sex, ‘niggers’ and religion. Graphic imagery and violence, all trying to mean more than it does.

To be fair, Butterworth’s stories and poetry have a lot of fans, including Moorcock. Unfortunately, I’m just not one of them. Rather than being innovative and interesting, this was tiresome for me. 2 out of 5.

The Valve Transcript by Joel Zoss

As the title suggests, this is a tale in the form of a transcript about an incident involving the fixing of a valve on an underground pipe. It’s dangerous work, costly to suspend but well paid. All seems rather mundane and low-key in conversational prose. Really not sure what its point is, which may be the point! The reason why the author's name is emblazoned on the front cover of the issue is a mystery to me –  like the Bailey story, earlier, this one feels like filler. 2 out of 5.

Article – The 77th Earl – A review of Titus Groan by Mervyn Peake by Langdon Jones

Langdon Jones continues to herald Meryvn Peake’s work (see also the article in New Worlds October 1967). This time Jones is concentrating on the first book in the Gormenghast series, Titus Groan, with a little mention of Peake’s book for children, Captain Slaughterboard Drops Anchor, all of which are being published or republished.

 

I must admit that for me Peake’s work still impresses, with Jones’s analysis doing a good job of illustrating the key elements of Peake’s prose, and some of Peake’s accompanying artwork quite chilling. Reading this reminded me further that part of Langdon Jones’s own story published last month, The Hall of Machines may have been inspired by Peake’s work. 4 out of 5.

Book Reviews – From The Outside In by James Sallis

And in the absence of poetry, we have reviews of poetry – four books of poetry and two novels reviewed by Sallis this month, none of which are genre. Despite Sallis’s attempts to persuade me of the poetry’s beauty, I remain stubbornly unmoved.

Summing up New Worlds

Is it me or does this issue feel a little less manic than the last? Are we in a holding pattern whilst new boys Sallis and Hill find their feet?

Whilst there are elements that still try to push people’s buttons, my general impression of this issue is that it feels relatively safe. There’s no cut up art shenanigans from Charles Platt, and although we have more poetic allegory, there is no poetry. The what-now-seems-typical use of shock language, usually to do with sex, race and religion, is included, but the overall cumulative effect seems to lessen the impact of such violent, unpleasant words.

Similarly, we have a lot of New Worlds regulars, with some new names, admittedly, and whilst some of the topics (Disch’s anti-war rant) and the language (see Bug Jack Barron) may still be controversial, much of the material actually doesn’t feel like anything new.

We have two pieces that feel like they’re there to fill up space, the Peake article is on an author we’ve seen before, the Disch just reads like an extension of the ideas in Camp Concentration to me, and the Butterworth a less worthy imitation of Ballard.

As shown by those middle-score marks out of 5 throughout, this issue may not be as much of a scandal as some might think the magazine could (or should!) be. Whilst it is perhaps a good summary of where New Worlds is at today, despite protests to the contrary this issue seems to push fewer of those boundaries.

Anyway, that’s it, until next time.



 

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Fashion, music, politics, sports

[March 24, 1968] A Frivolous Escape into Fashion

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by Gwyn Conaway

Recently I found myself reading Vogue, as I often do in the spring, to surmise the direction of fashion for the coming year. March’s issues did not disappoint in providing a vibrant view of the year to come in mainstream fashion. I speak primarily of its frivolity and lack of connection to the state of the world.


Mr. Dino brings in the summer with a "brisk ambassa-dress", a play on the word "ambassador", decorated in stately medals and ribbons of honor to invoke patriotic hopefulness in womenswear, Vogue, March 1968.

It’s apparent to me that womenswear this spring has a singular purpose in creating an escape from the tensions of politics and war. Vogue explores this through romanticizing the ancient empires of the Mediterranean – a common escape during times of uncertainty – and crewing the ship of our adventures.

Perhaps you've read that sentence twice, so let me set the scene for you and expand upon my findings. Many fashions this spring follow one of two roads. Firstly, a romanticization of the past through modern resort prints and silk taffeta skirts. Secondly, a sleek uniform style inspired by the Mod movement, but specifically naval in aesthetic that lends itself to our obsession with the classics. Combined, these two modes of fashion suggest that women this year are both the vehicles of escapism and the destination.

