Tag Archives: 1968

[December 16, 1968] Adventure and eulogies (December Galactoscope)

December 16, 2023 Kris Vyas-Myall 7 Comments

by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

Arthur Sellings Double Feature

I was sad to read in last month’s Science Fiction Times of the death of Arthur Sellings at only 47. His is a name not well known enough outside of the UK.

Example covers of Authentic Galaxy Fantastic Universe If from 1953-1955 containing Sellings work — Just some of the markets from the early-mid 50s publishing Sellings

His story follows the standard pattern of many of the current crop of great SF writers. He began at the start of the 50s magazine boom, being published first in the British magazine Authentic in 1953. He then became a regular contributor to H. L. Gold’s Galaxy, going on to appear in many of the major US publications.

Example Covers of Science Fiction Adventures, New Worlds, Science Fantasy containing Sellings work along with his first novel, The Silent Speakers — He continued to be published in the 3 major UK magazines as well as starting on his own novels

As the magazine market contracted, he was concentrated largely in the British publications of Carnell and Moorcock, but also branched out into paperback novels.

In spite of getting well reviewed works coming out of Ballantine and occasional appearances in Pohl’s various periodicals, most SF fans across the pond would probably have no recollection of the fellow. His death marks a double shame as he was as prolific as ever and British writers, finally, seem to be getting more acceptance in America.

Yet it should not be thought he was a Moorcockian New Waver. Seven months before Ballard published his famous Which Way to Inner Space? in New Worlds, Sellings used the same editorial column to suggest his own vision to save SF, entitled Where Now?. Here is an extract:

The Next Revolution…is a return to roots…I am certainly not advocating a return to the rudimentary kind of s-f in which a professor holds up everything for two or three pages, while he explains it all to his idiot daughter…But a story should be intelligible – in itself – without reference to any other…Science fiction has become too glib. That sense of wonder is the prime thing which s-f can offer to the new-comer. If it doesn’t that is one more reason for him to turn away.
….Earth Abides, a ‘simple’ story on a theme as old as Noah. Yet it was new – and just as compelling for the fan as for the general reader…All the basic themes can similarly and profitably be investigated.

So, what has that meant in practice? Well, his best works have often dealt with familiar ideas but trying to consider *how* this might play out to an ordinary person. Silent Speakers looks at how having some limited telepathy could affect an individual, much in the manner of Wells’ Invisible Man, whilst The Last Time Around, uses the time dilation effect to look at how the traveller into the future would struggle to adjust to social changes and maintain relationships.

This year he released two of his best works, a short story collection and a novel. So, let's pour one out for Arthur and dive into his books:

The Power of X by Arthur Sellings

Cover of 1968 edition of The Power of X — Cover by Richard Weaver

In 2014 “Plying” was developed, the ability to duplicate an object exactly by taking it out of the fourth dimension. Although it could not be done infinitely, this created a large secondary market for Plied paintings, where someone may pay higher amounts for an original in order to make their money back via Plying twelve copies. Of course, the process is expensive and highly regulated.

Four years later, Max Afford, the new owner of Gallery O, discovers he has the unusual ability to detect whether or not a painting is Plied by touch. This would have turned out to be little more than a curiosity if it wasn’t for him being invited to meet the President of Europe…only to discover he is just a Plied copy of the original.

Everyone tells Max that it is not scientifically possible, yet he can sense it has been done. Who could do such a thing? And why?

Around 30 years ago Walter Benjamin wrote The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. Last year, Andy Warhol created 10 portraits of Marilyn Monroe through mechanical printing. So, whilst “Plying” may not be quite available today, the questions being grappled with are contemporary ones.

This work touches on the nature of reality, what is lost when something is duplicated and the aura that we have around certain objects. These are heady subjects, but Sellings displays his usual skill to make them understandable and fit them into a science fictional framework without it descending into a word salad of gobbledygook.

At the same time, it is a well-paced conspiracy thriller that does a wonderful job creating the world of a 21st century united European republic. As you are quickly going on with the plot, someone will give away they are from London by using the metric system in East Anglia, where the locals generally do not. The feel is closer to The Great Escape than 2001: A Space Odyssey.

It should also not go unnoticed that Sellings has a wonderful turn of phrase, and some parts are deliciously funny such as:

The ‘package’ must be something special, or she would have simply brought it in to me. What was it? A three-ton hunk of concrete by Harold Bleckstein? He was in the middle of a three-ton concrete period just then and had an artist’s fine disregard for such small details as phoning to let you know the latest was on the way.

‘Not a patch on that brewery, was it, Ada?’ I don’t know what they had expected. Free samples?

Add into this multiple fleshed-out women characters and some very progressive attitudes on display and I am more than happy to give this a full five stars.

The Long Eureka by Arthur Sellings

Cover of the 1968 Edition of The Long Eureka — Cover by Richard Weaver

His second short story collection covers from where the last one left off, in 1956, going up to 1964, along with a couple of originals.

Blank Form

Black and white illustration of a psychiatrist in his office talking to a shapeshifter in the form of a bear — Illustration by Martinez, from Galaxy

Originally published in July 1958 Galaxy, Sellings tells of Fletcher, a psychologist who believes he has run down a man with his car. It turns out that the victim is not only uninjured, but is actually an amnesiac shape-shifter. Being a psychologist, Fletcher does not wish to hurt or profit by this fellow, but to help him.

This is a perfect example of what Sellings does so well. Take a standard SFnal concept and bring it into a much more ordinary mode, looking at how different people might react in an uncliched manner. The ending feels a bit incomplete but still a strong tale.

Four Stars

The Scene Shifter

Cover of 1959 edition of Star Science Fiction #5 — Cover Artist Unknown

Possibly the high point of his American career. This story was published in Star Science Fiction #5, between Daniel F. Galouye & Rosel George Brown.

When actor Boyd Corry goes to see one of his films, he finds it has been changed from a drama to a broad comedy. Soon it happens again, where an ordinary romantic comedy is changed to pornography. These shots were not filmed and the reels themselves have not been tampered with. What could be causing this?

At first this seems like a slight tale about the movie industry, something of a piece with The Time-Machined Saga, but it evolves into something deeper. It looks at the relationship between the audience and the picture, asking who really has control of a story.

Four Stars

One Across

Black and White illustration of a newspaper boy yelling: "Extra! Gedge disappears behind Russia's lines!" Whilst behind him there is a man's face in agony and a hand points towards the words — Illustration by Cal, from Galaxy

Jumping back to earlier in Selling’s career, One Across was originally published in May 1956’s Galaxy.

Norman is addicted to crosswords, doing more and more challenging puzzles. In the most fiendish puzzle yet, he discovers it can only be solved by utilizing four dimensions. This realization causes him to be transported to another dimension, a desert plain inhabited by people who have solved complex problems. They are building a utopia and need him for one purpose, breeding.

This does feel like it is from a writer’s earlier career, more what you might see turn up in an If First. It has a good style and some interesting ideas but none of them are properly explored.

Two Stars

The Well-Trained Heroes

Black and White illustration of a man in a black outfit looking haggard — Illustration by Jack Gaughan, from Galaxy

Now for a more recent piece, covered by the Journey in the review of Galaxy June 1964. Our esteemed editor synopsized it well , so I am not going to be repetitious.

We are also in agreement in our thoughts on the story. The central concept, a kind of reverse The Space Merchants, is a good one, but the story is too long and rambling, with the decision to make it told predominantly through dialogue making it all far too expository.

A low Three Stars

Homecoming

In this previously unpublished work, Sellings once again makes use of an amnesiac. Sam Bishop wakes up after a car smash with only the vaguest memories of his life. Having lost his legs in the accident, Sam finds himself growing restless without a job. And, in spite of how nice everyone in Greenville seems, he can’t help but feel something is wrong.

Whilst using what would seem to be a Twilight Zone style of setup, we get a much deeper exploration of a host of ideas such as, how we treat the disabled, what the difference is between reality and illusion, what really is a home?

A high Four Stars

The Long Eureka

Cover of August 1959 Science Fantasy with a more abstract illustration — Cover Art by Brian Lewis

Back to reprints, where the titular piece comes from August 1959’s Science Fantasy.

In 1820, Issac Reeves believes he has discovered the Elixir of Life. Unfortunately, no one believes him, in spite of the fact that he doesn’t seem to age. Convincing anyone else is going to take a very, very, very long time.

I have a soft spot for longitudinal tales of immortals, so this fitted right into my wheelhouse. Also, it manages to be both funny and tragic as Isaac struggles in vain to get anyone to believe him, with each successive generation having a new explanation for his claims.

Four Stars

Verbal Agreement

Black and White illustration showing a Vernan woman talking to an Earthman as he pulls a book from his bag — Illustration by Dick Francis, from Galaxy

Returning to Galaxy once more, with this story from September 1956.

Humphrey Spink is a poet in the 22nd Century, struggling to come up with something new to say. Seeking to broaden his horizons, he accepts a very curious job offer from Cosmic Developments Inc.: to try to find out how to purchase from the Vernans, a telepathic species that only have disdain for Earth’s technological progress.

This one of the many tales of the time trying to demonstrate an alien race totally different from our own, but it is a good example of the theme. Not a classic but enjoyable.

Four Stars

Trade-In

The other original tale in this collection is Sellings taking on robotics. When a newer robot model comes along to replace them, each robot has twenty-one days to find a new owner. The problem is, who wants an outdated creation?

This is a very affecting story giving real humanity to our creations. These armies of unemployed robots remind me of the great depression, where so many people needed work but could never find any. It brings the metaphor right back to its earliest roots and gives us a fascinating solution for Davie by the end.

Four Stars

Birthright

Black and white illustration with a humanoid against a starfield which also contains a pair of eyes and a rocket. — Illustration by Eddie Jones, from New Worlds

And finally, one of his first stories for New Worlds, from November 1956.

Farr finds himself in a white room tended by gods of metal. At first, he is hostile towards them but, eventually, he agrees to learn from them. Following his educational journey, we learn of his people’s origin and the purpose the gods have for him.

This is definitely a more experimental and controversial piece, with lines such as:

I anger again. God is evil god I hate god. I smash god face again.

At the same time, it touches on a number of thorny issues and delicious concepts. By the end I am not sure where I stood on any of the character’s choices, and it is all the better for it.

Five Stars

Hic jacet Arthurus, auctor quondam et auctor futurus*

So, there you have it. I hope I have shown he was a brilliant writer who has yet to have the full appreciation he deserves. Hopefully, like his legendary namesake, his reputation will rise in SF’s hour of need.

*Apologies for the bad Latin.

by Gideon Marcus

Ace Double H-103

The Age of Ruin, by John M. Faucette

Awakened from his sleep by a nightmare, Jahalazar of the purple hair yet hears the cry of his kind:

Help us, Jahalazar, your people are dying.

So, Jahalazar, a warrior without peer, armed with Chernak, the Throwing Sword, and Lil Chernak, the Slitting Knife, he bids farewell to his adoptive home. The crude realm of Clan Chevy in the bowl of Bomb Valley is like a paradise compared to the the lands Jahalazar must travel—first to Sea City, where the fish-headed people fight off the rubber-suited Zharks and their fearsome weapons that project flesh-devouring Diss. Thence over mountains. Further over higher mountains on the back of friendly, giant spiders. Across the endless plains on which two mechanized armies are locked in eternal conflict.

And on and on, past volcanic and mutated horrors, into domains ruled by sadists, to others dominated by distorted but good souls, and always with the ever-evolving Diss, now sentient and bent on world conquest, nipping at his heels.

Ever in the background: what caused the Age of Ruin, and can humanity rebound from it?

Sounds pretty cool, doesn't it? This is yet another "after the apocalypse" novels, of which Spawn of the Death machine and Omha Abides are fine examples from just this year. Unfortunately, The Age of Ruin is not up to their caliber.

Oh, the writing's not bad, in a sort of derivative, pulpy style. The monsters, scenery, and scenes are pretty interesting. The problem is there's nothing holding them all together. Each chapter is a self-contained story, and ultimately, Jahalazar is a sort of sight-seer. It's almost like Danté's Inferno.

The other issue is that Faucette, the author, throws out all of these monstrosities and weird human nations without any thought of logistics. Here we have the equivalent of Harry Harrison's Deathworld in terms of lethal environment, yet somehow humans are growing food and supporting realms. Given that Jahalazar rarely has the opportunity to sleep, I'm not sure how people manage to do the mundane things that running a civilization requires.

This is Faucette's second book, his first being another Ace Double half, Crown of Infinity, released earlier this year. I haven't read that one so I can't compare, but now I'm mildly tempted.

Three stars.

Code Duello, by Mack Reynolds

If you wanted to see more of Helen, the 26-year old acrobatic agent who goes undercover as an 8-year old (first seen in" Fiesta Brava"), then this is your chance. Code Duello is the latest in Mack Reynolds' saga of the United Planets, a future setting in which humanity has spread to the stars, and each planet has the freedom to pursue whichever socioeconomic path it chooses. Usually, it's something modeled on Earth history, and it's often pretty extreme. Mostly, it's a chance for Reynolds to show off his knowledge of history and politics and take real-life societies to absurd extremes.

It's also an opportunity for spy high jinks. There is a race of aliens who inhabit the "Dawnworlds". They don't communicate with humans, but they possess far more power than humanity, and they have been known to destroy perceived competitors if they get too threatening. This is why Earth has set up Section G, a supersecret spy organization whose job is to subtly ensure that all of the planets, despite ostensibly being free from interference, are never allowed to backslide technologically or productively. The idea is that, if we are to have a chance against the Dawnworlders, we must always be progressing rather than sitting on our laurels.

The planet of the week is Firenze, a world based on Florence (of course). Its salient features are that everyone likes to resolve conflicts by dueling (and everyone is quick to want to duel) and the supposedly democratic world is actually a rigidly controlled dictatorship. There is supposedly an "Engelist" underground, always on the verge of taking over, yet no one, not even the government officials, know who the Engelists are, what they stand for, or if any have even been seen in the wild.

The agents who have been sent to Firenze to investigate the situation (actually, explicitly to help the current government against the rebels…which seems like jumping the gun since obviously little was known about the Florentine government or its supposed insurgency) are as follows: Helen, as mentioned above; Dorn, a brilliant algae biologist who also happens to be the strongest man in the galaxy; Zorro, who is a demon with a whip; and Jerry, whose signature feature is his unbeatable luck. Once again, we have the setup for a Retief-style zany adventure, and it is mildly amusing…for a little while. Additional mystery is added when Zorro finds that the Florentines seem to have knowledge of the Dawnworlds, which was supposed to be a carefully controlled United Planets state secret.

But eventually, I got tired of Helen snorting/sneering/smirking through every line, the historical screeds that would flow incongruously from the mouths of various characters (always with relevance to, say, someone who had traveled the world circa 1960), and the slapstick nature of the book. I finished, because I wanted to know how the mysteries ended, but it was definitely a story written on autopilot.

Two and a half stars.

by Victoria Silverwolf

Young and Old

Two new novels deal with the elderly and the young. Other than that, they could not be more different.

The Sword Swallower, by Ron Goulart

The first novel from this comic writer is a greatly expanded version of a story that appeared in the November 1967 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.

Cover art by Gray Morrow.

The Noble Editor didn't care for the novelette when it first appeared. Will the long version be any better or worse?

Cover art by Seymour Chwast.

Ben Jolson is an interplanetary secret agent. As a member of the Chameleon Corps, he has the ability to change his appearance at will. He can look like anybody or anything. He's had a couple of other misadventures prior to this one.

Military officers have vanished. It seems that so-called pacifists are trying to prevent the Barnum system of planets from conquering Earth. Ben's job is to find out who's responsible and stop them.

(I guess this explains the otherwise obscure title. Making a sword disappear is kind of like making a soldier disappear, I suppose.)

At this point, I expected a satire of militarism, given the fact that the bad guys are pacifists and the good guys are attacking Earth with deadly force. It didn't quite work out that way.

Ben disguises himself as a very old man and sets out for a rejuvenation center on a planet that also serves as a gigantic cemetery. He gets mixed up with a female secret agent who is on his side, but who isn't part of the Chameleon Corps.

Following the clue he finds there, he changes into a young person and infiltrates a group of beatnik/hippie/folk singer types. From there, he goes to the huge cemetery to confront the guy behind the disappearances. Along the way he has to rescue the female agent.

That's the plot of the novelette, as well as the beginning and end of the novel. What's been added to increase the word length is Ben's involvement with a computer that acts as a crime boss. There's some other stuff, too.

The book didn't amuse me. If you think it's funny that Ben beats the computer at Monopoly, you may get a kick out of it.

It doesn't work as action/adventure/suspense, because Ben immediately gets out of trouble every time the bad guys get the upper hand, either by changing his shape or just by using his fists.

It fails as satire for a couple of reasons. The supposed pacifists turn out to be intent on arming Earth against the invaders. That undermines any Orwellian War is Peace theme. The portraits of the elderly and the young are just silly rather than biting.

The best I can say about the novel is that it's a very fast, easy read. The breakneck pace is similar to one of Keith Laumer's yarns.

Two stars.

They, by Marya Mannes

As far as I can tell, the only other work of fiction by this author is a novel that came out twenty years ago. (There may be some short stories of which I am not aware.) She's much better known for nonfiction, and has a reputation for being an acerbic social critic.

Cover art by Robert Hallock.

Her first novel was a ghost story, in which a dead woman looks back on her life. Maybe she'll publish another one in 1988. For now, we've got a dark vision of the near future.

Photograph of the author by Alex Gotfryd.

The fact that the cover depicts the author is our first hint that this isn't a typical science fiction novel. That seems more appropriate for a book of essays or some such. Her warm smile doesn't fit with the mood of the book either.

Not many years from now, people who are fifty years old are forced to retire and live in segregated communities, cut off from contact of any kind with younger folks. At the age of sixty, they have to pass a physical exam or else be forced to choose between suicide or execution by the government. At sixty-five, not even a clean bill of health can save them from mandatory death.

(Shades of Wild in the Streets, with its concentration camps for people over thirty-five years of age! Despite similar themes, that movie and this novel are quite different experiences.)

The narrator is one of five people living in a house by the sea. (As a special privilege, the government allows these creative types to dwell there instead of the usual ghetto for old folks. The house used to belong to the narrator and her husband, who killed himself when the youth movement seized power.)

Besides the narrator, who was a journalist, we have a painter, his model, a composer of classical music, and a writer of popular songs. The latter is also the narrator's current lover. The composer had a much younger wife who lived with the others for a while, but soon left to be with folks in her own age group.

I should also mention the narrator's dog, the composer's cat, and the bird that belongs to the painter and the model, because they are important characters as well.

Besides providing the reader with exposition, the narrator records the philosophical discussions and arguments among the five, often quoting them at length.

(The author does a fine job of making their voices distinct. The painter is angry and bitter, his speech full of profanity. The model speaks simply and emotionally. The composer is elegant and intellectual. The songwriter is witty and satiric.)

As you might be able to tell, much of the book consists of talk. The characters discuss what went wrong with society, and how it might be cured. Don't expect a lot of action.

An odd plot twist occurs late in the book. A beautiful, dark-skinned young man shows up, apparently washed up by the ocean. He doesn't speak, and his origin remains a mystery. The novel ends with a group decision by the five elders.

Besides dealing with the youth movement and attacking the way it disregards the past, the book also raises a lot of other issues. Art, music, politics, and education are discussed at length.

In addition to this rather dry material, there's some beautiful writing about the seashore, which the author obviously loves.

Not for all tastes, to be sure! I suspect a lot of readers will be bored to tears by all the talk, and find the unexplained arrival of the young man baffling.

Two stars.

by Cora Buhlert

A King on the Run: The Goblin Tower by L. Sprague De Camp

Do you remember thirteen-year-old Dutch singer Hein Simons a.k.a. Heintje, who is not only the breakout star of 1968 in West Germany, but whose sappy song "Mama" is the most successful single of the year?

Young Heintje followed up the success of "Mama" with a Christmas album entitled Weihnachten mit Heintje (Christmas with Heintje) where he sings traditional German Christmas carols. He also has a new single out called "Heidschi Bumbeidschi", which is even more painfully saccharine than "Mama", if that's possible. It is not a Christmas song, but a traditional Bohemian lullaby, which unfortunately does not stop West German radio stations from playing "Heidschi Bumbeidschi" in continuous rotation in the run-up to the holidays.

Hein Simons is clearly a very talented young man. I just hope that he eventually gets to sing songs that are more appropriate to a modern teenager.

Off With His Head

During the latest visit to my trusty import bookstore, I spotted a familiar name in the paperback spinner rack, namely L. Sprague De Camp, who has been editing and tinkering with the Conan reprints for Lancer Books. However, this time around, it wasn't another Conan book, but an original fantasy novel by L. Sprague De Camp called The Goblin Tower. The striking cover by J. Jones, probably the most talented new artist to emerge in recent times, drew me in and the blurb on the back sounded intriguing as well, so I picked the book up as a St. Nicholas Day present to myself. So let's see how L. Sprague De Camp does when he is not messing with Conan…

After a dedication to De Camp's fellow swashbuckler Lin Carter and a map of Novaria, the setting of the tale, The Goblin Tower certainly starts off with a bang or rather a chop, since Jorian, the current king of the city of Xylar, is about to be executed in front of the city gates. For in Xylar, it is custom to publicly behead the king every five years. Whoever catches the severed head shall become the new king, until it is his turn to mount the scaffold.

As methods of selecting a government go, this one is rather bloody and not particularly efficient, though it does prevent the establishment of tyranny, because every ruler comes with a built-in expiration date, as well as bloody wars of succession. Also kudos to L. Sprague De Camp for remembering that a monarchy is not necessarily hereditary; for example the Holy Roman Empire initially was not.

Jorian seems resigned to his fate and sanguine enough, even though he never desired to be king in the first place. Nor has he any intention to lose his head and so Jorian tricks the executioner and assembled populace of Xylar and escapes his own beheading with the aid of the wizard Karadur and his magical rope trick, which allows Jorian to climb away from the scaffold into what his people view as the afterlife.

This Never Happened to Conan

The "afterlife" in which Jorian briefly finds himself turns out to be our modern world. Worse, poor Jorian materialises in the grassy median strip of a highway and almost gets run over by a car – not that Jorian knows what a car is; he initially thinks it's a monster before realising that it is a vehicle. Jorian also meets a police officer in his brief sojourn in the modern world, though he mistakes the man for a carpenter, since Jorian has never seen a gun before, but finds that it looks like a carpenter's tool.

L. Sprague De Camp is a more humorous and satirical writer than Robert E. Howard was (though Howard could be very funny as well, e.g. in his Sailor Steve Costigan stories), which means that their styles don't always mesh well in the posthumous Conan collaborations. However, the brief interlude of our modern world seen through the eyes of a Barbarian king from a fantasy world plays to De Camp's strengths. The scene is hilarious, though De Camp can't resist adding some of his own opinions about the shortcomings of our world. It's also impossible to imagine anything like this ever happening to Conan.

A Quest and a Roadtrip

Alas, Jorian's sojourn in the modern world is short-lived, before he returns to his own world to meet up with Karadur. He also learns that the wizard didn't just save Jorian's life out of the goodness of his heart. No, there is a price. Karadur wants Jorian to help him retrieve a chest full of magical manuscripts called the Kist of Arvlen and bring it to a conclave of wizards at the titular Goblin Tower.

So Jorian and Karadur set off on their quest and now we learn the reason for the map at the beginning of the book, 'cause the pair will visit every single location marked thereon, have adventures and get entangled with beautiful women, vile wizards, and treacherous nobles, all the while pursued by Xylarian soldiers who want to recapture their errant king for his beheading. Along the way, Jorian rescues twelve slave girls from a brotherhood of retired executioners, once he realises that the executioners want to use them for practice to keep their skills sharp, and steals the Kist of Arvlen from the bedchamber of a shape-shifting serpent princess. He narrowly escapes being sacrificed to a jungle god and takes part in a heist to steal the statue of a frog god, replacing it with a real frog, much to the confusion of the worshippers.

Finally, Jorian and Karadur and the Kist of Arvlen make it to the conclave of wizards at the Goblin Tower, which turns out to be an edifice constructed from real goblins, who have been turned to stone by magic. What could possibly go wrong with holding a wizard symposium in such a place?

A Meandering Tale

Jorian and Karadur's adventures are a lot of fun, but they are also meandering and episodic to the point that every chapter seems more like a standalone short story than part of a greater whole. The fact that Jorian, who is more Sheherazade than Conan, frequently regales the people he meets by telling stories reinforces that episodic and picaresque feel of the novel.

However, this fault is not unique to The Goblin Tower, but appears to be a structural issue with the entire genre that Fritz Leiber dubbed "sword and sorcery". Born in the pages of Weird Tales almost forty years ago, sword and sorcery is a genre of short, fast adventures. Whether it's Robert E. Howard's tales of Conan the Cimmerian or Kull of Atlantis, Fritz Leiber's stories about Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser or the dreamlike adventures of C.L. Moore's Jirel of Joiry, all of these characters initially appeared in short stories and novellas, and modern heroes in the same mode such as Michael Moorcock's Elric of Melniboné, Roger Zelazny's Dilvish the Damned or John Jakes' Brak the Barbarian follow suit.

However, the genre landscape has changed since the heyday of the pulps and the dominant form – particularly for fantasy – is now the novel. Of course, there are sword and sorcery novels, from Robert E. Howard's The Hour of the Dragon a.k.a. Conan the Conqueror via Poul Anderson's The Broken Sword, Björn Nyberg's The Return of Conan a.k.a. Conan the Avenger, Michael Moorcock's Stormbringer and Lin Carter's A Wizard of Lemuria all the way to Fritz Leiber's Swords of Lankhmar, Joanna Russ' Picnic on Paradise and De Camp and Carter's Conan of the Isles. Having read and enjoyed several of these novels, it's notable that many of them tend to be very episodic and feel like fix-ups, even if they aren't. This makes sense in the case of The Hour of the Dragon, which was after all serialised in Weird Tales, or Swords of Lankhmar, the first part of which appeared as a standalone novella in Fantastic. But The Goblin Tower is a paperback original that was never serialised anywhere, so why is it structured like a serial?