Above is a beautiful example of romanticization of the past with details in both mens and womenswear indicating details of Napoleon's army. He invaded several regions, including Egypt, one of the three classical empires in Western philosophy. Note the beaded cuff in a chevron to mimic that of an admiral, the jeweled buttons, and silver damask waistcoat, all of which mimic court dress of the French Empire in the early nineteenth century.

By comparison, the Mod and Space Age movements have evolved into a nautical theme this year with navy and white being the dominant color palette. Note the mantle in worsted crepe with Brandenburg braiding, the wide white belt with a rectangular buckle that mimics formal naval uniforms, and a pervasive use of white gloves all across womenswear, also indicative of formal military etiquette. The Contessa outfit to the right jaunts the hat to the side and sports chevron-detailed pockets indicative of infantry troops. Please also take a glance at the pillars at her back, which happen to be Egyptian in origin.


Another fascinating interpretation of our frivolous escapism this season is Estee Lauder's advertisement of crème makeup (left), in which the ensemble is made of chiffon and lost amongst the wallpaper, and Valentino (right). His ensemble here is quite a curious combination of a silk organza blouse with a sailor's collar paired with silverleaf shorts derived from statues of Greek archers and pottery.


Advertisements for The Wet Set by Hanes and Berkshire's Miracle Fibers. Both of these advertisements were accompanied by cosmetics that prided themselves on softness and transparency.

Much to my surprise, every page in this spring’s issues is dedicated to the delicacy and girlishness of women rather than our evolving brand of sharp intellectualism and keen pursuits. Even our undergarments have taken on the look of water, iridescent like velvet, advertised to invoke the sea. These liquid nylons are soft and transparent, two traits many of the fashions this spring strive for in their customers. Bold strokes in Vogue have been abandoned in opposition to the youth movements that so loudly defy long-held traditions and establishments of power. As a result of this feud, I find us returning to a dichotomy as old as time: the bold, intellectual woman and the more favorable docile lady.


There was no advertisement more en pointe than Van Raalte, which says of its sleepwear, "Beneath an air of independence: little girl sleepers."

Though the styles presented upon the main stage of fashion across Europe and New York are modern, beautiful, and tailored to perfection, I wonder… Is this how women view themselves in our age? I’m inclined to disagree with the ancient gods of couture this year, and I suspect that young women in particular resent being depicted as new mothers and home decor. I’m curious to see how women use their voices in the coming months, and to what end. How will they be viewed? How will we judge them? My expectation is that if major fashion publications continue this trend, there will be a stark divide amongst women, just as there was during the Suffrage Movement at the turn of the century. While soft-spoken, mannerly women will be seen as beautiful and proper, those holding picket signs will be viewed as ugly and brash.

The homefront war is just beginning…

[Want to discuss the evolving culture of 1968? Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge!]




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[March 22, 1968] (Two Things Only the People Anxiously Desire, Star Trek: "Bread and Circuses")

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Strange New Worlds?


by Janice L. Newman

In the first season of Star Trek, we saw the crew visit plenty of “strange new worlds”. From the rocky planet where they met The Man Trap to the caves of The Devil in the Dark to the green and deceptively-pleasant planet This Side of Paradise, they took us to places we’d never been and introduced us to thoughtful, interesting ideas. Even when sets were more familiar locales (Miri, Tomorrow is Yesterday, and The City on the Edge of Forever come to mind) the stories were usually fresh and interesting.

In the second half of the second season, we’ve been seeing a new trend, perhaps based on ideas first introduced in “Miri”: planets which have, for one reason or another, evolved to look almost exactly like Earth at some point in history. A Piece of the Action took us to Prohibition-era Chicago. Patterns of Force brought the crew to Nazi Germany. And this week’s episode took us to a ‘modernized’ version of ancient Rome.


The story opens with the Enterprise seeking out the survivors from a ship that was hit by a meteorite six years ago. They track the trajectory of the debris back to a planet and Kirk, Spock, and McCoy beam down to seek out any survivors. They immediately encounter a group of escaped slaves, members of a sun-worshiping cult, who agree to help them. Before they manage to get near the city, though, they are captured and imprisoned. They’re greeted by Merik, the captain of the lost vessel and now “First Citizen”, and Proconsul Claudius Marcus, who knows much more than he should about who they are and why they’re there.