Nonetheless, The Goblin Tower is a highly enjoyable novel, which allows De Camp to show off his humorous side, something he rarely has the opportunity to do with the Conan stories. Furthermore, the open ending is very much begging for a sequel and I for one will certainly pick it up.

Four stars

Rosenthal Christmas plate 1968 — This year's collectible Christmas plate by the china manufacturer Rosenthal depicts Bremen's market place in the snow – a rare sight indeed.

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[December 14, 1968] The Emperor's New Nehru

December 14, 2023 Gwyn Conaway 2 Comments

by Gwyn Conaway

The Emperor's New Clothes by Harry Clarke, inspired by the fashions of the Lucknow Court in present day India and Turkish fashions, a fitting comparison for this article.

A strange thing is occurring in American menswear this winter. A peculiar, most invisible thing. Invisible not because no one talks about it or buys it or advertises it… In fact, everyone from Playboy to J. C. Penny has brandished their bugle horn, lining up their bets behind this most fascinating fad.

No, it is invisible because although men are buying it, they simply aren’t wearing it.

It’s no surprise that men today yearn to move on from the somber three-piece suits and restrictive neckties that inspire discussions of Beau Brummel, Henry Poole, and two-hundred years of legacy. As the definition of American culture expands to include members of the Youth, Hippie, Women's Rights, and Civil Rights movements, just to name a few, young men have realized that they too can expand their own identities. Strangely enough, this ardent wish has manifested as the Nehru jacket.

Sammy Davis Jr in Fall 1968 wearing the new Nehru jacket trend with silk turtlenecks.

Named for Jahawarhal Nehru, the first prime minister of India, the Nehru jacket embodies many of the ideals of American youth. He was an anti-colonialist and social democrat determined to free his country from Western rule, a sentiment young people share against the backdrop of the Vietnam War. Like many other revolutionaries and thinkers from colonized cultures around the world, he chose to wear a traditional Indian coat called the achkan as a way of reclaiming India’s cultural autonomy by rejecting Western rules of business dress. Namely, the three-piece suit and the necktie.

Nehru met with Chancellor Konrad Adenauer and Deutsche Bank Chairman Hermann Josef Abs during a visit to West Germany in June 1956. He looks at ease next to the others with his top button undone, embodying a working class confidence that's defiantly attractive for a generation that distrusts establishment wealth and power, and searches for their own generational identity.

The Beatles wore Nehru jackets for their Shea Stadium concert in August of 1965, less than a year after the prime minister died in May of 1964. As we’ve discussed previously the article "Sgt. Pepper's Anti-War Military Rock Uniform," The Beatles have been an unstoppable force in shaping the fashions, and therefore the identities, of young people in the West through their mop haircuts, peacockish military designs, and bold color palettes. Others such as Sammy Davis Jr. and Lord Snowdon also donned the achkan-inspired look before Pierre Cardin introduced it to the American public last year.

The Beatles perform at Shea Stadium in matching putty Nehru jackets in 1965. Nehru's jackets were also grey and tawny colors. Sammy Davis Jr. often favors this utilitarian color palette in his Nehru jackets this winter.

The first James Bond film, Dr. No, mirrors the hero and villain through the Nehru jacket. Both jackets are made of silk, but Bond's walnut brown jacket is a rough-hewn shantung while the doctor's appears to be a granite silk suiting. The contrast of the fabrics and the fit of the collars both indicate a struggle between the people (Bond) and power (Dr. No).

From there, gossip and excitement over the look has spread like wildfire among experts and celebrities. Esquire went so far as to suggest that the Nehru would be the talk of the winter. But where has it gone? Why have we seen so few of them?

The rather complicated answer is comfort.

Inspired by the total rejection of Western ideals, the Nehru jacket is largely comfortable only to those who also heavily criticize the sum of our mainstream society. However, most consumers are average by default. As a result, such bold shifts are too adventuresome for their everyday lives. These kinds of trends, which often come with great excitement, are bright but brief flashes in the pan.

So what do these emperor’s robes suggest, if they’re bought then stuffed at the backs of closets and into the bottoms of trunks? Bold shifts that make it to retailers and mainstream entertainment, no matter how brief, are indicative of a great yearning in society. And the revolution is happening—it is just taking on a different form.

Rather than rehaul the rules of their workplaces and ceremonies with the Nehru jacket, men are turning to designers like Bill Blass and Ralph Lauren, who are introducing wider, bolder ties and more athletic country tweeds that speak to America’s love of working class leisurewear.

James Coburn in Bill Blass fashions as of November this year for Vogue. Though the fabrics are bold, the shapes are familiar, sporting collars and cuffs with an expeditionary style that calls back to Western expansionism. This, perhaps, is a much more comfortable avenue for change in mainstream menswear than inspirations such as the Nehru that wholly reject the Western lifestyle. Photographed by Henry Clarke.

I agree deeply with the critic Marshall McLuhan in his opinion that after centuries of division, the great tectonic shift of equality in the West is pushing men and women to connect culturally in a way we simply haven’t before. While women are chasing educational and societal inclusion, men are chasing freedom of expression.

We can see this clearly in the rising popularity of Blass and Lauren, for example. The necktie is softer and brighter, but still a necktie. The turtleneck is less structured but still paired with a blazer for daytime events. The Norfolk jacket is slimmer and more youthful, but still made of traditional houndstooth wool. Does this not mirror the advancements of women in our society? Women may attend universities, but they must still wear stockings and skirts. They may work in offices but must maintain a certain figure.

Having donned the uniforms of war and business for as long as women have worn their gowns and corsets, the suggestion that Western men are decolonizing their own fashions, through styles such as Nehru’s achkan, is a hopeful sign of the future. Even if permanent change is slow. Only time will tell if the Western or the Eastern collar will ultimately be the victor…

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Book, Fashion, music, politics, sports, Science / Space Race, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[December 12, 1968] Playing your fish right (The Alvin Submersible, New Job, Book Review)

December 12, 2023 Vicki Lucas Leave a comment

by Victoria Lucas

The Aquarium

Do you think the fish can hear us?

Today’s title is a result of having two reports and a book review to present to you, dear readers. There is no common theme except for me as narrator. I am inviting you to assist in performing a silent(?) version of a musical piece, “Tropical Fish Opera,” by Ramon Sender. I first experienced it at the Tape Music Center in San Francisco a few years ago. Picture three musicians sitting with their instruments around an aquarium, with another person standing at a microphone. The score is simple, and they have easily memorized it. The person at the microphone has a list of apparently random words that he or she recites as the musicians play. Each musician has been assigned a particular fish that must be followed as a guide for how to improvise in collaboration with the other musicians. The fish in this aquarium are swimming below, and I will act as a narrator who is trying to string words together in an understandable way, so that your silent(?) experience can have some meaning. Think of your voice as your instrument, although if you improvise drums or other means of making sound you can of course add to my silent voice.

The DSV Alvin

The Sinking of the Alvin submersible (Fish No. 1)

If you have never heard of the Alvin, you haven’t been keeping an eye on your fish. The Alvin is the most recent and innovative submersible paid for by the US Navy, assigned to the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. Commissioned in 1964, it was named after the mover and shaker who pushed for its creation, Allyn Vine. The Alvin is essentially a large steel sphere (holds 3 people) with plexiglass windows, using syntactic foam for flotation, with weights, hung with cameras, sample containers, and a mechanical arm, and certified for dives of 6,000 feet.

On October 16 the Alvin made an unscheduled dive to almost 5,000 feet, from which it has not been recovered. Yet. It seems the hatch was still open when the chains holding its cradle snapped, and the submersible slid down its usual course into the ocean, with the pilot and two observers leaving their workday lunch behind in the sphere as they scrambled to safety. Water poured into the hatch, and the Alvin quickly sank to almost 5,000 feet as the crew of its tender, Lulu, threw everything that would float overboard to try to mark the spot. Although the Navy bought the argument that Woods Hole (WHOI) made that no recovery had yet been made from that depth, and backed the experiment of finding and raising the submersible, storms have so far prevented the consummation of the plan. Stay tuned to this story. I think they will succeed.

New Digs, New Job (Fish No. 2)

Ah, a California winter!

I’m also the performer keeping my eye on this fish. My husband Mel and I moved from Fortuna, California, where we had rented a house, to the non-metropolis of Rio Dell nearby, pooling our money to buy a piece of land. We have fruit trees, a walnut tree, and a small garden, and interesting phenomena like different weather visible from windows on every side of the house except one. I’m happy there are no windows on the 4th side, because I only know 3 general kinds of weather: rain (including fog, drizzle, etc.), snow (including sleet), and sun. I don’t want to know about that 4th side. We also have a neighbor, a teenager, who received our permission to hunt deer in our backyard with a bow and arrow. We can sometimes see him up in the walnut tree, waiting patiently. He lets us know when he will be hunting. Just in case he mistakes one of us for a deer. In the meantime, both of us are temporary workers for the County of Humboldt, Mel at the airport, and me in different office gigs. Sometimes we wave to each other as he drives home in the morning in the Jeep from his shift at the airport, at the same time I’m leaving in our car to start my day wherever the County sends me. Wish us luck. We’ll need it as we head into winter weather and knee-deep mud.

Book Review: The Unholy City (and) The Magician Out of Manchuria (Fish no. 3)

Great book!

This is your fabulous fish. I think you will find it delish. I do. Charles Finney (author of The Circus of Dr. Lao) saw the first publication of The Unholy City, in 1937 but this paperback edition (Pyramid Books) published last January combines that irreverent and self-referential story with the delightful Magician Out of Manchuria, which is my favorite of the writings of this Arizona Daily Star editor. Finney is not as prolific as some authors, although he has written many short stories and a couple of articles published in magazines aside from the occasional book. However, when away from his desk at the Tucson newspaper, he has the opportunity to take as few words as possible and place them carefully to weave weird tales, and he seizes that opportunity with both hands. These two yarns are very different from one another, and The Unholy City is not to everyone’s taste, dealing cynically not just with excesses of the consumer society, but (as the “plot demands”) with poor impulse control involving large “zellums of szelack” that seem to have an intoxicating influence. Nevertheless, I find the “Magician” with his manipulative ways, along with the woman he discovers and enhances, and his poor young servant who keeps (literally) losing his head, to be utterly irresistible. Only one of the two has a happy ending. (Guess which one.) I award this fish 5 stars out of 5.

Applause?

I once heard one musician say to another during a lecture and demonstration of the original Opera, “You’re not playing your fish right.” So if you and I were playing our fish right (right for you, that is), perhaps you enjoyed our little experiment. I hope you did.

There will be further adventures of Mel and Vicki. Where will they keep their Jeep while they wade through the mud to their home in the mountains? Will Vicki be able to work in an office where the regular secretary (on vacation) has locked up all her work? Will Mel be able to get along with his temporary boss as the airport enters a study of how it copes with the fog that envelops it every morning?

Stay tuned for the next episode!

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[December 10, 1968] Back and forth (January 1969 Galaxy)

December 10, 2023 Gideon Marcus 4 Comments

by Gideon Marcus

Return to sender

The French economy has been rocky ever since the wave of strikes and protests in May. As a result, France has been getting more and more goods from its industrial neighbor, West Germany. The problem is France has to buy German goods in francs, which means that, more and more, francs are ending up in West German hands. Franc reserves, at $6.9 billion in April 1968, are now down to $4 billion and plummeting.

To forestall a devaluation of the franc (reducing its value, thus making imports more expensive and exports more affordable to other nations, but playing hell with international economic relations in the process), DeGaulle's government is evaluating all sorts of Hail Mary options to stabilize the economy. One that was rejected was the West German offer to invest directly in the French economy, which would leave them too in control of French assets (including the dwindling franc supply!) A proposal that was adopted was an increase in vehicle fuel costs; I gather fuel production is nationalized, and the government can't afford to sell it so cheaply.

But a sadder development involves the French post office-letters written to Santa Claus will no longer be answered. Previously, kids who wrote to St. Nick got a colorful postcard with a message of Christmas cheer. A West German offer to donate Elven postal braceros has been rejected.

Merry Christmas, indeed. Maybe DeGaulle should convert to Judaism. Then he can pray a great miracle will happen in Paris for Hannukah, and the franc reserve will last eight years instead of one…

Flickering candles

Here in the good old U.S. of A., we don't have such economic woes (though inflation is kicking in). All I have to worry about is whether the first Galaxy of the year is any good. In other words, has the value of the magazine been devalued? Let's find out!

by Gray Morrow

Foeman, Where Do You Flee?, by Ben Bova

On Titan, the alien machines (first seen six years ago in "The Towers of Titan") rumble on, their purpose unknown, as they have for millennia. Humanity, terrified of their implications, begins searching the stars for their creator. And so, one ship, the Carl Sagan, makes the 15 year trip to Sirius A-2, a barren but Earthlike world orbiting the blazing blue sun.

Sid Lee, an anthropologist onboard, is convinced that Earth once warred with the aliens who build the machines of Titan, and that humans lost, reverting to savagery. The crew of the Sagan are surprised not only to find a group of intelligent beings on the alien world, but that they are indistinguishable from Homo Sapiens Sapiens. Lee volunteers to live among them, hiding his extraterrestrial origin, to learn the truth of the Sirians, and how they fit into the ancient, hypothetical war.

by Reese

There's a lot to like about this piece, especially the methodical, painfully slow, expedition protocols. The crew wear suits when they go outside. Extreme caution is taken in scouting. It takes months before Lee is even allowed to infilitrate the aliens.

Bova reminds me a bit of Niven in his weaving together hard science fiction and a compelling story. However, the author does not have Niven's mastery of the craft, and the story feels a bit clunky. Moreover, the "revelations" of the tale are telegraphed, and the red herrings Bova throws in to keep the mystery going are not convincing.

I enjoyed the story, but it's difficult to decide if it's a high 3 or a low 4. I think I will go with the latter because it's clear this novella is only part of a bigger story, one that looks like it will be fascinating to read.

The Thing-of-the-Month Clubs, by John Brunner

In what looks like the final entry in the Galactic Consumer Report series, the editor of the fictional magazine reviews various [THING]-of-the-Month Clubs. Specifically, the editor is looking for high cost and ephemeral items for worlds with >100% income tax.

Droll. Forgettable. Three stars, I guess.

Parimutuel Planet, by James Tiptree, Jr.

by Blakely

A fellow named Christmas runs the premier racing planet in the galaxy: Raceworld! He deals with a number of headaches including various attempts to fix the games by a number of different species. The thing reads breezily, shallowly, in a style I was sure I'd read before…and sure enough, looking through back reviews, I found the story I was thinking of ("Birth of a Salesman") was, indeed, written by one James Tiptree Jr.

I found this story even less compelling. One star.

Dunderbird, by Harlan Ellison and Keith Laumer

by Jack Gaughan

I'm not sure how Harlan Ellison ends up bylining with so many different authors these days: Sheckley, Delany, and now Laumer.

The premise: a giant pteranodon falls out of the sky onto the streets of New York, crushing 83 people under its unnaturally heavy corpse. The rest of the story is a detailing of the many odd characters who come across the flying lizard and their reactions to it.

Pointless and unfunny, I have to wonder if Ellison attaches his name to things just to get them published for friends. It's not doing the brand any favors.

One star.

For Your Information: The Written Word, by Willy Ley

This is a nice piece on the history of writing materials (which is, by definition, the history of history) from Greek times to modern day.

Ley wraps up with a primer on how to send and decode interstellar messages, which I quite enjoyed.

Interestingly, though he talks about microfiche and microfilm, he does not mention the possibility of more-or-less permanent documents within the memory banks of computers. I know it may seem frivolous to store the written word on such expensive media as the Direct Access Storage Devices (DASD) used by IBM 360 computers, but in fact, such is being done as we speak. I have used time share systems to send frivolous messages to others on home-grown "mail" systems, and also created data sets that were text files, both as memos and as "documents" for other users to read. And, of course, there are data sets that are programs that, once loaded into permanent memory via punch card or teletype, are there to stay. At least until an electrical pulse fries the whole thing.

Of course, that's a pretty rarefied use, but it's still interesting and relevant for those in the biz.

Anyway, four stars.

The Organleggers, by Larry Niven

by Jack Gaughan

Gil Hamilton, an agent of the the United Nations police force —Amalgamated Regional Militias (ARM)—is called regarding a death. Not because he's a cop, but because he's next of kin of the deceased, a Belter named Owen Jennison. The spaceman's demise looks like a particularly elaborate suicide: he is in a chair hooked up to a device that uses electric current to stimulate the pleasure center of one's brain, and he apparently starved, quite happily, to death.

But as Gil puts the pieces together, he comes to the conclusion that Jennison must have been murdered. Which means there's a murderer. Which means there are clues. And since it's Niven's Earth in the 22nd Century, organleggers are probably involved.

Did I mention that Gil also has psychic powers? He has a third, telekinetic arm, which comes in very handy. It's also the first time that I've seen this particular idea. It breathes new life into a hoary subject.

As does all of the story, honestly. Niven is simply a master of organically conveying information, letting you live in his universe, absorbing details as they become pertinent. There's nothing of the New Wave to his work save that his writing is qualitatively different from what we saw in prior eras.

He's also written a gripping fusion of the science fiction and detective genres, perhaps the best yet.

Five stars.

Welcome Centaurians, by Ted Thomas

Aliens arrive from Proxima Centauri. Though they make contact with many of Earth's nations while cautiously assaying us from orbit, their captain forms a bond with Colonel Lee Nessing of NORAD. After a long conversation, the aliens agree to land in New York, whereupon friendly relations are established.

This is a cute, nothing story whose charm comes mostly from the chummy relationship between Lee and "Mat", the Proximan that looks like a floor rug. My biggest issue is the gimmick ending, in which it is revealed that ancient Proximans caused the death of the dinosaurs by seeding the Earth with food animals—which turned out to be early mammals.

The problem: mammals evolved from reptiles 200 million years ago. That event is well documented in the fossil record and is referenced in my copy of The Meaning of Evolution (1949) by George Gaylord Simpson. This sort of basic evolutionary mistake seems pretty common in science fiction, where writers try to ascribe extraterrestrial origin to obviously terrestrial creatures (humans are the most frequent example).

Three stars.

Value for money

If there's anything the January 1969 issue of Galaxy proves, it's that even good money can't guarantee a return. Editor Fred Pohl paid 4 cents a word for all of the pieces in this issue, and to his credit, more than half the words are in four/five star pieces. On the other hand, two of the stories are mediocre, and two are absolutely awful. It's like Pohl got his tales from a mystery bag and had to take what he got, good or bad.

Well, the superior stuff would fill an ordinary sized magazine, so I shan't complain. Read the Bova, the Ley, and the Niven. Then put the issue under your tree for others to discover Christmas morning…

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[December 6, 1968] Wince of an audience (Star Trek: "Wink of an Eye")

December 6, 2023 Janice L. Newman 2 Comments

by Janice L. Newman

Star Trek has occasionally been dabbling in New Wave-style science fiction in the third season, but what we got last week was an episode based on solid traditional SF concepts. But if you're going to write a hard-SF story, you need to make sure the science backs it up. When the story you write isn’t even internally consistent—when it doesn’t play by its own rules—it’s not good storytelling and it’s not good SF.

The story opens with Kirk and a team investigating a distress signal. Strangely enough, even when they stand right where the signal is coming from, there’s no sign of the distressed parties. Even more strangely, one of the team vanishes before their eyes after sampling the local water.

A victim of post-production editing…

After they return to the ship, the Enterprise suffers a series of mysterious malfunctions, each corrected almost immediately, but nevertheless concerning. This sequence isn’t bad, as it builds the mystery of what’s going on. By the time Captain Kirk concludes, “Something has invaded the ship,” we are fully ready to agree. When Kirk and Spock discover that an alien device has been connected to the ship’s life support system, they have tangible proof of the invasion, though they cannot touch, disconnect, or destroy the device.

"Have these been put in all of the restrooms, Spock?"

Kirk returns to the bridge. He touches his mouth as though puzzled, and when he isn’t looking, his coffee bubbles for a moment. He takes a sip and everything and everyone around him seems to slow to a stop. Suddenly he’s on the bridge with a bunch of statues—and a beautiful woman who wasn’t there before.

"Again with the kissing!"

This is where the episode begins to fall apart. Deela, the woman, explains to Kirk that he’s been ‘accelerated’. She and her fellow Scalosians were exposed to a substance that caused them to live at a speeded up rate relative to humans. They’re so fast that humans can’t see them at all, and can only perceive them as an insect-like buzzing.

Kirk tries to shoot her with a phaser and she casually steps out of the way of the slow-moving beam. Wait, don’t phaser beams move at the speed of light? Does this mean that she’s moving faster than the speed of light? There are quite a few reasons that shouldn’t and can’t work. For one, the Scalosians wouldn’t be perceptible as a high-pitched whine. Wouldn’t they be followed by sonic booms everywhere they moved? How would they even touch anything without crushing it?

Well, let’s set that aside. Maybe phaser beams don’t actually travel at the speed of light. Maybe they fire some glowing plasma substance.

"Missed me! Now you have to kiss me!"

Moving on, Deela tells Kirk that he will soon grow docile and happy with the situation. When they encounter the missing crewman, Compton, this appears to be true. Compton declares that Kirk is no longer his commander and that he’s working for the Scalosians now.

"That's mutiny, Mister!" "Yes sir. It is." "NOT ON MY SHIP!"

This effect of the acceleration is never explained. Perhaps rather than docile and accepting, the people who have been captured and enslaved become hopeless and filled with despair. Not only are those who’ve been accelerated prone to die after the slightest injury—as we see when Compton dies and his body ages rapidly—but after being held by the Scalosians for a time they would realize that their friends and family must be aging and dying without them.

But no such poignant explanation is forthcoming.

Instead Deela details a horrific plan that will turn Captain Kirk into breeding stock and keep the rest of the crew of the Enterprise in suspended animation until such time as they will be used as breeding stock as well (at least, the men will. It’s not clear what will happen to the female crewmembers).

As all this is going on, the crew begin working to discover what happened to Captain Kirk, correctly deducing that it had something to do with the coffee he drank.

"Some sort of Benzedrine derivative is indicated…"

Kirk manages to leave an explanatory message tape in the medical lab. Then, stalling for time, he sabotages the transporter and seduces Deela (or perhaps more accurately, agrees to be seduced by her). To show the passage of time and, er, other activities, Kirk is shown pulling his boots on afterward. Quite suggestive for television!

"Sure glad to get that rock out of my shoe!"

Meanwhile Spock figures out what the ‘whine’ they keep hearing is by speeding up the message tape of the distress call until the images are a blur and the sound nothing but a high-pitched buzz. McCoy discovers Kirk’s message tape and brings it to the bridge where the bridge crew watch it together.

Rael, Deela’s subordinate, finds her with Kirk and takes a swing at the captain. Deela stuns him before he can hurt Kirk. Up until this point her behavior has come across as childish, but she delivers the next lines with a maturity and a gravity that earn the episode a whole extra star from me:

I don't care what your feelings are. I don't want to know that aspect of it. What I do is necessary, and you have no right to question it. Allow me the dignity of liking the man I select.

"And grow up, or I'll shoot you again."

After Rael leaves, Kirk pretends to be docile, then manages to steal Deela’s weapon.

In the lab, Spock and McCoy have apparently been working together amicably to craft a ‘cure’ for the acceleration—something Deela claimed was impossible. (Maybe she was lying? McCoy had to have come up with it incredibly quickly given the time scale of this episode.) Once Spock is relatively sure the cure will work, he drinks the Scalosian water and accelerates himself.

Kirk and Spock encounter each other on the way to the Life Support section of the ship. It’s a nice moment, as neither of them seem surprised. Together they destroy the unit that would have turned the Enterprise into a giant deep freeze. Then they send the Scalosians back to their planet, presumably soon to die out as a race, or at least, so Deela thinks. Once the invaders are safely off the ship, Kirk drinks the ‘cure’, which fortunately works. Spock stays accelerated a little longer in order to effect repairs and fix all the things the Scalosians changed. The bridge crew reacts with startlement and awe as their equipment almost seems to magically repair itself.

"Did Spock take care of my leaky faucet, too?"

After Spock returns to normal time, Uhura accidentally presses the button to display the distress call they received. Kirk bids goodbye to the Deela on the screen.

Written out like this, it sounds like an exciting episode. The problem was, the time scale never quite lined up, either visually or in terms of plot. His crew were completely frozen from Kirk’s perspective. Scotty is perpetually in the doorway of the transporter room across multiple scenes, apparently not having moved at all. (This could have been solved by having him standing behind the console, as though waiting for orders. By having him perpetually in transit, it ruined the illusion entirely.) Even if we arbitrarily say that one minute passes in normal time for each hour that passes for the Scalosians (a 1:60 ratio), either the crew had to have worked very, very fast or the Scalosians spent a lot more time on the ship than was shown or implied. Even if all of the bridge scenes, receiving Kirk’s message, and the development of the ‘cure’ took place over the course of only a single hour, that’s still 60 hours, or two and a half days, of accelerated time.

In the end, we're left with more questions than answers: Why didn't the transporter detect an anomaly when it beamed up at least four extra people (Deela, Rael, Compton, and the girl Compton fell for)? How did the Scalosians time the sending of their distress call such that they weren't years older by the time the Enterprise received and responded to it?

A lot of the same plot effects could have been accomplished by simply having the Scalosians as ‘out of phase’ with our reality, able to affect it but not be affected by it. This would have allowed things like Kirk and Spock getting shoved away from the deep freeze device without the audience asking, “why didn’t they smash into the wall?” (Think of shoving a person standing still while you’re on a speeding car and you’ll see what I mean.)

I could say even more about why the episode just doesn’t quite work, but I need to leave some room for my fellow contributors.