Claudius tries to force Captain Kirk to call down the crew of his ship. When Kirk refuses, Claudius orders Spock and McCoy thrown into the ‘arena’ for a televised battle. The set is a fun merging of modern culture and ancient Roman aesthetics. As Kirk watches with helpless frustration, Spock unwillingly fights against the gladiator assigned to him while McCoy is fortunately assigned Flavius, a “Brother of the Sun” who tries to refuse violence, even as he is “encouraged” to fight by a guard wielding a whip. The “Amok Time” fight theme is well-integrated here, and it makes for an exciting scene. In the end Spock defeats his opponent and rescues McCoy by giving Flavius a Vulcan neck pinch to knock him out.

Spock and McCoy are returned to their cell, where Spock visibly agonizes over their separation, repeatedly trying the bars and looking for a way out. McCoy sheepishly tries to thank Spock for saving his life, which Spock responds to with replies clearly meant to needle and annoy the good doctor. It’s nice to see their roles reversed for once, with Spock doing the deliberate antagonizing. McCoy responds by getting in Spock’s face and hissing out a pointed jab at Spock’s vulnerabilities. Spock’s quiet response, which manages to combine acknowledgement and defiance in two words and a lifted eyebrow, is a work of art. This is my favorite scene in the episode, and one of my favorite scenes in all of Star Trek so far. All of the ‘old married couple’ arguing and mutual antagonism we’ve seen in prior episodes between the ‘heart’ and ‘mind’ of the Enterprise come together to shape this moment of intense intimacy.

Meanwhile, Kirk is brought to a luxurious bedchamber and offered the use of an eager female slave. He doesn’t refuse.


Ah, there's Roddenberry's influence

Claudius returns to Kirk a few hours later in a rather nice transition and tells him he is to be executed on national television. Scotty, who has not been idle on the Enterprise, delivers a careful blow to the city’s electrical system, blacking everything just long enough for Kirk to get away and return to the prison (where he tells his two officers that their captors ‘threw him a few curves’, haha). Merick redeems himself by tossing Kirk a communicator, and the three men beam back to the Enterprise in the nick of time, leaving the Roman planet behind.


Credit where it's due–the escape scene is masterful

And so it’s all over but the shouting, or rather, the final pun: the sun worshippers don’t worship the sun, they worship the son – as in, the son of god. Cue smiles from some of the Christians in the audience and an eyeroll or two from the Jewish and non-religious viewers.

Did I like this episode? There were many things to like, starting with the scene between McCoy and Spock, which is a five if taken by itself. There were definitely some things to dislike, such as the ‘sun/son’ setup and Kirk’s unhesitating willingness to take advantage of the attractive female slave offered to him. Overall, though, the cinematography, use of library music, and use of sets and props was a cut above the usual. The episode was well-paced and exciting, and Shatner’s acting was more understated than usual. Despite a couple of things dragging it down, I give it four stars.

The Unbroken Planet


by Joe Reid

We tend to think of heroes as powerful people who use their powers to right the wrongs of the world.  Star Trek has provided us with heroes that always right wrongs.  When Jim Kirk gets to a new world and finds something amiss, he will do everything possible to make sure that baddies are struck down and peace is restored.  This has been especially true when the cause of the disturbance on a planet was a human, or even worse… a Klingon!  This season we had two examples of Starfleet people purposefully taking control of native populations for their own benefit.  In “Patterns of Force”, John Gill literally turned the inhabitants of one planet into Nazis in order to “help” them.  Then, in “The Omega Glory”, we had Ron Tracey ruling over one faction of humans to eradicate another in order to gain immortality.  Both stories took place on Earth-like planets which boasted histories divergent from our own.  Each story ended with Captain Kirk dealing with the corrupting influence and setting the cultures back on course. 

This week’s “Bread and Circuses” started off much the same as the mentioned episodes.  Some Starfleet person was stuck on a very Earth-like planet with a divergent history.  The crew had a similar obligation as before; to get the space people off the planet before they ruin the people of that world and pervert their development.  Here is where the similarities end.  “Bread and Circuses” turns that recurrent theme on its ear.  Instead of the inhabitants of a planet having to contend with a strong and smart human dominating them, this time it was the weak human, Captain Merik of the SS Beagle, who was dominated by the strong and intelligent Proconsul Marcus.  Marcus overpowered Merik’s mind and will, causing him to sacrifice most of his crew to gladiatorial games in order to save himself.