2 stars.

By Any Other Name

by Gideon Marcus

A lot of folks have complained about the reusing of plots this season. That doesn't really bother me as often the "remakes" are better than the originals (viz. "…and the Children Shall Lead" vs. "Miri"; "Day of the Dove" vs. "Wolf in the Fold.") This time around, we've got a remake of "By Any Other Name", which wasn't terrific to begin with, and this one does not do the theme justice.

Sure, there are cosmetic differences, but ultimately, it boils down to five people (three men and two women, one of them a blonde who romances Kirk). We have jealousy between the blonde and the head man. We have a takeover of the Enterprise, and I think there was an indestructible gizmo in "By Any Other Name", too. Maybe the episodes are just so similar that I'm conflating them. We have the same empty hallways, but the dodecahedronizer was a much more chilling method of accomplishing that than time shift. And really, the corridors should have been filled with frozen crew that Kirk and the Scalosians had to dodge around.

The tape Uhura was tracking must have been about a month long for it to be going all the way from discovery through the beam down of the landing party. How she couldn't tell it was a recording is beyond me and a bit insulting.

There's plenty of nonsense in this episode, which my colleagues are covering, but the worst is that, for a story that deals with super-speed, it sure moves awfully slow. When Kirk started narrating what we'd just learned five minutes before, taking about five minutes to do it (I recognize the narrative necessity, but that scene could have been three seconds long), I began pounding the floor in frustration.

"Captain's Log, supplemental: in lieu of a formal report, I will simply read the script again from the beginning… 'These are the voyages of the…'"

I did enjoy two scenes, however. When Deela confronts Kirk after the latter has broken the Transporter, Shatner plays it cute and coy, which was a lot of fun. Also (as with Janice), when Deela tells Rael to stop being a prude and ordering her around; she's a grown woman, a queen no less, and she at least should get the privilege of liking the person she chooses for breeding stock.

Other than that, though, the direction is pretty feeble. Nimoy speaks too loudly and woodenly, particularly in the first scene. Shatner hams it up for the first time this season (except for the other Jud Taylor story, "The Paradise Syndrome". Everyone else is given precious little to do, particularly Scotty, who gets to stand in a doorway for three days.

Two stars.

Blink a few times—it'll still be there

by Lorelei Marcus

Rarely does an episode start with so much promise and then fails to deliver so badly. "Wink of an Eye" wastes no time jumping into action, a new technique of Season 3 episodes I'm enjoying a lot, and it continues at a breakneck speed. Some of the setup information is thrown around so fast, it really is blink and you'll miss it. Respite comes at the point of beam-back to the Enterprise, which would be fine, except, like the incessant buzzing in the crew's ears, it never ends.

I don't mind an episode that likes to take its time, but this show just drags on and on. I think partly it's a psychological thing: the time dilation causing the characters to move through time slowly also makes us perceive the slow moments of the show more acutely. The length of an exchange between Kirk and Deela is quite exacerbated when Scotty is stuck stock-still in the background. How are we supposed to expect the plot to move when the characters themselves can't?

Madame Toussaud would like her Doohan back.

This episode also suffers from a bit of the Land of the Giants syndrome, where the special effects take precedence over every other aspect, to the overall detriment of the show. I suspect some of the stiff, uninteresting staging and poor pacing are symptoms of trying to stimulate the time dilation. Scenes could not easily be shot on a rolling camera or from multiple angles for fear of slowed crewmen jumping around to slightly different spots in editing. Even with all the care, the effect is still internally inconsistent as anyone's speed is relative to whichever scene they're in.

I think I've also given director Jud Taylor too much credit. Between "Paradise Syndrome" and "Wink", it's clear he has trouble reining in Shatner's eccentricities, and he consistently has difficulty with pacing. I suspect "Wink" would have been a much more compelling episode with someone like Ralph Senensky directing it. Imagine a rolling camera leading Kirk as he marches briskly through the hall, crewmen stock-still in comparison all around him. Then, more static, but creatively staged dialogy shots, where Kirk always remains in front of a slow-moving crewman who is doing the same three motions such that, in post, the actions are seamless and consistent. I think with a little more vision, it could have worked. [They actually do this in the scenes on the bridge and in the confrontation with Compton, but the corridor walk would have quite effective, similar to what they did in "By Any Other Name" (ed)]

Sadly, this is the version we received.

Two stars.

Brief Lives

by Joe Reid

“Wink of an Eye” is the latest episode of Star Trek from the good people at NBC. I have a few thoughts on what I just witnessed, and I feel it is best this week to lay my cards on the table before I explain how I arrived at my conclusions. First, it was intelligently written up to the point that intelligence became inconvenient to the narrative. It had intelligent characters up to the point that the desired conclusion was endangered. Lastly, it had a credible threat that lost all credibility when examined. If I were to provide a one sentence summary for this entry, it would be “Pride, lust, and expedience bring ruin”.

The episode started with a mystery. Kirk, McCoy, and Spock, along with some others are on an uninhabited alien world, where they expected to find people who were in distress and in need of help. There were no people to be found, but plenty of invisible insects. The insects turned out to be the baddies of the week: a small group of people that move so fast that they are invisible to those moving at normal speeds. After capturing and converting a sole crewman to their side, the beautiful queen of the aliens, Deela, captured Kirk because she was enamored with him. Speeding him up to her own speed, she traps him in her accelerated world while she and her countrymen carry out a plot against the crew.

Also, who could compete with these stylish outfits?

At the beginning this plot and the thinking behind it seemed smart and inscrutable. How in the world could Spock and the others defeat an enemy that moved a hundred times faster than them? As the episode progressed the narrative kept switching back and forth between the people moving at accelerated speed and the people moving at normal speed, and that is where the problem lay. An advanced alien race moving so fast that they rendered normal people as statues would always have the advantage. Spock and crew would never be able to mount a defense against a threat from them. The notion that the crew of the Enterprise would be able to fight back against such a threat, to provide a way for the good guys to win, weakened the story.

My second thought was regarding Deela and her people. She was prideful and calculating. She had every right to be. Deela possessed an overwhelming advantage over the crew, and she reveled in it. She even allowed Kirk to shoot at her with his phaser to prove the utter futility of his situation. She loves that Kirk, fighting as he did, could not overcome her well-thought-out plan. A plan which was short circuited not only by the aforementioned plot device which allowed the crew to fight back against a much faster enemy, but also by Deela’s lust and desire for Kirk. She kissed him repeatedly before he even started moving at her speed and kissed him passionately at their first meeting. Her irrational feelings for Kirk allowed him to manipulate and sabotage her plans to the degree that it allowed the crew the months of subjective time needed to mount a defense against them.

Lastly, there was the credible threat posed by Deela to the crew: that they would be frozen to be used at human chattel for the aliens when needed. The device that was installed on the Enterprise was unable to be touched when defended in person by the aliens but was easily blown to smithereens when Kirk and Spock shot it with their space guns. This third and final failure of this story to save the narrative left a story that started so strong and intelligent as a sad, weak, and uninspired tale turning Deela from a prideful and powerful queen to a horny teen that let a boy trick her into a tryst that ultimately defeated her people.

At the end of the day, the crew should never have been able to outrun an enemy moving a hundred times their speed. Also, the aliens should have lived such brief lives that they would have never met in the first place.

Two stars

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[December 4, 1968] Sign Me Up (January 1969 Amazing)

December 4, 2023 John Boston 2 Comments

by John Boston

In this January's Amazing, on page 138, there is an editorial—A Word from the Editor, it says, bylined Barry N. Malzberg—which suggests a different direction (or maybe I should just say “a direction”) for this magazine. First is some news. There will be no letter column; Malzberg would rather use the space for a story. Second, “the reprint policy of these magazines will continue for the foreseeable future,” per the publisher, but “A large and increasing percentage of space however will be used for new stories.”

by Johnny Bruck

Pointedly, the editor adds, “it is my contention that the majority of modern magazine science-fiction is ill-written, ill-characterized, ill-conceived and so excruciatingly dull as to make me question the ability of the writers to stay awake during its composition, much less the readers during its absorption. Tied to an older tradition and nailed down stylistically to the worst hack cliches of three decades past, science-fiction has only within the past five or six years begun to emerge from its category trap only because certain intelligent and dedicated people have had the courage to wreck it so that it could crawl free. . . . I propose that within its editorial limits and budget, Amazing and Fantastic will do what they can to assist this rebirth—one would rather call it transmutation—of the category and we will try to be hospitable to a kind of story which is still having difficulty finding publication in this country.”

Sounds good to me! This brave manifesto is only slightly undermined by the familiar production chaos of the magazine. It is not acknowledged on the table of contents, and does not appear in the usual place for an editorial, at the beginning of the magazine. Instead, there appears a piece labelled Editorial by Robert Silverberg, S-F and Escape Literature, which (though touted as “NEW” on the cover) actually dates from six years ago, when it appeared as a guest editorial in the August 1962 issue of the British New Worlds. Silverberg is also listed as Associate Editor.

Silverberg’s piece briskly disposes of the “escapist” critique of SF, pointing out that all literature is escape literature; it’s just a matter of where you’re escaping, and how well the escape is executed. “The human organism, if it is to grow and prosper, needs change, refreshment, periodic escape.”

The other non-fiction in the issue includes another Leon Stover “Science of Man” article (see below). There is the by-now-usual book review column, attributed to James Blish on the contents page, with reviews by his pseudonym William Atheling, Jr. (mixed feelings about Clarke’s 2001 novelization, praise for D.G. Compton and Alexei Panshin); by Panshin (praise for R.A. Lafferty); and by editor Malzberg (praise for the new edition of Damon Knight’s In Search of Wonder, mixed feelings about Alva Rogers’s fan tribute A Requiem for Astounding). There is also a movie review, by Lawrence Janifer, of Rosemary’s Baby; he finds it well done but dull, and—in an unexpected juxtaposition—quotes Virginia Woolf: “But how if life should refuse to reside there?”

We All Died at Breakaway Station, by Richard C. Meredith

by Dan Adkins

The major piece of new fiction is Richard C. Meredith’s We All Died at Breakaway Station, first part of a two-part serial. As usual I will read and review it when it’s complete; a quick rummage reveals it’s a space war story whose plot would probably have been right at home in Planet Stories, but which looks much grimmer than the pulps allowed.

Temple of Sorrow, by Dean R. Koontz

Dean R. Koontz’s novelet Temple of Sorrow is a breezily parodic procession of stock genre elements—the protagonist with a mission (“My name is Mandarin. Felix Mandarin.”—from “International,” we later learn), accompanied by Theseus, his Mutie bodyguard (actually a bear, “developed” in the Artificial Wombs), to pierce the veil of a powerful religious cult (with overtones of the one in Heinlein’s “—If This Goes On,” such as the omnipresence of Naked Angels, female of course). In this post-nuclear war world, the Temple of the Form predicts the Second Coming of the Form (the mushroom cloud), and it seems is bent on bringing it about by stealing the world’s last atom bomb.

by Jeff Jones

Felix is caught and reduced to near-mindless servitude, but his conditioning is broken by his realization of the Bishop’s sadistic plans for the Angel who has caught Felix’s fancy. Rejoined by Theseus, who had fled to the wilderness but returned just in time, Felix and the Angel Jacinda fight their way to the Temple’s Innermost Ring (cameo appearance by a giant spider along the way). And there’s super-science! Felix figures out that the Innermost Rings of all the many Temples worldwide are interdimensionally connected, so if the Temple bigs can set off a bomb in one Ring, the explosion will be replicated in all the others! Conservation of energy be damned.

So they hasten from Ring to Ring, find the bomb, and disarm it. “Any child could disarm an A-bomb if he has read his history and had an instructor in P.O.D. who allowed him to practice live on dummies.” Felix proposes to the Angel Jacinda. Theseus has somehow gained human intelligence during the interdimensional trek. Exit, wisecracking. Or, as the editor put it: “Tied to an older tradition and nailed down stylistically to the worst hack cliches of three decades past . . . .” Good sarcastic fun. Three stars.

How It Ended, by David R. Bunch

And here is the writer half the readership has long seemed to hate, in his second consecutive issue—David R. Bunch. Editor Malzberg says, “I think that Bunch is one of the twenty or thirty best writers of the short-story in English.” I might pick a slightly higher number, but I’m happy he is again welcome here. But this one is called How It Ended—“it” being Moderan, scene of a procession of stories about the Strongholders, their new-metal enhancements held together by the flesh-strips that are all that remain of their human bodies, fighting their endless wars in splendid isolation from each other. Can it really be the end? Time will tell whether Bunch can resist returning to the scene.

But to the matter at hand: during the Summer Truces following the Spring Wars, someone looses a wump-bomb, which is strong stuff indeed. This sets off a new war which is only ended when the narrator releases the GRANDY WUMP (sic), which puts an end to Moderan entirely. This is his confession, rendered onto a tape which may or may not ever be listened to, complete with his litany of self-justification. The inexorable logic leading to complete destruction may be familiar to those who frequent newspapers and government briefing papers. It’s Bunch as usual and you either like it or you don’t. I mostly do, with qualifications, but this one goes on a little too long for my taste. Three stars.

Confidence Trick, by John Wyndham

by Henry Sharp

Moving to the reprints, John Wyndham is here with Confidence Trick (from Fantastic, July-August 1953), about some people going home on a commuter train who discover that it is the train to Hell. They escape their fate only through the loudly expressed disbelief of one abrasive young man, after which the whole illusion falls apart. It is suggested that social institutions such as the banking system are not too different from religions in their reliance on unquestioning faith. It’s smoothly written but becomes a bit heavy-handedly didactic after its comic beginning. Two stars.

Dream of Victory, by Algis Budrys

In Algis Budrys’s Dream of Victory (Amazing, August/September 1953)—a “complete short novel” at 26 large-print pages—a war has left the world devastated and depopulated. Androids were developed to provide a work force. They are apparently human in all respects except for standardization of features (which they can pay to have fixed), and they can’t reproduce. Fuoss, an android, is not happy about this, or about the fact that there seems to be growing discrimination against androids; he can get jobs but somehow always loses them, and his successful android lawyer friend tells him the creation of androids has now stopped.

by Ed Emshwiller

Fuoss has a recurring dream about a woman bearing his child. He finds his situation so frustrating that he acts in progressively more self-destructive ways, driving away his android wife, in part because he flaunts his affair with a human woman. Then he loses his latest job, drinks a lot, and his girlfriend throws him out. When he comes back and finds out she has taken up with somebody else, he smashes a whiskey bottle and cuts her throat after she dismisses his delusional babble that she will have his child. His lawyer friend (ex-friend by now) visits him in jail and chastises him for the harm he has done to the android cause. “ ‘Is she dead?’ he asked hopefully.”

I’m not sure what to make of this story. Budrys has commented on it in the introduction to his second collection, Budrys’ [sic] Inferno (UK edition retitled The Furious Future): “Dream of Victory is the first novelette I ever wrote. . . . Dream of Victory, as I was writing it, seemed a free-wheeling piece of technical bedazzlement. Happily, most of the experimentation in it was elevated to more comprehensible levels by Howard Browne, the quietly competent editor who bought it and with his pencil made me look a little more mature than I really was. There is a certain temporary value to a young writer in coming on as a prose innovator and pyrotechnician; I think there is more for the reader and, in the course of time, more for the writer in letting the story speak for itself.”

So, all procedure and no substance about this story in which the protagonist responds to his emotional travail by murdering his girlfriend. I wonder if it is supposed to be a displaced commentary on race relations, especially since the plot seems to bear some similarity to that of Richard Wright’s Native Son (a book I haven’t read and know only second-hand). Did Budrys have it in mind? Probably not. Probably this is just another example of a writer who can’t think of a more imaginative way to resolve the situation of unbearable frustration he has created than with hideous violence against women—not altogether unrealistically, I have to acknowledge, since I do read the newspapers.

It’s tempting to say “nice try,” but it really isn’t; the best thing to say is that Budrys got better later, at least a lot of the time, in finding better resolutions (or accepting no resolution) for the intolerable situations he was so good at coming up with. One star for substance, three for execution (though as Budrys says, much credit goes to editor Browne for that). Split the difference.

Don't Come to Mars, by Henry Hasse

by Leo Morey

Henry Hasse’s Don’t Come to Mars (Fantastic Adventures, April 1950) is a large comedown from his goofily grandiose classic He Who Shrank, reprinted in the last issue. Dr. Rahm awakes to see himself walking out the door, and looks down to see he has a whole new tentacled body. Aiiko the Martian has borrowed his by long-distance projection. Turns out Aiiko is trying to sabotage Dr. Rahm’s life work developing space travel to Mars so humans will avoid the terrible fate that has befallen the Martians. It’s routinely executed and reads more like a story from the ‘30s than one from 1950. Two stars.

Science of Man: Lies and the Evolution of Language, by Leon E. Stover

Leon E. Stover’s “Science of Man” article is Lies and the Evolution of Language, which displays Stover’s faults even more prominently than his earlier articles. The subject is certainly interesting, but the article is mostly a turgid mass of assertions with very little attempt to convince the reader to believe them or to provide any basis to assess them. This is less of a problem when he is addressing current or recent times, of which most readers will have some direct knowledge or experience. But consider: “Without a doubt the first humans replayed the action of the day around the campfire at night in an unabashed display of ceremonial boasting. And doubtlessly manly valor was an entrance requirement into the hunting team, all the more incentive for a male to boast about what he had seen and done so as to be allowed to become ‘one of the boys.’ ” Certainly plausible, makes sense, but “without a doubt”? Without more support than Stover provides, I’ve got a doubt.

Some of Stover’s assertions are more than doubtful, such as his claim that animals cannot lie. In fact there is considerable deception in the animal world. For example, some birds feign broken wings and walk away from their nests, apparently seeking to distract predators from their eggs or young. Stover might have an argument that that behavior is not linguistic enough to be relevant to the discussion. But he doesn’t make it, or acknowledge the question. Two stars.

Summing Up

So, another mixed-bag issue of Amazing (excluding the serial, to be assessed next time), but one that is promising—a word I must have used a dozen times about this magazine, but this time there's an actual promise about what the new editor plans to do with it. As always, we'll see.

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

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Fashion, music, politics, sports, Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[December 2, 1968] Forget It (January 1969 IF)

December 2, 2023 David Levinson 2 Comments

by David Levinson

Forget the future

It’s official. As if it weren’t already clear from the events in Hungary in 1956 and Czechoslovakia over the summer, the Soviet Union has now openly declared that no communist nation in the Soviet sphere of influence will be allowed to go its own way or engage in any sort of reforms not approved by Moscow. Addressing the Congress of the Polish United Workers’ Party on November 13th, Soviet General Secretary Leonid Brezhnev stated, “When forces that are hostile to socialism try to turn the development of some socialist country towards capitalism, it becomes not only a problem of the country concerned, but a common problem and concern of all socialist countries.” That’s the justification for military intervention wherever the U.S.S.R. feels like, especially within the Warsaw Pact. We all know who will get to decide if something is a move towards capitalism.

Leonid Brezhnev after addressing the Soviet Central Committee earlier this year.

The backlash has already begun. After years of strained relations, Albania formally withdrew from the Warsaw Pact in protest over the invasion of Czechoslovakia. Of course, they have Yugoslavia as a buffer state, and the close proximity of Greece and Italy probably also offer a deterrent. As we go to press, Romanian leader Nicolae Ceaușescu has publicly condemned this new doctrine as a violation of the Warsaw Treaty. Only time will tell how this shakes out.

Forget the past

Forgetfulness seems to be the theme of this month’s IF. The issue is book-ended with stories featuring protagonists with amnesia, while two of the remaining three stories offer a man who doesn’t know his name and an entire year blotted from everybody’s memory.

Just some random art not associated with any of the stories. Art by Chaffee

Six Gates to Limbo (Part 1 of 2), by J.T. McIntosh

A man awakens naked in a field with no idea who he is or how he got there. It proves to be a pleasant place about 50 miles in circumference, surrounded by a dome of gray mist. He dubs the place Limbo. Set in the dome, about 20 feet above ground are six ovals that he believes to be portals. Eventually, he also finds a house with a well-stocked kitchen, a library full of books (printed on Earth, all before 3646), and three bedrooms, two of which have women’s clothes in them.

In the basement, he finds three coffins with windows set in the lids. One is empty and is labeled Rex, giving him a name. The second, labeled Regina, contains a very pretty woman, while the third holds a beautiful woman apparently named Venus. Regina comes to, already knowing her name and also with the ability to know where anything (and anyone) is.

After a time, Rex passes through one of the gateways. He discovers a huge city called Mercury, which is laden with a sense of doom that depresses all its inhabitants. On his return, Rex discovers a freezing sub-basement with clues that the gateways are portals to other planets. Regina deliberately triggers Venus’s awakening, and the three get along fairly well, without Venus interfering in the relationship between the other two.

As this installment ends, Rex and Regina pass through another portal and find themselves on a hot, desert planet. While investigating an immigration office, Rex blunders and the police – or worse – are summoned. To be concluded.

Rex investigates the first portal. Art by Jack Gaughan

McIntosh has given us an interesting set-up and an intriguing mystery, but I don’t see how he’s going to extract Rex and Regina from their current predicament and explore four more worlds in just one installment. I’m eager to see the rest of this. But one thing really stood out to me. Take note Robert Silverberg and many other authors, in and out of science fiction: McIntosh makes very clear to the reader that Regina is quite petite without once referring to her breasts or hips, nor is there anything describing her as childlike. He does describe her once as a girl in comparison to Venus, but Rex clearly views her as an adult. Similarly, we know that Venus is voluptuous without any reference to her secondary sexual characteristics.

A high three stars.

The Year Dot, by William F. Temple

Bart Cabot grew up an orphan in a small town. His fascination with the X-men in the next valley repeatedly gets him into trouble with the Sheriff. He’s also curious why the year 1978 is missing from all the records in the library, but nobody else seems to see a discrepancy. Finally, he pushes the Sheriff too far, and only intervention by one of the X-men saves his life. Bart learns a lot about what’s going on and has a choice to make.

Doesn’t look like any of the X-Men I know. Beast maybe? Art by Brock

The story’s well told, if nothing special. There’s a strong implication that what’s going on is global, but the focus of the story makes it feel entirely local. The missing year thing doesn’t make a lot of sense, either. And calling the aliens in the next valley X-men is just confusing to anyone with a passing knowledge of comic books.

Three stars.

If… and When, by Lester del Rey

This month, Lester del Rey looks at changes in agriculture. Sure, we have things like corn that produces large, uniform ears, strains of plants that grow in soil that was once unsuitable, and fertilizers to replenish exhausted fields. But do those fertilizers replenish minerals that occur in vanishingly small amounts; do the new strains take up those sorts of minerals, if the soils they now grow in even have them? Maybe that will affect taste (ask a vintner about how the tiniest variation can affect their product) or maybe the lack of those “unimportant” minerals will have unsuspected health effects. Lots to think about.

Three stars.

The Steel General, by Roger Zelazny

Zelazny picks up where Creatures of Light left off. Wakim, the servant of Anubis, desperate to find out who he once was, and the Prince Who Was A Thousand do battle in time. Eventually they are transported to another planet, where Horus, son of Osiris, comes also seeking to kill the Prince, as does the Steel General, who supports the Prince merely because he is the underdog.

Anubis doesn’t want Wakim to learn who he really is. Art by P. Reiber

Now Zelazny has me hooked. The intermediate material following Wakim leaving the House of the Dead that weakened the previous story might have fit better at the beginning here, but this works without that, too. Although the ending is something of a cliff-hanger, there’s enough here to make a complete tale, and it’s a doozy. Poetic, mythic, Zelazny at his best.

A high four stars.

Operation High Time, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

Simes are an offshoot of humanity who must take life energy from normal humans, or Gens (short for Generators; Sime from symbiote maybe?). The process was once fatal, but the two groups have found ways to live together, with many restrictions on the Simes. Protagonist Farris is a Sime who has found a way to ease some of those restrictions. His lobbying in Washington leads to his strongest opponent in the Senate being kidnapped. Following a hunch, Farris is kidnapped as well.

Farris is imprisoned with his political nemesis. Art by Brand

Over the last couple of months, I’ve been complaining about badly-done exposition by authors who should know better. This month’s new author shows how to do it right. The exposition in this story comes in small, natural chunks, giving just enough for the story to make sense while hinting at much more. The rest of the story is also done quite well. This is probably the best IF First debut since Larry Niven.

A very high three stars.

In the Shield, by Dean R. Koontz

The latest from Dean Koontz starts off with an amnesiac man in a spaceship filled with weapons that have no maker’s marks on them. In short order he winds up with two unexpected companions and then follows post-hypnotic orders to go to one of the main worlds in the galaxy.

That was the look on my face at about this point in the story. Art by Reese

The story starts off fine, but quickly brings in two astronomically unlikely coincidences, and then goes completely off the rails, descending into a sophomoric attack on religion. Koontz keeps missing the mark, but he does aim high. Maybe he should aim a little lower until he has the chops to match his ambition.

Right on the line between two and three stars. I’ll be generous and give it the lowest three stars possible.

Authorgraphs: An Interview with Roger Zelazny

Zelazny on himself, science fiction, writing and so on. According to the editor’s blurb this was transcribed directly from a recording of him answering questions (which we don’t get). Interesting and informative, if a bit shallow.

Three stars.

I wonder if he’s always this dapper. Art by Gaughan

Summing up

Yet another middle-of-the-road issue. I’m starting to come around on McIntosh, but he’s on probation until next month. Zelazny managed to pull me in, where I had been less interested, and we got a very impressive debut from an author I hope to see more of. But there are times when I feel like Galaxy gets all the choice stories, and IF is left with the dregs.

Can’t say anything here really excites me.