Puppet and master

Previous episodes on this theme had Kirk seeking to find an alien titan like himself and remove them from power.  This world already had a home-grown titan, who corrupted and broke the man Kirk was looking for.  There was nothing for Kirk to set right on this world.  The humans were the victims, not the victimizers this time.  Kirk found himself outmatched by Proconsul Marcus.  He was captured, threatened, and made powerless by Marcus, just like Merik was before, although Kirk put up more of a fight than Merik did, earning some degree of respect from Marcus.  Marcus was eventually going to break him, as well, given enough time.  The mission ended with Kirk, Spock, and McCoy fleeing for their lives and Merik dying from a knife to his back after a last-minute act of failed heroism. 

This was the one time where the captain of the Enterprise could not fix the problem on a world.  It’s mainly because there was no problem to fix, at least none that he was legally allowed to fix. The society on the planet was progressing down its natural evolutionary path.  Human intervention didn't topple the wagon.  Humans ended up run over by the wagon, which carried on unabated.  “Bread and Circuses” had a subversive twist on what had preceded it in the other episodes.  It felt original, even though some themes started off appearing reused before the twist came about.  In total, the costumes, acting, sets, camera work, and story were all done well.  It was pretty good. 

4 stars

Don't throw back the throwback


by Gideon Marcus

David Levinson, who tends to write letters in after the fact rather than contribute directly to our Trek coverage, noted recently that he was starting not to care if the show got renewed for a third season. We had run into a pretty dire patch of episodes, after all. But between last week and this week, his faith is somewhat restored.

Mine, too.  I observed early on that "Bread and Circuses" felt more like a first-season episode than any of its second-season brethren.  Perhaps it was the copious use of outdoor settings, or Shatner's return to first season form.  Maybe it was Ralph Senensky's crisp direction (he may well supplant Marc Daniels as my favorite on the show).  Maybe it was the collaboration of the two Genes, Roddenberry and Coon, who reeled in each other's excesses rather than adding to them.

I also absolutely adored the fusion of gladiatorial games and modern television.  It was subtle satire in the Sheckley or even Pohl/Kornbluth vein.


Not much different from a boxing match or football game

The one missed opportunity was setting the planet on a near-Earth rather than an exact duplicate, a la "Miri."  I've always liked Lorelei's idea that the galaxy is largely populated by Earth-clones (for some unknown reason) and that's why we get these close parallel history episodes.  Having a completely different planet evolve humans, let alone 20th Century Romans, beggared the imagination.

On the other hand, as our newcomer, Blue Cathey-Thiele explains, maybe it's not so implausible after all…

Four stars on my end.  There are some hiccoughs in the episode, but they're lumped early on, and you've forgotten them by the conclusion.

Bread, Circuses, and Laurel Leaves


By Mx. Blue Cathey-Thiele

In "Bread and Circuses", McCoy comments that the Romans had no sun worshippers. He may need to brush up on his history – or even just ship logs! Earlier this season in "Who Mourns For Adonais", the crew met Apollo on Pollux IV, and while many Roman deities shared traits but not names with their Greek counterparts, the god of music and the sun was known as Apollo to both cultures.

And this raises an interesting question: could the wayward god have stopped over at this planet on his way to Pollux IV? It would go a long way in explaining its many similarities to both modern and ancient Earth. Whether he visited alone or with the rest of his pantheon, his powers would have been enough to leave a lasting impression. A world built to suit the needs of a deity who thrived in Greece and Rome close to two millennia ago, by the time the Enterprise shows up. In fact, a better question might be, why would Apollo ever leave?

Perhaps it was not him, but one of his cohort. He was the last of his kind, and while he said that gods do not die the way mortals do, they fade. Per his account, one of the goddesses spread herself thinner and thinner until she was gone. Could some part of her have found this world and influenced its development? Remained there as things like the industrial revolution came along, the invention of television, while her diminished presence ensured that the Roman Empire kept a firm grip on society?