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Magazine, Science / Space Race, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[November 30, 1968] Up, Up, and Around! (December 1968 Analog)

November 30, 2023 Gideon Marcus 7 Comments

by Gideon Marcus

Once more with feeling

Less than two months ago, the Soviets sent Zond 5 on a trip around the Moon in a precursor to a manned flight. And on November 18, Zond 6 repeated the feat with, apparently, even more success. There was some suggestion that Zond 5's reentry and descent was fraught with issues. No such trouble (reported) on Zond 6.

A photo of the Earth from the vicinity of the Moon returned by Zond 6.

The USSR now says (or say, if you're British) that they might well have a manned flight to lunar orbit by early December. This is even as NASA prepares to send Apollo 8 on a circumlunar course on December 21. Yes, it sure seems like the breakneck Space Race is on again. May it claim no more lives in the process.

Once more with mild enthusiasm

by Kelly Freas

The Custodians, by James H. Schmitz

In the far future, Earth's one-world government has collapsed, leaving a plethora of princely states to war with indifferent ferocity. Further out, the settled asteroids, turned into giant space ships, placidly orbit the Sun, maintaining civilized culture as well as they can. And beyond lie the alien-settled "out planets".

After an unprofitable eight-year cruise, Jake Hiskey, commander of the Prideful Sue, has a jackpot plan. He is smuggling in a ship of Rilfs—humanoids with a deadly, natural weapon that kills all animals within a twenty-mile radiius—to serve as mercenaries on Earth. But to get them to Terra, he must first stage on an asteroid. The obvious choice is the one that the sister of Harold, the Sue's navigator, calls home.

The catch: the Rilf who goes by the name McNulty insists that no one know that the Rilfs are on the asteroid. That means all potential witnesses must be eliminated. This includes all of the asteroid's residents and, by extension, Harold, since he is afflicted with a conscience.

Well, Harold is no fool, and he susses out the plan just at its moment of murderous implementation. Can one unarmed man thwart his captain's evil scheme before the asteroid's population is slaughtered? And are the people on the giant rock as effete and defenseless as they seem?

by Kelly Freas

This is a riproaring piece, filled with well-executed action and interesting concepts. If anything, it's a bit too short, reading like two sections of a more fleshed-out novel. The concepts revealed at the end, when we learn the true purpose of the asteroid, are explained too quickly, and in retrospect.

I have to wonder if Schmitz needed to sell this before it was quite ready; I hope an expanded version makes its way to, say, an Ace Double.

Four stars.

A Learning Experience, by Theodore Litwell

by Leo Summers

A fellow signs up for a correspondence course and gets a Type III tutor robot trained at the Treblinka Institute for the sadistically inclined. While the mechanical's browbeatings do get the student to buckle down, he ultimately decides he will get more satisfaction from tearing the robot bolt from bolt.

Just as he is expected to…

Do you have a child who has trouble focusing? This may be just what the tyke needs. Just be ready to sweep the floor afterwards.

Three stars.

The Form Master, by Jack Wodhams

by Kelly Freas

The more complicated a bureaucracy, the better chance someone will find a way to take advantage of it. But he who lives by the forged form may ultimately die by the forged form.

At first, I thought this piece was going to be a celebration of the "rugged individualist" who comes up with a clever justification for stealing from his neighbors. It's not, but it's still kind of tedious.

Two stars.

The Reluctant Ambassadors, by Stanley Schmidt

by Kelly Freas

Humanity's first colony is on a marginal planet of Alpha Centauri. It has been failing for decades. Only one of the two sublight colony ships made it, and there just aren't enough people to make a go of things, especially since the planet's weird orbit takes it between the two bright stars of the trinary, resulting in massive swings of temperatures over the decades.

When FTL drive is invented, a follow-up ship is dispatched from Earth to check on the settlement. On the way, its crew note that hyperspace, which is supposed to be empty, appears to have inhabitants…or at least something is emitting a mysterious glow off the port bow. Once at Centauri, apart from the much bedraggled but doughty Terrans, the relief crew also find evidence of alien visitation, which apparently has been going on since the start of the colony. The colonists had been reluctant to investigate the aliens too deeply as the extraterrestrials had done their best not to be seen. Thus, the first faster-than-light reconnaissance turns into a kind of ambassadorial mission as the captain of the relief vessel heads off in search of the aliens not only to learn their secrets (and the reason for their secrecy) but also to find clues as to the disappearance of the other colony ship.

This is solid, SFnal entertainment, if a little dry and drawn out, and with aliens who are much too humanoid for anything but Star Trek. I like the setting, though.

Three stars.

Situation of Some Gravity, by Joseph F. Goodavage

Analog had been doing so well with its nonfiction articles of late that the appearance of this one is highly disappointing. It's a screed about how the magnetohydrodynamics of the planets affects physical phenomena and people as much as, if not more than, gravity, and that's why astrology works.

I think that's what Goodavage is trying to say. It's certainly what editor Campbell says (in a two-page preface) what Goodavage is trying to say. I found the thing incomprehensible and unreadable, not to mention offensive.

One star.

Pipeline, by Joe Poyer

by Leo Summers

The year is 1985, and the Earth is entering the next Ice Age. Its most immediate impact is a subtle shift in weather patterns, plunging America's industrial northeast into drought. Luckily, engineering has a solution: a great Canadian aqueduct to ship water from the frozen North to the thirsty Eastern Seaboard.

But there are folks not too happy about the project, and just before the pipeline's inaugural activation, saboteurs break the conduit, threatening forty miles of tubing. It is up to a small band of engineers to fix the breach and stop the terrorists before it's too late.

Poyer has written a competent "edge-of-tomorrow" thriller. We never find out just who was behind the sabotage. Strongly implicated is some combination of Japanese businessmen and right-wing Birch-alikes (my suspicions went with some left-wing group like a militant Sierra Club). Anyway, I think this is the first time I've seen Japan as the bogeyman in an SF story. It's a novel twist, and given how much is Made in Japan these days, perhaps a valid prognostication.

Three stars.

Once again with the computers

Here we are at the end of the year for magazines, and it's been a rather middle-of-the-road month. Analog finishes at a mediocre 2.7 star rating, beating out Orbit 4 (2.7), Fantastic (2.6), and IF (2.6)

Scoring above Analog are Galaxy (3.5),
New Worlds (3.5), and Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.2).

Women wrote about 9% of the new fiction published this month, and you could fit all the 4/5 star stories in two magazines out of the seven publications (including one anthology). Really, that sums up the state of magazine SF in general—some excellent stuff, a lot of mediocrity, and attention now focused on television and novels.

That said, it's still clear that magazines contribute a lot to the genre, particularly in the area of short fiction. Certainly Michael Moorcock thinks so, as he is composing a book a week just to keep New Worlds afloat with his own money! That he manages to turn out pretty good stuff in a single tea-fueled draft is a feat that makes him the British Silverbob…with fewer descriptions of underaged bosoms.

So, bid a fond adieu to 1968, at least in cover dates, and let's see what 1969 has in store!

William Shatner waves to the crowd at the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade in New York…but he might also be saying goodbye to 1968

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[November 28, 1968] Puppet on a String (Star Trek: "Plato's Stepchildren")

November 28, 2023 Erica Frank 3 Comments

Who Is the True Child of Plato?

by Erica Frank

This week's Star Trek began with Kirk, Spock, and McCoy beaming down to a planet in response to a medical distress signal. The sensors showed no signs of life, indicating that the Enterprise desperately needs new sensors, as this is the third time in recent weeks the sensors have failed to show the people who would soon be assaulting our crew.

They met the "Platonians," the remnants of a near-immortal race that idolized Earth's ancient Greek civilization and patterned their own after it—or at least, patterned their outfits after it. They have extremely powerful psychokinetic abilities but no infection resistance whatsoever.

Are we to believe these people have never gotten a papercut in the last 2500 years? I shall endeavor to convince myself that their susceptibility to infection is a recent development—that for thousands of years, their environment lacked the bacteria that caused infections in open wounds. Now that it's somehow evolved on their planet, they have no defenses against it.

The Platonians were very grateful for McCoy's medical assistance—so much so that they insisted he stay with them to treat any future injuries they may have. And rather than petition the Federation for volunteer doctors who would love to talk Greek philosophy, they decided that kidnapping with a side of torture and mockery was the way to go.

Welcome to Platonius; your compliance with the local dress code is appreciated—and mandatory.

Plato recognized four primary virtues: Courage, moderation, wisdom and justice. Yet we see none of these in their society—if you can call a group of fewer than four dozen a "society," with no children and no growth or change. (Kirk might've called them out for being stagnant, if he weren't busy calling them out for being despotic bullies.) Instead, we have a pack of apathetic lotus-eaters with a penchant for ridiculing anyone who doesn't have their power.

I saw the Platonians and thought, I am so damned tired of stories where psychic powers turn everyone who has them into bratty tyrants. I was delighted to realize that such is not the story here.

Parmen called himself a "philosopher-king," but he was neither. We saw no hint of philosophical insight from him, and no rulership other than "I am stronger than everyone else, so do what I say or I will kill you." He claimed to live in "peace and harmony," but his "peace" was nothing but the threat of force and humiliation.

Alexander, treated as a slave and court buffoon, had the best understanding of Plato's principles. He immediately argued in favor of the strangers' lives, and was punished for it—which he had to know would happen. He did not want access to the power that had tortured him for so long; he only wanted to escape it. He was understandably enraged with Parmen and wanted to kill him, but when Kirk asked, "Do you want to be like him?"—he immediately dropped the knife.

Alexander warned Kirk about the conditions on Platonius, heedless of any future punishment. He wanted very much to get away from the people who had tortured him for thousands of years, but he did not try to dissuade Kirk and his crew from acquiring the same power that had been used against him for so long. He recognized that corruption is not a matter of power itself, but how it's used, and he had enough faith left to trust his new allies. And when he had a chance at revenge—he turned away from it.

Kirk talks Alexander out of a suicide mission.

Parmen said, "We can all be counted upon to live down to our lowest impulses"—but that's not true. Alexander declined the opportunities for both power and murder. Parmen wants to believe that anyone would turn into a tyrant if given enough raw power… because he doesn't want to acknowledge that the man his court keeps as "a buffoon" has a better understanding of Plato's principles than him and his thirty-odd courtiers.

I can imagine that, in the future, the Platonians are in for some shocking changes. Kirk's report will bring visitors to a planet where psychokinesis is available a few hours after receiving an injection—think of the construction projects that could be done, with no need for clamps or glue to hold pieces in place while they are being assembled. Think of the art that could be created by multiple brushes working together from different angles. Think of the surgeries, with no hands getting in the way, no tool handles blocking the surgeon's view, no gauze compresses interfering with the stitching, because the nurse can pinch the blood vessels shut with a thought.

…And then think of what the Platonians had instead: A sterile world of indolence and petty cruelty.

Five stars.

Katharsis

by Mx. Blue Cathey-Thiele

We get multiple time references in this episode, and many of them are incompatible. They arrived on this planet 2500 years ago, but Philana is only 2300. She was 117 and Parmen 128 when they married. The voyages of the Enterprise take place about two centuries after 1990, according to Kirk in Space Seed, so none of those times match with Plato's lifespan. This is frustrating at first glance, but now I'm inclined to think it works. The Platonians live in a stylized world, based on the appearances and ideas that they have handpicked from Greece and Greek philosophy. It's a facade, set dressing that props up their own personal desires and calls it harmony. I suggest that the infection that McCoy treats is also a ploy, one that Alexander tried to protest before Philana cut him off.

Platonians make the crew move and speak – this is either an incredibly complex set of movements all being controlled at once to move the mouth, lungs, and vocal chords to shape sounds, or a manipulation of the brain itself to force those actions. If they have that much control over bodies that belong to others, surely they can control their own and facilitate healing, or prevent infection from taking hold. Alexander would not necessarily know this though, as he doesn't have that ability, and the others constantly reinforce their control over him. As far as he knows, they did last thousands of years without injury.

Whether the anniversary Parmen references is actually that of 2500 years or not, it is all set up as a performance. He and Philana lead the Platonians in a voyeuristic farce, torturing the crew explicitly and more subtly by making them think that there was ever a choice to leave at all, making McCoy feel complicit in his friends’ pain.

Convulsed with agony, Kirk fights his manipulation

“Tragedy is an imitation of an action that is admirable, complete (composed of an introduction, a middle part and an ending), and possesses magnitude; in language made pleasurable, each of its species separated in different parts; performed by actors, not through narration; effecting through pity and fear the purification of such emotions.” Aristotle, the Poetics

The spectacle of it all reflects aspects of Greek tragedies, interestingly, something Plato's student Aristotle had many thoughts on and wrote about in a reply to Plato's Republic. Through the pain of the “playthings”, Philana and Parmen draw satisfaction. The landing party takes center stage, suitable protagonists for a tragedy, noble and with character traits to be exploited; McCoy's empathy, Spock's stoicism and self control, Kirk's confidence and pride. Uhura's bravery in facing fear and Christine's affection are also twisted to cut right where they are most vulnerable. While the Platonians hardly seem to feel any pity for their victims, they certainly gain an emotional release from the suffering they inflict.

Would I say I enjoyed this episode? Not much of it! But it was a good episode, the way that the crew and Alexander reached out to each other in actions and words amidst the pain was powerful.