The ex-senator explains why he no longer worships Apollo

The inhabitants even spoke English! Having a lingual origin of Latin would greatly increase the chances of a language developing with even a slight similarity to the form of English currently spoken. Who better to serve as a source of this language than someone who was there when the people around him used it on a daily basis? Apollo (or his shadowy companion) would be a living dictionary.

We can even guess about the stirrings of the "Son (not sun) of God". Apollo stayed long enough on Earth for belief to fade in him and his fellow gods of Olympus. He would have been around to hear of an emerging belief system, particularly one that was in competition to his own status. Apollo was hardly shy about sharing his own history, and if he mentioned this Earth faith, someone, somewhere would take interest.

To this viewer, a powerful visitor leaving a lasting influence on the planet seems far more likely than running across yet another example of "Hodgkin's Law of Parallel Planetary Development" in such a short span of time.

4 stars.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[March 20, 1968] Missed opportunities (April 1968 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

A week is a long time in politics

The British Prime Minister Harold Wilson is fond of noting that a lot can change in just seven days.  In American politics, the last seven days have witnessed a lifetime of tumult.

It was just last year that President Johnson was polling in the 70s.  When Minnesota Senator Eugene McCarthy, stand-offish, brainy, tepid in his commitment, took to the field last November, few took his insurgent, Anti-Vietnam-War campaign seriously.  Least of all, President Johnson, who did not even apply to be on the ballot in New Hampshire's primary, scheduled for March 12.

Then the Tet Offensive happened, giving lie to the idea of slow but steady progress in Southeast Asia.  The Credibility Gap between the populace and the President became a canyon, and when the dust had settled, Senator McCarthy had garnered just 230 votes less than LBJ in the year's first Democratic primary.

Just a few days latter, Senator Robert F. Kennedy, who had last year demurred from running, referring anti-war supplicants in McCarthy's direction, decided to throw his hat in the ring.  The Democratic insurgency has become a full-on party civil war.

Johnson's complacence reminds me of Georges Ernest Boulanger, who in January 1889 was elected deputy for Paris and seemed on the verge of leading a personal coup against the Third Republic.  But on the fateful day of January 27, when the crowds roamed the streets and chanted his name, the would-be despot was nowhere to be found.  Turned out he had missed his moment, lost in the arms of his mistress rather than under arms with his supporters.

Who knows where all this is headed?  It just goes to show that even the most promising candidate can fail for lack of sufficient focus on the goal.  And this leads me into discussion of this month's issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction.


by Bert Tanner

Burned batch

Have you ever been careless in the kitchen, not so much as to ruin dinner, but to render it far less palatable than it could have been?  All of the stories this month are missing something.  Their imperfection lies in missing some quality, or in some cases, an overcooking of sorts.  The result is a handful of ideas that could have been good in others' hands, or perhaps with more expert editing, or more time and care in production.

Flight of Fancy, by Daniel F. Galouye

After a long hiatus, the author of the brilliant Dark Universe returns to the pages of science fiction with this, probably the best piece of the issue.

Frank Proctor is an ad man, miserable in his career and his life, shackled to a beautiful woman who insists on tormenting him with affair after affair.  But he stubbornly refuses to divorce her, knowing it means financial ruin.  His only solace is his recurrent dreams in which he has the ability to fly.  He knows it is a stress reaction, but at least it is a moment's surcease.

A greater balm arises: at a company beach party, Frank falls asleep by the shore and immediately begins to soar in his dream.  While apparently still in slumber, he meets a lovely young lady, who also possesses the ability to fly.  Happily, she is still there when he wakes, and he assumes he must have been sleeping with his eyes open for her to infiltrate his sleep.

Of course, romance is inevitable.  But what of his Frank's scheming wife, and will the pictures she took of him and his new love put him over a barrel?  The ending is ultimately a happy one, if a bit pat.

This is a well-crafted and vivid story.  My only real issue is it feels a bit like wish-fulfillment, and I have to wonder if Galouye just went through a messy divorce.

Four stars.

Dead to Rights, by R. C. FitzPatrick

Crime boss Angelo Amadeo is rubbed out by his second.  When the instrument of Angelo's death turns stoolie, the second's devotees enlist a surgeon to recall Angelo to life, reasoning that if Angelo is not dead anymore, then he never could have been murdered.

The problem is, Angelo's body is brought back to life, but the soul inside is most definitely not his.  Instead, the reborn inhabitant preaches love of fellow man and everlasting life in the adoration of God.

You can see where this is going.

Too much effort is made to make this a "funny" piece, and the conclusion is obvious from the start.  Two stars.


by Gahan Wilson

Without a Doubt Dream, by Bruce McAllister

Antonio and his lovely wife, Alba, wake up one day to find their pine-ensconced villa suddenly surrounded by endless desert.  Worse, the insinuating sands are slowly creeping in, destroying all that they touch.  Antonio reasons that only his psychic ability is shielding them, but his doubt in the same talent is causing him to lose the battle.

McAllister describes this all in an earnest, somber tone, and he successfully captures the feeling of a pair of foreign protagonists.  However, the piece ends rather abruptly, and without a great deal of evolution of the story.  Moreover, the tone is a bit too one-dimensional.

Thus, for this third piece by this promising, 19-year old author, I give three stars.

Demon, by Larry Brody

Pinchok, a simple blue-collar worker who happens to be the denizen of another plane, is summoned to Earth in a pentagram by a would-be three-wisher.  When Pinchok turns out to be rather useless as a genie, the summoner decides maybe Pinchok should devote his talents to crime…for the benefit of the human, of course.

The concept of demons just being aliens in another dimension, and the art of demonology more a kind of kidnapping (with the implication that it might work the other direction, too, with humans becoming the demons) is an intriguing premise.

This tale, while pleasant enough, just doesn't do enough with it, however.  Three stars.

The Superior Sex, by Miriam Allen deFord

William, an astronaut, finds himself the newest member of an all-male harem, subject to an imperious and beautiful mistress.  He cannot recall how he got there, but he can recall being from a world dedicated to the principle (if not the assiduous practice) of equality between the sexes.  Thus, he rankles at his new role, and in an interview with his mistress, exclaims that he would rather die than live subjugated.

Of course, the truth of his situation is more complex than it first seems.

This is almost a great story.  DeFord, an ardent women's libber before the phrase was coined, has a promising message in this piece that is then muddled by its ending.  Too bad.

Three stars.

The Time of His Life, by Larry Eisenberg

One of science fiction's few writer/scientists offers up this tale of a middle-aged scientist resentful of forever being in the shadow of his Nobel-winning father, who covets his son's wastrel youth.  Said elder has now invented a kind of time travel, but it ages or youthens the traveler rather than sending him elsewhen.  In the end, both father and son get what they want.

A decent Twilight Zone-esque piece.  Three stars.

The Dance of the Sun, by Isaac Asimov

This month, the good Doctor discusses the phases of the inner planets with respect to the Earth.  He also notes that Dr. Richardson had done a similar piece for Analog a few months back.  Frankly, I was more impressed with Richardson's; I found Asimov's dry and difficult to follow.  And astronomy was my major!

Two stars.

Muscadine, by Ron Goulart

Mr. Muscadine is an android programmed to produce great books.  The secret to his success is the idiosyncrasies fundamentally coded into his electronic brain.  But as his eccentricities spin out of control, his agent finds himself conspiring with the android's programmer toward a drastic solution.

Goulart can write well, and he can also write funny.  He does neither here.  Two stars.

Final War, by K. M. O'Donnell

Finally, an anti-war piece in the vein of Heller's Catch 22.  It features a Private Hastings, a war-addled First Sergeant, and an indecisive Captain, whose unit spends three days a week capturing a forest, three days a week being driven from the forest, and Mondays resting.  What follows is the usual silliness of war, including friendly fire, endless red tape, and general insanity.

Harrison did it MUCH better in his Starsloggers.  This one meanders for way too long in a singular vein.  Two stars.

Expected results

With a limp offering like this, it's no surprise that this issue ends up on the wrong side of three stars.  It's a shame.  Joe/Ed Ferman's mag is often one of the frontrunners in the field.  But with a month like this, I suspect Mercury Publishing is going to have an upset when compared against its competitors for April 1968.

Luckily, science fiction is an endless primary, and a month is a very very long time.




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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[March 18, 1968] What Defines Humanity? (Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?)

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by Robin Rose Graves

What defines Humanity?

When Androids are created to look and behave indistinguishably from humans, this question bears even greater importance.

The setting: Earth. The time: not too far from now. Rick Deckard is a man whose job is to “retire” escaped androids, using an empathy test to determine who is human and who is not. Most questions revolve around treatment of animals and only complete revulsion at the thought of eating meat or using leather made from an animal’s hide would allow someone to pass.

Ironic, given that I would not pass this test, and you, Dear Reader, probably wouldn’t either.

But these attitudes make sense in the context of Deckard’s world.

Survivors are few and far between on a nuclear-war destroyed Earth. Most humans have emigrated to a terraformed Mars. Animals no longer exist in the wild and what few creatures have evaded extinction are kept as pets and used as a sign of social status. Rick Deckard’s sheep shamefully died years ago, and since not owning an animal at all would mark him as inhuman, Deckard secretly replaced his animal with an ersatz electric sheep. Most of his motivation in this story is to acquire a new live animal to replace his fake one, and it’s this social pressure that leads him to taking on one last job before he leaves retiring androids behind him.

While hunting a dangerous group of runaway androids, Deckard is seduced by an android he meets earlier in the story – Rachael. Rachael so happens to share the same model as one of the targets and attempts to seduce him so that he will feel conflicted about killing his target.

I enjoy when sexuality is explored in science fiction, but the scene that follows was greatly uncomfortable for me to read. Don’t mistake me for being a prude, but Rachael’s body is described as pre-pubescent. Perhaps Dick meant to relay that she is lacking in shape or body hair, but I read it to be girlishly young. I believe the author’s intent might have been to relay to readers that this relationship is immoral, in which case, I think he succeeded.

While Deckard’s weakness towards androids is rooted in his sexual attraction towards them, there is another notable character who empathizes with the androids, but for a drastically different reason.

Because he scored too low on an IQ test, Isidore has been marked as “special,” meaning he isn’t allowed to emigrate to Mars or even procreate and overall is regarded as “lesser.” When the group of runaways Deckard is hunting hides out in Isidore’s otherwise abandoned building, he quickly allies with them, out of perhaps a mix of loneliness but also kinship.

I found Isidore to be the most compelling character in the book. Through him, Dick creates a strong irony. Humans feel superior over androids, priding themselves on the one thing they have that androids don’t – the ability to empathize – yet it’s ironic that Isidore, a human being, is actually treated worse than animals for his supposed lack of intelligence, while androids are most notable for being incredibly intelligent.

Author: Philip K. Dick

So what defines humanity? Dick offers no clear answers, but instead evokes several interesting discussion points that I am sure will stick with me for years to come. 5 Stars.


by Jason Sacks

I’ve raved about Philip K. Dick several times in these pages, full of praise for his kitchen-sink imagination and his unprecedented ability to build up worlds. The estimable Mr. Dick has done some astoundingly great work in the past, but his latest novel, which has the brilliantly odd title Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, is his best work so far.

The most pervasive theme in Dick’s writing is the idea that technology can't lift us up to a higher place. In fact,  no matter how greatly our technology improves, humanity can never escape its own inner pathos. People will always be people, with all our multifaceted flaws, and we can never escape our basest motives.

Do Androids Dream is set in an Earth which is living with the aftereffects of World War Terminus, a nuclear event which nobody quite knows who started, but which has caused utter devastation on our planet. Earth has mostly been deserted – most people have been killed by the war and its radiation, and those who weren’t killed or sterilized by the resulting fallout were transported off-planet to various planets, where a new civilization has emerged with andy (android) servants of “as many types as there were cars in the 1950s," a nice Dickian touch of verisimilitude.

It's also a nice Dickian touch for there to be so much uncertainty who started the War, and for nobody much to care about its origins. As he nearly always does, Dick concentrates on the ordinary people affected by the event and on their sad little lives of quiet desperation.

Our main character is a poor schlub named Rick Deckard, who we immediately learn is married to a woman who seems indifferent to him. Iran Deckard loves her Penfield Mood Organ, a device she uses to dial her mood to a six-hour self-accusatory depression (or an awareness of the manifold opportunities open to her in the future, to help her break out of the depression). Rick and Iran bicker and fight, about her love for the Penfield, about Rick’s love for his animal, and about why the couple couldn’t emigrate from Earth. Iran is a pretty typical wife in a Dick novel – we’ve seen him write shrewish women since his nongenre novels of the 1940s – but this wife has some agency about her, some inner life which shows an emotional complexity beyond some of the more impulsive women Dick has written in previous works.

Like most of the people who live in this devastated San Francisco, Deckard is captivated by the idea of owning an animal. In a world devastated by war, an animal is a precious commodity. But Deckard can’t find an actual living animal to buy, at least not anything he wants to buy or remotely in his price range.

So Deckard has to buy an artificial animal, a robotic sheep, to take place of his sad living sheep who died of tetanus. Deckard is obsessed with the pathetic nature of his robotic animal, desperate to own a real living animal as a status symbol to make his life more fulfilling. If he earns enough credits on his job, Deckard might be able to buy a bovine creature, perhaps a cow, if he can pick up a well-paying job.

Deckard works as a kind of android hunter, in fact. See, andys from the colonies have returned to the Earth, and Deckard is paid a commission to hunt down and bag the andys. But it can be hard to tell the difference between the andys and the real people. The only easy way to tell the difference is through an understanding of empathy. The Voight-Kampff scale tests empathy; when Deckard’s predecessor tried to use the scale on an andy, he was brutally killed for his efforts. Thus, taking on this bounty hunter case is a test for Deckard in a truly existential way – both his sense of his own humanity and his very life are under threat.

Humans exist in a constant cloud of empathy. Deckard feels things, often too deeply. He lives in a world of envy and object lust, of self-pity and pathos.

He’s even part of a fascinating pseudo-religion called Mercerism whose practices are based all around the creation of a kind of empathy in its followers. Followers of Mercerism connect themselves to a kind of universal shared device which allows them to psychically feel each other as well as feeling empathy for all of Mercer’s struggles as be battles his way up a hill while being pelted with rocks from some unknown force. There’s an element of the passion of the Christ in Mercer's struggles, as this near universal connection and sacrifice connects all the believers to each other in a transcendent way.

Mr. Dick, in a recent photo

Opposing Mercer is Buster Friendly, the always-on, always smirking TV personality who has an unbreakable influence on everybody on both Earth and the colonies. Buster interrupts his endless blather with a diatribe against Mercer – and the way that whole storyline plays out is tremendously interesting.

Our secondary protagonist here, John Isidore (see Robin's article above for her insightful views of him), is a major follower of Mercerism, and the way this religion spans class and intelligence is a fascinating element of Dick's tale. In the future, it seems culture is monololithic and controlled by unseeing, unknown people for reasons scarcely pondered – a fascinating black hole in this most complex novel.

And, wow, there’s just so much else here that’s rich and intriguing. The book touches deeply on the concept of entropy, with Deckard acting as a kind of force that continually unmakes the world around him. Crucial to the ideas of the book is the idea of kipple, the slow entropy and destruction of everything mankind made. Deckard is a kind of human version of kipple, causing the dissolution of all of mankind’s aspirations.

There are nods to the arts, and to real human love, and there are some beautiful passages about human loneliness and this is all written in such lovely, simple, precise prose.

And the ending does so much to cast the entirety of this rich, complex world in a different light. The ending of this novel has a profound effect on what happened previously and leaves a powerful aftertaste for the reader.

Do Android Dream brings so many thematic lines to the surface in so many ways, with so many different approaches, that the writing approaches true profundity.

What does it mean to be human when your emotions are regulated, when your passions are sublimated into hobbies, when you’re mistreated by others, when even the very basic nature of humanity is nullified by the concept of artificial beings indistinguishable from real people? Is it inherent in being a human being to feel base emotions but to also seek the kind of transcendence that Mercerism provides? Is it really our empathy that makes us human? Does it decrease our humanity to have to dial up emotions or does it enhance that same humanity? Are all our petty goals and aspirations unimportant when our shared sacrifice for Mercer makes individuality feel almost subversive? In the end, what does it mean to be human at all?

And all of this brilliant philosophy is delivered in a beautifully written novel of a mere 170 compulsively readable pages.

This is Philip K. Dick’s finest work so far. 5 stars, and a clear contender for a Galactic Star of 1968.




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