5 stars

Refuting Acton's Dictum

by Gideon Marcus

"Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely"

In many ways, "Plato's Stepchildren" is "The Menagerie" redux: a race of humanoids rendered decadent by their superpowers. "Stepchildren" takes things a step further. The big-headed Talosians were at least willing to do things on their own behalf, including zapping Pike unconscious with a sleepy staff. The Platonians refuse to lift a finger, even to that final confrontation between Parmen and Kirk. How easy it would have been for the 37 Platonians to simply throw something at Kirk, or to step forward for personal combat. Yet they all shrink at the image of Alexander with a knife.

Perhaps it is the nature of the power that so atrophies the Platonians. After all, the Talosian power was that of illusion. The Platonians really do have physical mastery of their environment. Either way, the lesson is clear: power is an irresistible narcotic.

Which is why it's so refreshing when it isn't.

McCoy, in creating a telekinesis potion (and that was an excellent scene combining science and computers in a logical fashion a la "Wolf in the Fold"), has unlocked a frightful Pandora's Box. Who wouldn't want those kinds of powers? Answer: Kirk doesn't. He much prefers to do things for himself. Alexander doesn't. He's seen what happens to those who partake.

Alexander, handsome star of the show

And can we just turn a spotlight on Michael Dunn's performance as Alexander? In an episode characterized by excellent performances, Alexander yet shines. Humble, noble, resourceful, admirable, vengeful, not to mention the incredible physical control he displays, alternating from painful hobbling to acrobatic feats as he is "thrown around" by Parmen. Bravo. I could not have loved Dunn's character half so much were he not so well-realized, nor would the lesson to be learned from the Platonian's folly have been so effective.

There's not much to this episode—just a few sets, a lot of talking, a lot of torture. On the other hand, with such tools, Aeschylus created Prometheus Bound, and I think "Plato's Stepchildren" will be as enduring a classic.

Five stars.

In the Face of Oppression

by Lorelei Marcus

Fear is power. It is a tool of control, wielded to maintain hierarchy and oppression. Plato's stepchildren (the Platonians) reveled in the fear they caused in others, or seemed to cause, and the sense of control it gave them.

Yet Uhura said, even as her body moved against her will, "I am not afraid." While the Platonians had physical control, her defiance was a resistance, a crack in the facade of their total dominion.

I have to wonder if Nichelle Nichols was at all afraid acting this scene, for her kiss with Shatner, too, was a kind of resistance. What ripples and backlash will this episode create? What consequences will she, the actress, have to face? Perhaps she found strength, like Uhura drew courage from the Captain's prior steady influence, because she was not the first.

The performance of the actors, so clearly resistant, undercuts any torrid interpretations

Last year, Nancy Sinatra had an hour long musical special featuring several of her groovy tunes strung together through a loose narrative exploring her life and the people in it. It was an all-star cast, including dance numbers arranged by the choreographer for Hullabaloo and cameos from several members of the Rat Pack. Two of the numbers, successively, featured Dean Martin and then Sammy Davis Jr. Both were duets, and both ended with Nancy kissing them, much like a girl kisses her uncle, or performers kiss in greeting/departing. The kisses were sweet and harmless—and very deliberately staged for impact, particularly the latter kiss. When Sammy and Nancy kiss, it looks impromptu, but the performers deliberately caused the embrace to occur at the end of the shooting day, right before Sammy had to leave, such that the director couldn't demand a retake.

Black meets white on Movin' with Nancy

I don't know if there has been much reaction to that kiss, but I have seen Sammy host Hollywood Palace a few times since, and his activist spirit only burns brighter and more fervently the more he appears. He's trying to drive change and inspire others to follow. That kiss was only one of example of his efforts.

And with Star Trek and Nichelle Nichols following in his footsteps, not to mention groundbreaking movies like Guess who's coming to dinner?, I think that momentum is building.

In the face of a fearsome enemy, the two primary human reactions are paralysis and/or anger. Plato's stepchildren evoked both as I watched our beloved characters manipulated like puppets. It also inspired me, in the face of overwhelming crisis and inequality, to not be afraid. Indeed, I will hold onto my fury and let it drive me, until we have the power to overcome our oppressors.

Five stars.

[Come join us tomorrow (November 29th) for the next thrilling episode of Star Trek! KGJ is broadcasting the show live with commercials and accompanied by trekzine readings at 8pm Eastern and Pacific. You won't want to miss it…]

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[November 26, 1968] Warhol, Delany, Cornelius and Perversity New Worlds, December 1968

November 26, 2023 Mark Yon 6 Comments

by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again.

Some degree of normality this month. Yes, I actually got a copy of the new New Worlds (and if you’ve been following the drama of the last few issues, you’ll know that the regular arrival of an issue is no longer a given.)

But is it any good?

I thought that the last issue in November was a bit of an improvement, but as we’ve said before, that is no guarantee of the next issue being good – or even there being a next issue at all.

Nevertheless, I was hoping that this issue would at least match the previous.

Cover by Gabi Nasemann

Well, we can’t accuse editor Mike Moorcock and his team of resting on their laurels. The cover shows a new development straight away. We have what is rather expected – the generically meaningless picture of a young woman in strangely coloured tones – but then along the right-hand side we have the start of Brian Aldiss’ story …And the Stagnation of the Heart. I guess that this is an attempt to make you read more within.

Lead In by The Publishers

More about the contributors this month. Perhaps the most interesting thing here is that Bill Butler, poet and proprietor of The Unicorn Bookshop in Brighton, has recently been arrested on obscenity laws.

Other than that, the usual descriptions of the authors and their work to date.

…And the Stagnation of the Heart by Brian W, Aldiss

Ah, the return of Brian Aldiss, with a story that (thank goodness) isn’t a Charteris story, that ongoing series of stories set in the Acid House Wars, but instead a continuation of an idea that Aldiss first began back in the March 1966 issue of Impulse (Remember that?) with The Circulation of the Blood. There Aldiss told of Clement Yale, a scientist who was involved in developing an immortality drug, which, unless there were accidents or murder, could extend human life to the point of near-immortality – for a price. The main consequences then as a result were that those who could afford the drug (mainly in Europe and North America) were developing a new social order. In "…And the Stagnation of the Heart" Yale and his wife go to India, where they see the other side of the coin.

In India and Pakistan, the immortality drug is banned, with appalling consequences. Yale discovers that Calcutta is a city overrun with people and has famine as a result. Yale basically sees the other side of the coin – what could happen in the world with uncontrolled population growth?

Brian does well to describe both the beauty and the squalor of a Third World country and examines what can happen if places are denied immortality. It also poses the question of whether it would be right for these people to have access to a drug which would make them near-immortal.

I’m not sure what the importance of shooting goats in the story means, other than to perhaps emphasise the difference in lifestyles between India and more developed countries.

Nevertheless, a thought-provoking story, tempered only by the fact that it feels incomplete. 4 out of 5.

The Apocalypse Machine by Leo Zorin

Zorin’s story is a satirical monologue, a speech detailing a new apocalypse machine to its prospective customers. In an understated way, this involves setting off a nuclear device in London’s Hyde Park and initiating earthquakes in various parts of the city. All die in the end. Interesting idea that is firmly anti-nuclear/anti-war, written in a satirical manner. 3 out of 5.

Article: Warhol Portraits, Still Lifes, Events by Andrew Lugg

A summary of the work to date of film-maker and artist, Andy Warhol. Fascinating – an article that had me applauding one minute and shaking my head in disbelief the next. Can’t say that Warhol’s a dull character, though. 4 out of 5.

The Delhi Division by Michael Moorcock

The welcome return of Mike Moorcock’s Avengers-like super-agent Jerry Cornelius! Jerry goes to India (see also Aldiss’s story set in India – coincidence?) to assassinate someone with the help of Mata-Hari-like Sabitha. The attempt fails and so different time streams dominate.

This is one where different time streams seem to be tangled—somewhere (or rather somewhen, perhaps) Cornelius has a child, others not. As a result, this one is less fun than previous stories as Jerry shows a much more melancholic side to his persona here.

Generally though, The Delhi Division is still deliberately provocative and occasionally scurrilous. I’m interested by the point that, as this month’s Lead In says, there will be more Jerry Cornelius but written by other people next month. I wonder where they will go. 4 out of 5.

The Colours by Thomas M. Disch

Or as you Americans will say, “The Colors”. This is a piece about the effect on Raymond and the people around him by a machine that shows colours to create moods. Really, it’s about the effect of drugs on a listless society, although this may be a metaphor for TV. It may feel relevant to the drug-taking young people of society today, but to me it seems filled with meaning and yet meaning little. I’m not really sure what it is trying to say, although that may be the point. 3 out of 5.

The New Agent by Joel Zoss

We have mentioned in the past of New Worlds' determination to shock, and this is one of those stories.

It is about Nickolas Dugonie, a nurse who has a relationship with a paralysed patient, Phyllis Wexler. Nickolas’s obsession with the immobile patient leads to them having sex and Phyllis becoming pregnant, although this also seems to lead to a reawakening of Phyllis, something she keeps secret from all except Dugonie. Deeply unpleasant, and yet memorable, but for all the wrong reasons. You want a shockingly nasty story? You got one. This one is more deserving of the outrage Bug Jack Barron got, in my opinion. 2 out of 5.

Peace Talking by Bill Butler

Ah, poetry, this time of an anti-war nature. Move along, please. As with most of these attempts to raise my cultural experience, I try but find them short and unmemorable. 2 out of 5.

Time Considered as a Helix of Semi-Precious Stones by Samuel R. Delany

This may be the big seller of the issue, as Samuel is one of the big internationally recognised Science Fiction writers of the New Wave. It doesn’t disappoint. A real highlight in its complexity, style and sheer energy.

It is a story told in the first person by a individual with various aliases but generally with the initials HCE, a criminal who is attempting to sell some stolen goods in a New York bar. Before the delivery takes place, his buyer is found dead. HCE discovers that he is being followed by Special Services, who then disappears. HCE meets up with Hawk, a Singer (who to me sounded a little like a new version of Heinlein’s Rhysling from The Green Hills of Earth.) Hawk manages to get HCE into a grand mobster’s party in order for HCE to sell his stuff. There HCE sells his stuff to Arty the Hawk (whose similarity in name is a little confusing), a big-time gangster, but just afterwards the party is raided and there is a fire.

Picture by James Cawthorn

Using his new-found money, HCE makes a name for himself. He sets up an ice cream parlour on Triton, a moon of Neptune, to cover his other activities and becomes a rival to Arty the Hawk. The story ends with the Hawk and HCE meeting and agreeing to work together rather than kill each other. Afterwards HCE is left contemplating this new situation.

This story shows how much of a breath of fresh air Delany is to the science fiction genre, being both classic in content and “cutting-edge” at the same time. At its most basic level, it is a crime story set across different planets, but it is more than that. It made me think of it as something Heinlein would write if he was a New Wave writer and not the writer of Stranger in a Strange Land, taking old science-fictional elements and making them seem new. Lyrical but not baroque, Delany creates visual imagery without lengthy verbiage. I read the story more than once and found more details I had missed the first time around. Potentially Award-nomination stuff. 5 out of 5.

Book Review – Two Kinds of Opium

It may not be too much of a surprise to see the new New Worlds focus on non-genre books in its reviews of late. With that in mind, this month has a mixture of genre and non-genre publications. First off, “W.E.B.” (possibly ‘William Ewart Barclay’, a pseudonym for Mike Moorcock) reviews books that are about China (China Observed by Colin Mackeras and Neale Hunter, The Oriental World by Jeannine Auboyer and Roger Goepper and Peter Swann’s The Art of China, Korea and Japan ) as well as John Selby’s The Paper Dragon about the Opium Wars of the 19th century.

M. John Harrison in his new role as book reviewer deals with what we would see as more traditional science fictional fare , under his own name and as the pseudonym Joyce Churchill- The Final Programme by a certain Mike Moorcock, Camp Concentration by Thomas M. Disch, Jesus Christs by A. J. Langguth, Black Easter by James Blish, Nova by Samuel R. Delany (heard of him?) Picnic on Paradise by fellow New Wave writer Joanna Russ, The Last Unicorn by Peter Beagle and The Reproductive System by John Sladek. With new hands to the wheel, it is good to see more science fiction reviewed, even if you may disagree with the reviews, as I often did.

There are then some Biology books reviewed by Caroline Smith and a very brief mention of some books reviewed by W.E.B. again, which range from a book on The Death of Hitler to The Making of Star Trek. Eclectic, eh?

Summing Up

With a new front cover style, this issue of New Worlds seems to have a new energy this month. As ever, the stories are eclectic and wide-ranging, from those I liked (Delany, Aldiss, Moorcock) to the pointless (Disch, Zorin) to the one I hated (Zoss) which seemed to just want to shock.

A better-than-typical New Worlds issue then, although recently they have not been bad, in my opinion. The Delany is really a potential award-winner, I think, and alone makes the issue worth buying.

(And where would New Worlds be without a provocative photo or a mention of J. G. Ballard? This is an advertisement on the back cover.)

Until next time!

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55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction