Thanks to centuries of tradition, we tend to think of the Far East as…well…east! But for us, going to Japan means a 12-hour flight west—literally into tomorrow, as we cross the International Date Line to do it.
This week marked the beginning of our fourteenth trip to Japan. How things have changed since we first went back in 1948, when flying via Northwest Orient meant an entire day of travel with multiple stops. Travel these days is practically instantaneous by comparison.
We were even able to hop on a same-day domestic flight from Tokyo to Fukuoka, which is where I'm writing this. I've been able to develop my first roll of color film, the results of which I am happy to share:
The Alient
The latest issue of Galaxy is, like this month's IF, the first under the helm of Ejler Jakobsson, and it's also a month late. Will it be more interesting than the rather dull IF? Well, it's certainly different. After all, the lead piece is one I would have expected to appear in Analog. Why wouldn't Campbell want the sequel to the incredibly popular and presumably lucrative Dune. Dunno… but here it is:
It's hard to believe it was just six years ago that the Renaissance Pleasure Faire started in the suburbs of Los Angeles:
"Counterculture" didn't even have a name yet (I think we were calling it "contraculture"), but already, there were folks weary of the modern age, casting their eyes back to a simpler time. You know, when there were far more things that could kill you, and much fewer opportunities to escape drudgery…
Anyway, I reported on our last foray into the past a couple of years ago. These days, the back-to-then movement is stronger than ever, with the Society for Creative Anachronism exploding (do they have a thousand members now?) and Renaissance Faires catching on. They are a good fit for the Pagans and hippies and folks looking for an escape.
We're not immune to the lure. Here are some scenes from this month's event:
You may recognize the fellow in blue
What really makes the Faire such a delight is the attention to detail. Everywhere you go, there are actors and actress really playing a part, making the whole thing an exercise in living history. Of course, as my "character" styles himself a member of the Habsburg clan, you can bet I razzed the Queen when she paraded by with her foppish retinue.
Nevertheless, I hope the Faire retains its purity, prioritizing the spirit of the event rather than descending into a kind of cynical capitalism. Though, I suppose, that's what the original faires were all about…
Alas!
Speaking of cynical capitalism, I feel that Analog editor stays on the job these days just for a paycheck (and a podium for his irrascible editorials—which he then compiles and sells in book form!) While the latest issue isn't terrible, it certainly doesn't scrape the heights it achieved "back in the day."
by Leo Summers
Artifact, by J. B. Clarke
The name of J. B. Clarke is unknown to me. Perhaps he's Arthur Clarke's little brother (sister?) His writing isn't bad, nor even is the premise, but the execution of this first tale of his…
by Leo Summers
A beach ball-sized orb appears in interplanetary space. When an Earth spaceship tries to pick it up, it zips away at faster-than-light speeds a couple of times, as if to demonstrate that it can, and then becomes docile. After it is picked up, the humans assessing the artifact determine that it was deliberately sent to jump-start our technology. But was the rationale benevolent or otherwise?
This would have been a great story had not Clarke explained from the very beginning that the scheme was a plot by the evil Imperium to instigate a diplomatic incident a la the Nazis asserting a Polish attack against the Germans on September 1, 1939. This would give the rapacious aliens legal precedent to annex our planet. Moreover, we learn that an agent of the "Web", the galactic federation of which the Imperium constitutes a small portion, is already on Earth, guiding our assessment of the artifact.
As a result, there's no tension. We know everything will turn out fine. Indeed, it's a strangely un-Campbellian story in that humans aren't the smart ones in the end. But because there are no decisions to be made, no suspense to the outcome, the story falls flat.
Two stars.
Zozzl, by Jackson Burrows
by Leo Summers
This one gets closer to the mark. It stars a big game hunter whose quarry is a telepathic beast. The creature's natural defense is to access your fears and throw pursuers into a nightmare world, repelling them. It's a neat concept, and Burrows (another name with which I am unacquainted), renders the dream sequences quite effectively.
While we learn a bit about our hero's past and motivations, he never really has to solve any puzzles to win his prize. He just wins in the end. There needs to be more.
Still, I really dug the idea, and there's definitely potential for Jackson. Three stars.
Dramatic Mission, by Anne McCaffrey
by Leo Summers
Here's the latest installment of the The Ship Who. This series stars Helva, a profoundly disabled woman who, at a young age, was turned into a cybernetic brain for a starship. Together with a series of "brawns", the human component of the ship's crew, she has been on all kinds of adventures.
In this story, we learn that brain-ships can earn their independence (paying off the debt of their construction) and fly without brawns, and that many vessels strive for this status. But Helva prefers to ride with company—indeed, she insists on it.
Well, her wish is granted. Short-listed for a priority mission to Beta Corvi, Helva is tasked to transport a troupe of actors to a gas giant in that system, where they will perform Romeo and Juliet for a bunch of alien jellyfish in exchange for an important chemical process.
The problem is the drama that unfolds before the drama: Solar Prane, the star, is dying from chronic use of a memory-enhancing drug. His nurse is deeply in love with him. His co-star and ex-lover is jealous and stubbornly insists on sabotaging the production. It is up to Helva to be the grown-up in the room and save the day.
There is so much to like about this story, so many neat, unique things about the setting and characters, that it's a shame McCaffrey can't help getting in her own way. She loves writing waspish, unlikeable characters, and her penchant for including casual, off-putting violence reminds me of what I don't like about Marion Zimmer Bradley.
This is one of those pieces I'd like to see redone by someone more talented and sensitive. Zenna Henderson, maybe, if I wanted to see the soft tones enhanced, or Rosel George Brown (RIP) if I wanted something a little lighter and funnier.
The planet of Terex has turned into a death trap for the terran Space Force. Invited in to deal with an insurgency problem, a combination of religious proscriptions against advanced technology and a flourishing black market that loots what munitions are allowed in, the human troops are not only made into sitting ducks but laughing stocks.
Enter a canny colonel of the Interstellar Corps, whose bright idea is to suffuse all incoming logistics with explosives so that, when they are stolen, they explode. Deterrent and humiliation, all in one.
It may seem that I've given away the plot…and I have. It's given away fairly early on, and the rest of the story is simply an explication of the plan's success.
I should have liked the story less than I did, but it reads pretty well. Three stars.
The Ghoul Squad, by Harry Harrison
by Leo Summers
A rural sheriff digs in his heels at the notion of government agencies harvesting the organs of newly dead victims of traffic accidents in his jurisdiction. He sticks to his principles even at the cost of his own life, decades later.
The human sphere of stars has begun to brush against the part of the galaxy claimed by the loosely knit Morah, aliens with a talent for profound modification of bodies, internally and externally. In the middle of sensitive negotiations between the two empires over a contested bit of space, a bipedal creature runs amok at the space dock. It is impossible to determine if the being is a Morah made to look like a human or a human made to look like a Morah. Ultimately, the fate of the two empires rests on this hapless person.
Easily the best story in the issue, both interesting and well written, though it still rates no more than four stars.
Give me the past
Short story SF appears to be on the decline in general, with only four magazines out this month. Of them, Fantasy and Science Fiction was by far the best, garnering 3.4 stars, but Fantastic and New Worlds both barely made three stars, and Mark, who covers the last mag, has been grumbling about all the newfangled, outré stuff.
As a result, you could fill just one digest-sized magazine with all the good stuff that came out this month. In other statistical news, women produced just 8% of all the new fiction this month.
It's enough to make you long for the (romanticized) good ol' days…but who knows what the future holds?
Venus has gotten a lot of attention from Earth's superpowers. Part of it is its tremendous similarity to our home in some ways: similar mass, similar composition, similar distance from the Sun (as such things go). But the biggest reason why so many probes have been dispatched to the Solar System's second world (to wit: Mariner 2, Mariner 5, Venera 1, Veneras 2 and 3, and Venera 4) is because it's the closest planet to Earth. Every 19 months, Earth and Venus are aligned such that a minimum of rocket is required to send a maximum of scientific payload toward the Planet of Love. Since 1961, every opportunity has seen missions launched from at least one side of the Pole.
This year's was no exception: on January 5 and 10, the USSR launched Venera (Venus) 5 and 6 toward the second planet, and this month (the 16th and the 18th), they arrived.
Our conception of Venus has changed radically since spaceships started probing the world. Just read our article on the planet, written back in 1959, before the world had been analyzed with radar and close-up instruments. Now we know that the planet's surface is the hottest place in the Solar System outside the Sun: perhaps 980 degrees Fahrenheit! The largely carbon dioxide and nitrogen atmosphere crushes the ground at up to 100 atmospheres of pressure. The planet rotates very slowly backward, but there is virtually no difference between temperatures on the day and night sides due to the thick atmosphere. There is no appreciable magnetic field (probably because the planet spins so slowly) so no equivalent to our Van Allen Belts or aurorae.
This is all information returned from outside the Venusian atmosphere. Inference. To get the full dope, one has to plunge through the air. Venera 4 did that, returning lower temperatures and air pressures. This was curious, but it makes sense if you don't believe the Soviet claim that the probe's instruments worked all the way to the ground—a dubious assertion given the incredibly hostile environment. No, Venera 4 probably stopped working long before it touched down.
The same may be true of Veneras 5 and 6. TASS has not released data yet, but while the two probes were successfully delivered onto Venus' surface, we have no way of knowing that they returned telemetry all the way down. Indeed, the Soviet reports are rather terse and highlight the delivery of medals and a portrait of Lenin to Venus, eschewing any mention of soft landing. The news does spend a lot of time talking about solar wind measurements on the way to Venus—useful information, to be sure, but beside the point.
The Venera spacecraft and lander capsule
Anyway, at the very least, we can probably hope to get some clarity on what goes on in the Venusian air. It may have to wait until next time before we learn just what's happening on the ground, however.
To Hell
I bitched last month about the lousy issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. Well, I am happy to say that the May issue is more than redeemed by this June 1969 issue, which, if not stellar throughout, has sufficient high points to impress and delight.
[We've got another wonderful haul of books for you this month, many of which are well worth you're time. Be sure to read on 'til the end—you'll definitely catch the reading bug!]
By Mx Kris Vyas-Myall
The Hieros Gamos of Sam and An Smith by Josephine Saxton
Josephine Saxton is British author so, of course, her first book is about apocalypses and sexual awakening. However, it's a particularly skilled one.
The story: an unnamed teenage boy is wandering across the desolated British landscape alone, after an unexplained event has killed off all the other people. He comes across a baby girl and decides to bring her up. Together they try to understand the world that was left behind and what it means to be an adult.
You might assume this is either the usual “New Adam and Eve” story, or some kind of shock piece. However, Saxton manages to negotiate between these two paths skillfully. She describes the sexual emergences of both of them in matter-of-fact terms, which grounds the story within the dream-like atmosphere they inhabit.
As we go through, their comprehension of the world changes from child-like to a clear understanding of the facts of life. Even though their eventual relations could come across as disturbing given the age difference between the two, and the fact The Boy brought her up like a little sister, Saxton manages to largely negate this. She is able to show the passage of time well and, more importantly, give us the thought processes of both our leads to show they have free-will and are fully in control of their choices. For example:
She studied this for some time, and came to the conclusion that this was a drawing of a penis, and at what she had read and seen, she became hot all over, and in an excitable state.
There is also a clear sense throughout the text about the importance of symbolism. The Boy is constantly dismissing the importance of words and symbols but The Girl slowly shows him that deeper meaning is important.
For me, the key message that is brought out here is that they need to wipe away the sins of the past. The things that brought this world into being. When The Girl is bathing she sings about washing away her troubles in the River Jordan. And, when she gives birth, she insists on doing it in a place of death “to eradicate the source of evil here”. There is a central concept that simply them growing up and continuing the human race is not enough. Things have to change.
I picked up this novel as I knew it was related to The Consciousness Machine, one of my favourite novellas of last year. The connection raises significant questions. However, to discuss this requires mentions of later revelations of both works. As such, if you want to avoid knowing these facts, please feel free to skip to the next review.
As the name suggests, the novella is about a machine, WAWWAR, that can take the images of the unconscious mind and display them on a screen. The technician Zona is trying to decipher the meaning of The Boy and The Girl’s journey. There is also another piece of material relating to the hunt for a wild animal. These secondary and tertiary narratives are completely absent from the novel, which only contains The Boy and Girl’s tale in its totality.
As such, the conclusion of the book version is not about Zona learning the nature of the Animus, but The Boy, The Girl and The Baby deciding it is time to go home. So, they get on a bus, pay the conductor and go back to a fully furnished suburban house. The Girl then decides to get an early night as there is nothing on television on Tuesdays and puts the baby to sleep.
Now, a simple explanation for this could be we are literally seeing the film that was recorded by the WAWWAR. However, no hint of that is given and I think that is too large a leap to expect the average reader to make.
But to read it purely as a science fiction tale causes just as many problems. This sharp turn is nowhere hinted at in the text and in fact contradicts several core points created. Even if you could somehow accept the idea that The Boy went to live in a town that has been uninhabited, how does he have a house? How has he never seen a fully grown adult woman before? How does The Girl know about contemporary television schedules? How is the home not only still available to them after decades away, but with the utilities on?
So, what are we to make of this strange choice? There is no reason I could imagine that would force Saxton to expunge this frame from the longer book form. And the novel is indeed a good bit more explicit than the novella. So, a choice we must assume it is.
I like to believe it is opening us up to the freedom to understand the text in our own way. Zona’s meta-commentary on the events is merely one way of understanding a dream. You could also just as easily contend that the explosion in the chemist, shortly before they leave the town of Thingy, actually killed them all, suburbia representing the afterlife and Zona being like the angels in 40s cinema, discussing their existence.
Or, perhaps, the Town of Thingy really does exist and is a time displaced retreat. Something akin to Hawksbill Station. Where couples facing marital difficulties can be de-aged, grow-up together, and learn how to become one unit again, before being brought back at the same moment they left. And then The Consciousness Machine is actually just a dream The Girl has after she goes to bed.
I don’t know what Saxton intended, but I also do not think it matters. The journey and feel of the novel is excellent and how you choose to view it is just as valid as those watching the WAWWAR.
Humanity has made its first steps into interstellar space, settling the worlds of the Pleiades. In so doing, they have brushed across the domain of the mysterious Moldaug—a frustratingly humanoid but not quite human alien race with a fleet strength comparably to Terra's. After decades of peaceful coexistence, the Moldaug suddenly make claim to all the Pleiades. The Old Worlds of Earth, Mars, and Venus, reeling from a kind of space phobia, offer to relinquish their own claims to the Frontier. This only makes things worse for two reasons: 1) the Moldaug inexplicably find the offer offensive, and 2) the Frontier is not Earth's to give, for they had fought and won independence a dozen years prior! (For more on this story, see the novelette Hilifter.)
by Jack Gaughan (and cribbed from the novelization of Three Worlds to Conquer, as I learned from my friend, Joachim Boaz—the art makes much more sense for the original title)
Enter Cully O'Rourke When, the man most responsible for the Frontier's independence. When the veteran spacejacker returns to Earth to treat with the Old World's government, he is thrown into a floating prison with hundreds of other Frontiersmen, rendered impotent to cause more mischief. But in that very prison, he learns from an imprisoned anthropologist the explosive secret that foretells Armageddon between humans and the Moldaug…unless someone can bring the two races into true understanding.
Thus begins a tale that involves Cully's jailbreak, piracy on high space, and political turmoil in three realms.
This is a frustrating book because it has such potential, and there are many things to like in it. The gripping beginning, the well-realized triune nature of the Moldaug (each being-unit comprises three tri-bonded individuals), the subtle difference in morality between the two species (Right/not-Right vs. Respectable/not-Respectable—though one could argue that this is a thinly guised variation of the Japanese concept of "Face"), the rich setting, the final confrontation between Cully and the Moldaug Admiral Ruhn…these are all compelling.
But Dickson falls into the issues he had with his Dorsai series: one mastermind (our hero) knows every move and countermove, and everything breaks his way. As a result, the only drama comes in seeing the master plan unfold, not how said hero responds to adversity. In stories like this, one can see the author laying out the stepping stones, guiding a path so that the protagonist never makes a misstep.
The other issue is the virtual absence of women. I know people have given me grief for harping on this issue since I started this 'zine in 1958, but come on, people—it's 1969. We have women leading Israel and India. On Star Trek, a third of the crew of the Enterprise is female. A few years back, Rydra Wong led a crew of misfits to save the galaxy. So when the only human female character in all of the Frontier and the Old Worlds serves just to be a romantic foil (and to be ignored at the one juncture that she has critical information!), and she is the sole woman amongst a cast of dozens of men, the world Dickson builds starts to feel a little hollow.
Edmund Cooper is a British writer who has been active since the '50s, and up until recently I've not had the pleasure to read any of his work. He put out a novel just a month or two ago, and now here he is again, with a short collection called News from Elsewhere, featuring eight stories, only one of which is original to the collection. It was published in Britain last year but only just now got an American edition, courtesy of Berkley Medallion. Overall it's a mixed bag, since it looks like Cooper likes to repeat himself (there are three or four stories here about space expeditions), but the strongest material does make me curious for more. Let's take a look.
This is the only story to be first published in News from Elsewhere, and it’s… fine. It’s basically a fable, set in an icy and desolate world, about a young woman and her infant son as they travel with “the People of the Spur,” on a religious pilgrimage. The problem is that the woman’s son is a half-breed, a child-by-rape whose father is a “Changeling,” of a fellow humanoid race that whose members have hairy and thorny ridges on their backs. The woman tries to keep her son’s racial status a secret, but in trying to evade her people she literally falls into a chasm—and certain death. Cooper’s style here is almost childlike; there is barely any dialogue, and by the end it becomes clear what message we’re supposed to take from what is admittedly a harrowing adventure narrative. Cooper also saves the answer to the question “Is this science fiction or fantasy?” for the end, although I’m not sure why he treats it like a twist.
We jump from the newest story to one of the oldest, first published as “The End of the Journey” in the February 1956 issue of Fantastic Universe. “M 81: Ursa Major” is a space opera that asks a rather troubling question: “How do we know when we’re dead?” Or, to phrase it less threateningly: “How can we tell the difference, subjectively speaking, between being dead and being unconscious?” An experimental ship uses scientific mumbo jumbo to skirt the fact that it’s impossible to travel at the speed of light. The results are tragic, but also very strange—not least for the deeply jaded captain, who has a hunch that things will go wrong indeed. This is a story with a loose plot and only one genuine character to speak of, but it’s anchored by a strong idea. It’s the kind of story that was commonplace a decade and a half ago, but which now strikes me as a bit refreshing. I almost feel nostalgic about this sort of thing.
Four stars, but I understand if someone reads it and is not as impressed.
The Enlightened Ones
This one originally appeared in Cooper’s first collection, Tomorrow’s Gift. It’s the longest in the collection, and frankly, I’m not sure the length was justified. Long story short, a team of space explorers makes first contact with a race of hominids, who at first seem like primitive humans but who turn out to have a major advantage over the humans—only the humans are too concerned with what to do with the hominids at first to notice anything amiss. It’s a trite premise, even by the standards of a decade ago, that’s elevated by Cooper’s acute pessimism with regards to the notion of human supremacy. In this distant future it’s said that the Eskimos, Polynesians, and some other indigenous groups on Earth have been driven to extinction. Certainly the Campbellian protagonists do not come off well for the most part, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise that “The Enlightened Ones” (such an immediately ironic title) was printed in Fantastic Universe and not Astounding/Analog.
First published in the 1963 collection Tomorrow Came, which may sound unfamiliar because it never got an American printing. “Judgment Day” is the most British-sounding of the lot so far, to the point where it reads like the late John Wyndham at a hefty discount. At first it doesn’t even register as SF. The narrator and his wife are in the park one day when people around them start having violent seizures—too many in one place for this to be a random occurrence. Soon the narrator’s wife falls victim as well, and for much of the story we may be wondering about not just the cause, but the context for all this. What does any of this mean? The narrator meets a soldier who promptly feeds him enough information to stun an elephant, the result being that we’re told about something important that basically happens outside the confines of the page and which has already come to an end by the time the narrator hears about it. It’s rather inelegant, never mind that the SFnal element already feels outdated somehow.
Two stars.
The Intruders
Cover art by Virgil Finlay.
This one first appeared as “Intruders on the Moon” in the April 1957 issue of Fantastic Universe. Yes, this surely does read like an SF adventure story from a dozen years ago. A team of explorers land on our moon to investigate the massive crater that is Tycho, for mining as well as the slim possibility of discovering intelligent life. (Something I wish to make clear at this point is that Cooper’s characters are not usually “characters” in the Shakespearian sense; they do not tend to have distinguishable personalities.) Miraculously, however, one of the crew discovers footprints in the sand near Tycho—rather large footprints with very long strides, indeed too much to be a human’s. The explorers go looking for this “Man Friday” of theirs, but they soon learn to regret it. “The Intruders” is pretty straightforward for how long it is, and while its quaint vision of man’s landing on the moon would have been acceptable last decade, I can’t imagine there being much interest in a story of its sort now.
One of Cooper’s earliest stories, and a hand-me-down from Tomorrow’s Gift. A team of space explorers (oh God, not again) lands on “Planet Five,” where there doesn’t seem to be any organic life—save for a species of butterfly. The butterflies have a power over the human explorers they remain unaware of until it’s too late. But it’s not all bad: the explorers also have with them a smartass robot named Whizbang, who emerges as the story’s single genuine character. The autonomous robot comes off more human than the actual humans, although this may be Cooper’s intention, as he uses this disparity at the end of the story to somewhat chilling effect. I’m sensing repetition in the story selection, but I do tepidly recommend this one. If nothing else it comes close to “M 81: Ursa Major” in conveying Cooper’s thesis on the strenuous nature between human rationality and things in our universe which may be beyond human understanding.
A strong three stars.
The Lizard of Woz
Cover art by Virgil Finlay.
This one first appeared in the August 1958 issue of Fantastic Universe, and it’s the crown jewel of the collection. “The Lizard of Woz,” aside from having an incredible title, is different from the others in that it is an outright comedy (albeit of a morbid hue), but it also is told from an alien’s perspective. Ynky is a member of a highly advanced race of alien lizards, who has been sent to Earth so as to determine if it is fit for “fumigation,” i.e., genocide on a planetary scale. The people Ynky comes into contact with (an American, then a Russian, then a third I would prefer to keep a secret) are caricatures, which is all well and good. Cooper pokes fun at both sides of the Iron Curtain, but overall this is a story about the absurdity of the notion of racial supremacy. We’re told constantly that the lizards of Woz are a superior race, yet they also have slave labor and are casually murderous with other sentient races, not to mention Ynky himself is rather slow-witted. Since this is a comedy, and a pretty silly one to boot, some people will be irritated by the antics, but I laughed several times over the span of its mere ten pages.
Finally we have “Welcome Home,” which first appeared in Tomorrow Came and so this marks its first American appearance. Looking back at that time, it seems now like the early ‘60s were simply an extension (or the semi-stale leftovers) of the ‘50s, at least with regards to SF, because this story reads as a few years older than it is. A team of explorers (for the last time, we swear it) land on Mars, which is suspected of possibly hosting life, but if so life on Mars would be far down on the evolutionary ladder. As it turns out, a mysterious pyramid, a sophisticated structure, has drawn the explorers’ attention. This is a first-contact story—of a sort. The twist, which I won’t say here (although you can safely guess it), seemed oddly familiar to me. As with a few other stories in the collection, “Welcome Home” is about the conflict between the West and the Soviets, although it’s not of a ham-fisted sort. It’s fine, but nothing special or surprising.
Three stars.
by Jason Sacks
The Sky is Filled with Ships by Richard C. Meredith
It's the year 979 of the Federation, or the year 3493 in the old calendar. Captain Robert T. Janas of the Solar Trading Company, Terran by birth and starman by occupation, is journeying back to his home planet at a time Terra is in great peril.
The Federation, long bloated and often brutal, is facing a massive rebellion among its vast and angry colonies. A truly titanic armada of thousands of warships from hundreds of solar systems is streaming to Earth via subspace wormholes to gain freedom for the colonies. Janas knows the defense of his home planet will be a futile gesture. There is no possible way even the enormous Terran space fleet can overcome the overwhelming odds and passions of the furious rebels and their massively armed fleet.
Janas knows, too, that a victory by the rebels will spiral mankind down to a new dark ages, just as brutal and destructive as that of Europe after the fall of Rome. Only Janas has the insight and plan to preserve a smidgen of the wisdom — not by saving Terra but by making the Solar Trading Company one of the few institutions to survive and preserve galactic knowledge.
I'm not familiar with the fiction of Richard C. Meredith, but I'm curious to read more by him based on this book. I was pretty intrigued by lead character Janas, who has a nice kind of fish-out-of-water feel to him as he wanders around Earth. That alienation presents a clever, illuminating aspect of the character. I enjoyed having a protagonist who is both a highly self-assured man and who also feels uncomfortable at times due to certain aspects of Earth's culture.
For instance, there's a slightly poignant feel to his annoyance at Earth fashions- like a colonial returned to his home only to find it dramatically different from the place he left. Janas is a stiff military man on a planet where the men dress like harlequins and the women wear fashions which leave them bare-breasted and proud.
But all that discomfort contrasts with the depiction of Janas as a man of action. Like a classic sci-fi hero, Janas brings his own plans and friends to the office of Al Franken, leader of the STC but too blinded by his own hubris to understand he is the problem. Captain Janas literally drags Franken into a plot which will ensure the fall of the ruling Franken family and the survival of Janas's beloved STC.
Meredith adroitly alternates chapters of this palace intrigue with scenes of the armada flying through subspace and showing the massive devastation which the rebel fleet creates on its journey. Those invasion scenes have a breathless, telegraphical quality to them which convey a massive sense of urgency.
As the book winds up, Meredith also does a clever thing: in late chapters he shows brief snippets of events all around the planet Earth as the reality of the Terran apocalypse become clear. In East Asia an angry mob kills their governor and his whole family; in Australia, a cult climb a mountain and await their ends; a rural farmer stands at his barn door, shotgun in hand, waiting to do his small part.
Mr Meredith in his younger days
Mr. Meredith, just over the age of 30, has created a clever and fun novel. There are points in which The Sky is Filled with Ships reads like a pretty standard potboiler sci-fi actioner, with square-chinned heroes fighting for noble causes. In that way it feels a bit of a throwback to the golden John W. Campbell days.
But I appreciated how the actions of our hero were focused on preserving society, which gave him a nobility which stood out on the page. As well, the scenes of oncoming invasion are exciting and had me quickly turning the pages.
I finished this relatively slim novel in one night. And though Meredith is no John Brunner, Philip K. Dick, or Harlan Ellison, he makes no effort to create literary science fiction with this novel. The Sky is Filled with Ships achieves what Meredith set out to create: an intriguing, exciting novel which will make me seek out some of his shorter fiction while I wait for the next thrilling novel by him.
This is the fifth in a series of novels under the collective title of Children of Violence. The others are Martha Quest (1952), A Proper Marriage (1954), A Ripple from the Storm (1958), and Landlocked (1965). I haven't read the others.
A little research reveals that they all deal with Martha, the child of British parents working on a farm in colonial Africa. She's born in about 1920. The four novels all take place in southern Africa. As a teenager, Martha leaves home to work in a city. As the years go by, she is married and divorced and married again. She has a daughter whom she leaves in the care of others. She becomes involved in leftwing politics.
None of the earlier books have speculative elements. The newest one is different. At well over six hundred pages, it's also roughly twice as long as any of the previous volumes.
The sheer length and the very large number of characters and incidents make it difficult to offer a brief summary. I'll do what I can. Keep in mind that I'm leaving out the vast majority of the content of this massive novel.
Martha is now in London in about 1950. She gets a job as a secretary/housekeeper for a man who is married to a woman who is in and out of mental hospitals. She winds up living in the same household for many years, becoming involved with many other members of his family and their acquaintances.
Just to pick one example out of dozens, the man's brother is a scientist who defects to the Soviet Union. He leaves behind his wife and young son. The woman is a Jewish refugee from the Holocaust. When her husband leaves, she kills herself.
That's enough of a dramatic plot for a complete novel, but it only takes up a small portion of the book. Rather than attempt to relate any other events of equal importance, let me try to give you some idea of what the novel is like as a whole. Taking my inspiration from its title, I'll consider it as four different kinds of book in one.
Psychological Novel
Much of the text consists of Martha's interior monologues. She often looks at herself as if she were an outsider. At times, she withdraws from the rest of the world and spends time in a meditative, introspective state.
Novel of Character
Although Martha is the most important character, we also spend a great deal of time with lots of other people. In one section, the point of view shifts to Martha's elderly mother, who leaves Africa in order to visit her daughter. All the secondary characters are described in detail. There are so many of them that I sometimes lost track of who was related to whom. A dramatis personae for this book would take up several pages.
Social Novel
A large number of social and political issues come up in the novel. Just off the top of my head, these include Communism and anti-Communism, psychiatry, post-war austerity evolving into 1960's hedonism, the youth movement, the relationship between the sexes, the media, the environment, the military, espionage, homosexuality, colonialism and anti-colonialism, and economics. At times the novel resembles a series of debates.
Science Fiction Novel
You were wondering when I'd get to that! They take a while to show up, but speculative themes eventually make an appearance. The novel suggests that people diagnosed as schizophrenic are actually clairvoyant and telepathic. They are treated as mentally ill because they have visions and hear voices.
More to the point, the book's lengthy appendix consists of documents, mostly letters from Martha and other characters, describing how the United Kingdom and other parts of the world are devastated by what seems to be a combination of pollution, accidental release of nerve gas, plague, and radiation from nuclear weapons. Martha ends up with a small number of survivors on a tiny island. In true science fiction fashion, children born there have highly developed psychic powers.
Giving this book a rating is very difficult. Some people are going to hate it, and find slogging through very long sentences and paragraphs that go on for a page or more not worth the effort. Others will consider it to be a major literary achievement of great ambition.
I have very mixed feelings. At times I found it highly insightful; at other times I found it tedious.
Three stars, for lack of a better way to rate it.
by Cora Buhlert
A Five and Dime James Bond: Zero Cool by John Lange
This weekend, I attended a convention in the city of Neuss in the Rhineland. Luckily, West Germany has an excellent network of highways, the famous Autobahnen, so the three and a half hour trip was quite pleasant.
I left at dawn and took the opportunity to have breakfast at the brand-new service station Dammer Berge. Service stations are not exactly uncommon – you can find them roughly every fifty to sixty kilometers along the Germany's Autobahnen. There's always a parking lot, a gas station, a small shop, a restaurant and sometimes a motel, housed in fairly unremarkable buildings on either side of the highway.
Dammer Berge, however, is different. Billed as the service station of the future, the restaurant is a concrete bridge which spans the highway, held up by two steel pylons. The structure is spectacular, a beacon of modernism, though sadly the food itself was rather lacklustre: a cup of coffee that tasted of the soap used to clean the machine and a slice of stale apple cake.
But I'm not here to talk about architecture or food, but about books. Now the trusty paperback spinner rack at my local import bookstore does not hold solely science fiction and fantasy. There is also a motley mix of gothic romances, murder mysteries and thrillers available. And whenever the science fiction and fantasy selection on offer does not seem promising, I reach for one of those other genres. This is how I discovered John Lange, a thriller author whose novel Easy Go I read last year and enjoyed very much. So when I spotted a new John Lange novel named Zero Cool in that spinner rack, I of course picked it up.
Zero Cool starts with Peter Ross, an American radiologist who's supposed to present a paper at a medical conference in Barcelona. And since he's already in Spain, Ross plans to take the opportunity for a holiday on the nearby Costa Brava in the seaside resort of Tossa de Mar.
One of John Lange's greatest strengths is his atmospheric descriptions. His skills are on full display in Zero Cool in the descriptions of the rugged Costa Brava with its picturesque fishing villages turned holiday destination for package tourists from all over Europe. It's obvious that Lange has visited Spain in general and the Costa Brava in particular.
That doesn't mean that Lange doesn't take poetic licence. And so his protagonist Peter Ross notes that the beaches of the Costa Brava are full of beautiful women in bikinis with nary a man in sight. As someone who has actually visited said beaches, I can assure you that this isn't true. Like anywhere on the Mediterranean coast, the beaches of Tossa de Mar contain a motley mix of old and young, of men, women and children, of attractive and not so attractive bodies. And yes, there are women in bikinis, too. Ross has holiday fling with one of them, a British stewardess named Angela.
But in spite of what the cover may imply, Zero Cool is not a romance set in an exotic location, but a thriller. And so Ross finds himself accosted on the beach by a man who begs him not to do the autopsy or he will surely die. Ross is bemused—what autopsy? In any event, he is on vacation and besides, he's a radiologist, not a pathologist, dammit.
Not long after this encounter, Ross is approached by four men in black suits who could not seem more like gangsters if they wore signs saying "The Mob" 'round their necks. The men want Ross to perform – you guessed it – an autopsy on their deceased brother, so his body can be repatriated to the US. Ross protests that he is a radiologist, not a pathologist, but the men are very insistent. They offer Ross a lot of money and also threaten to kill him if he refuses.
In the end, Ross does perform the autopsy – not that he has any choice, because he is abducted at gunpoint. To no one's surprise, the four gangsters from central casting are not all that interested in how their alleged brother died, but want Ross to hide a package inside the body. Once again, Ross complies, since finding himself on the wrong end of a gun is very persuasive.
Up to now, Zero Cool seems to be a fairly routine thriller about an everyman who gets entangled in a criminal enterprise. But the novel takes a turn for the weird, when the body vanishes and people start dying horribly, mutilated beyond recognition. Ross not only finds himself a murder suspect – in a country which still garrottes convicted criminals – but other parties also show an interest in the missing body and the mysterious package inside. These other parties include Tex, a cartoonish Texan in a ten gallon hat, the Professor, a bald man who uses mathematics to predict the future and is basically Hari Seldon, if Hari had applied his skills to crime rather than to trying to save humanity from the dark ages, and – last but not least – the Count, a Spanish nobleman with dwarfism, who collects perfume bottles and lives in a castle with a mute butler, a flock of murderous falcons and a Doberman named Franco.
With its exotic locales (well, for Americans at least, since for West Germans the Costa Brava no longer feels all that exotic, when you can book a flight there via the Neckermann mail order catalogue), beautiful but duplicitous women and colourful villains, Zero Cool feels more like a James Bond adventure than a serious thriller. As for the mystery package, it doesn't contain anything as mundane as drugs (which was my initial suspicion), but a priceless emerald stolen by the Spanish conquistadores in Mexico. It all culminates in a showdown at the Alhambra palace in Granada, where Ross finds himself dodging bullets, poison gas and the razor-sharp talons of the Count's murder falcons.
It's all a lot of fun, though it still pales in comparison to the James Bond novels and films, which Zero Cool is clearly trying to emulate. Because unlike the suave agent on her majesty's secret service, Peter Ross just isn't very interesting. He literally is an everyman, an American doctor – and note that John Lange is the pen name used by a student at Harvard medical school who is financing his studies by writing thrillers – bouncing around Spain and France. In fact, Ross is probably the least interesting character in the whole novel. Furthermore, the fact that Ross is a radiologist, though constantly brought up, contributes nothing to the resolution. He might just as well have been a paediatrician or a gynaecologist or any other type of doctor for all it matters.
But even a lesser effort by John Lange is still better than most other thrillers in the paperback spinner rack. If John Lange becomes as good a doctor as he's a writer, his patients will be very lucky indeed.
An outrageous adventure. Three and a half stars.
(As mentioned above, John Lange is a pen name. However, I have it on good authority that his real name is "Michael Crichton" and that he has just published a science fiction novel under that byline. I haven't yet read it, but my colleague Joe has, so check out his review.)
The story begins in the town of Piedmont, Arizona, in the United States. It’s a pretty unremarkable town, with one small exception: just about everyone in the town is lying dead in the street, all except for two men who traveled to Piedmont to recover some lost government property and an odd figure in the town of corpses who happens to be walking their way. Upon the apparent death of the two men, an investigation gets underway, ultimately led by a clandestine government group called Project Wildfire.
Project Wildfire is the brainchild of Dr. Jeremy Stone, a bacteriologist possessing so many awards and degrees that the story paints him as a modern-day Da Vinci, a man above men. His team includes Dr. Charles Burton, a pathologist; Dr. Mark Hall, a surgeon, and the only unmarried man on the team—the odd man as the story puts it; and lastly, Dr. Peter Leavitt, a microbiologist. The four men quickly fall into their roles as they uncover the cause of whatever killed an entire town full of people in one night and try to prevent it from spreading.
They do this working out of a secure, state-of-the-art research facility with a list of protocols to prevent the escape of diseases, viruses, and other deadly pathogens, longer than a football field. Part of the appeal of the story is the detailed descriptions of all the computers, machines, and medical facilities that the four doctors use in their quest. Crichton’s depiction of even the smallest details of the workings of every inch of the Wildfire facility give a grounded feel not only to the base but to the descriptions he provides of the microorganism at the heart of this story: the Andromeda Strain itself. Crichton beautifully has his characters follow the scientific method we all learned in grade school, as Stone and the others start with observation, then move to hypothesis, then experimentation. Every solution in the book is arrived at through the efforts of brilliant men under tremendous pressure. It is truly exciting to witness them work as each discovery and dead end leads to new discoveries and new dangers.
The pacing of The Andromeda Strain felt fitting to me. I never felt as if I was waiting for something to happen. Each scene in every chapter was packed with purpose and direction, each page wasted no space. Every character had a job to do, and each was one of the best in the world at that job. Regarding the characterizations, although the story is set in modern times, these men often felt as if they were the stoic men of bronze from 1950’s serials. The characters felt dated, but the problems they tackled were quite modern.
By the end of the book, the characters and the circumstances reached a good stopping point. The object of worry, the Andromeda Strain itself, proved a challenge that had taxed the heroes of the story to their very limits. Some issues are addressed, and others are left unresolved. In my own zeal for the story, I’ve taken great pains to avoid revealing too much of the plot. It is best experienced in real time. All I can say is that the journey this book takes you on is worth the time investment. It’s a stellar read.
But not a perfect one. This is a story that begins with the end in mind. With all the truly amazing events that unfold in the book, what stands out most are the constant reminders from the narrator that the story was already over. This was my first time reading a book written by Mr. Crichton. I don’t know if he employs this technique in his other works, but I would have preferred that he kept his internal monologuing to himself. In one instance, a character forgets to replicate an action that he had performed on some lab rats. Narrator: “Later we learned that was a mistake.” In another, a character makes assumptions about a biological process. Narrator: “That action wasted days of our time.” The narrator frequently shares tidbits of the future, a narrative tool I would call “Poor Man's Foreshadowing.” The Andromeda Strain is such an engaging and suspenseful tale that I wished to remain in the present throughout my reading without Crichton yanking me out of it, offering glimpses of a future I wanted to reach without shortcuts.
That minor gripe aside, The Andromeda Strain by Michael Crichton is a thrilling mystery with high stakes. It is the kind of fact-based science fiction that I enjoy the most.
My crowd can't decide what to take this semester, but we've narrowed it down to the administration building and the library.
~Judy Carne on Laugh-In
Last Spring, students and Afro-Americans formed an uneasy alliance at Columbia University, taking over multiple buildings in pursuit of several disparate aims. Black students and denizens of the neighborhoods surrounding the campus fought against the school annexing public spaces (specifically, the building of the new Columbia gymnasium in Morningside Park). Other students rallied against Columbia's doing research for the defense department—essentially an inside raid against the Vietnam War.
After assembling to protest, radicals managed to seize five campus buildings, where they squatted for nearly a week before New York's finest, the boys in blue, dismantled the makeshift furniture barricades one by one and dragged the occupiers to the paddy wagons.
This did not end the struggle—thousands of students boycotted classes in May, and Columbia President Kirk resigned in June after giving in to pressure not to press charges against the protesters. Hundreds of students due to graduate that month held their own, unofficial commencement on Low Plaza, in front of the Low Library—scene of clashes in the early stages of the occupation.
Last June, the Columbia Sentinel published a game delightfully titled, Up Against the Wall, Motherfucker!, inspired by a phrase uttered more than once throughout the event, sometimes in official channels. One of the game's authors is Jim Dunnigan, who wargamers will recognize as the fellow who wrote Jutland for the wargame company, Avalon Hill. The other is "Jerry Avorn", a name that is unfamiliar to me.
In 1961, I got myself a television. Not just any television—I went straight to a color set (an RCA), even as hardly anyone in the nation owned one. Heck, we still had stations that weren't broadcasting in color yet. I think NBC is the only one I can remember that touted its weekly day of color programming.
Anyway, I made up for lost time, watching a lot of (too much) television. I quickly came to agree with then-FCC commissioner Newton Minow's assessment of visual broadcast. He described it as "a vast wasteland."
Still, I found some worthy shows, and back in 1962, I put out a guide to the good shows on television at the time. In 1965, I came out with a sequel.
Why haven't I published a TV guide since? Well part of it is because we've given focus to individual shows. For instance, our Star Trek coverage has been very thorough. Janice wrote about The Green Hornet in 1967. Last year, our UK friends watched The Prisoner, which made a big splash when it hit American shores last summer. Also, Victoria Silverwolf covered the spy craze back in 1966, and that included a lot of TV shows, some of which are still on.
Nevertheless, as we head into the rerun season this year, it's a good time to look back on what's sprouted in the wasteland since our last update. After all, while some of the shows have since gone off the air, or are about to, you'll still get to catch them (often at more convenient times) in syndication.
Star Trek (1966-1969)
Obviously, this is the biggie. Star Trek was (well, there's one more episode to be aired, so technically "is") the first real science fiction series on television. Sure, there was kiddie fare before that, like Space Patrol (both the Corn Flakes-sponsored one and the puppet import from the UK) and Man in Space, not to mention (please don't mention) the profusion of Irwin Allen shows starting with Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea through Lost in Space to Time Tunnel and still going with Land of the Giants.
And yes, The Twilight Zone had SFnal episodes, and The Outer Limits was more explicitly sci-fi, but both shows were mostly inspired by the pulp era, the science fiction content primitive in the extreme.
Star Trek, for all its faults, derived from the science fiction of the '40s and '50s while spotlighting some of the social issues of today. The Enterprise essentially flew out of the pages of classic Astounding—which makes sense; Gene Roddenberry said as much to one of our friends at the 1966 Worldcon. We even had bonafide SF authors like Norman Spinrad, Robert Bloch, Jerome Bixby, Harlan Ellison, and Ted Sturgeon writing episodes…though the practice of soliciting pros quickly stopped when they began demanding too much money. Luckily, many of Trek's best episodes were written by newcomers. Indeed, one of the more gratifying things about the show has been that is has helped launch the careers of a number of women writers, Jean Lisette Aroeste and D.C. (Dorothy) Fontana being the names that immediately come to mind.
So even though the show is cruising toward a premature end of its five year mission, it is a must see when it inevitably gets rerun after this summer.
Mod Squad (1968-)
“One black, one white, one blonde”
If any show has heralded a sea change on the boob tube, it's Mod Squad. Cop shows have been a dime a dozen for a long time. Highway Patrol, 87th Precinct, Dragnet, Felony Squad, The F.B.I., Ironside, N.Y.P.D.—even Car 54, Where Are You? (admittedly, that one was a comedy). Indeed, shows about the police are starting to rival Westerns in terms of airtime dominance. Just this year, we got three of them: Hawaii Five-O, Adam 12, and the subject of this section.
But whereas the only distinguishing characteristic of the first one is its location (beautiful Hawai'i), and the second one is as bad as a patrol cop show from the makers of Dragnet and starring that program's worst guest actor could be, Mod Squad is Something Else.
Mod Squad is the story of three young adults, all with minor criminal rap sheets, all who decide to become undercover cops rather than do time. They quickly form a bond with each other and with their Captain, Adam Greer. Over the course of the season, they have busted narcotics rings, carjackers, helped nab corrupt cops, and otherwise proven their value to the force.
The difference? Heart. Mod Squad is oozing heart, with genuine chemistry amongst all the four leads. The cops in the other shows tend to be portrayed as benevolent(?) automatons. Pete, Julie, and Linc (and Adam) are human beings—compelling, vulnerable, admirable.
Beyond that, there's been a quantum leap in production. Everything in Mod Squad is on location, with mobile cameras and lots of action. Car chases, foot races, you name it. The show bursts with energy. Its lineage traces from the hip globetrotting of I, Spy and the philosophical earthiness and camaraderie of Route 66, and oft times, it surpasses both shows.
Watch it. Dig it. This one's going to be around a while, I predict.
The Monkees (1966-1968)
Debuting at the same time as Star Trek and on the same network, The Monkees flamed out more quickly. No surprise—comedy is hard to maintain, especially the kind of frenetic, innovative stuff you saw on that show. Beyond that, when you make a show about four charismatic musicians, you run the risk of said musicians actually having talent and wanting to do their own thing. No matter what the papers or the sneering cognoscenti say, The Monkees are all pretty talented people. After all, Peter Tork is an accomplished guitarist and folk singer, Mike Nesmith has penned a dozen hit songs (and not just for himself), and Micky and Davy are both decent performers as well as skilled actors.
It's no surprise that the show went off the rails, and then The Monkees demolished it entirely with their deconstructive movie, Head (not to mention their freak-out of a TV special: 33 1/3 Revolutions Per Monkee).
But if you get a chance to catch the show in rerun, it's worth it. It's genuinely funny, the musical interludes feature complete songs (get your tape deck ready!), the songs are excellent, and the foursome has magical chemistry. When they are a foursome—for some reason, Mike was on vacation for about a fifth of the episodes…
Laugh-In (1968-)
Speaking of successful comedy, it's hard to miss NBC's smashiest of smashes, the psychedelic, wild ride that is Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In. We've covered the show previously, so I won't go into too much detail. I will note that the program has evolved in the two years it's been on the air. This year, we got several new performers: Dave Madden, whose shtick is tossing confetti to signify he's having dirty thoughts; Chelsea Brown…The Black One (I hope they broaden her role next year); Alan Souse…The Homosexual (I hope they broaden his role next year).
It is impossible to understate the influence the show has had on pop culture. From "Here Come the Judge" to "Sock it To Me" to "Very Interesting", Laugh-In-isms are everywhere. On the last Bob Hope special, we counted three or four clear references to the show. Arte Johnson is doing Mustang commercials—in his Nazi persona (at least he's not shilling for Volkswagen). Half the cast guest starred (as themselves) on I Dream of Jeannie. Every week, you can see at least one of the team on some variety/talk show or another.
It is a very funny show, and hosts Dick and Dan have a natural rapport. Beyond that, the cast manage to come up with unique musical numbers every week, which is amazing. The women performers, in particular, are amazingly talented.
There are some warning signs: since Nixon got elected, perhaps with Laugh-In's help—Tricky Dick had a cameo earlier this year: "Sock it to me?" he exclaimed stiltedly—the show has tacked rightward in its commentary. In the last episode, the Reverend Billy Graham was the special guest, making rather unfunny jokes, and ending the show with a straightfaced endorsement of John 3:16. I'm not sure if Arte Johnson (in full Wehrmacht regalia) agreeing with the sentiment was intended to be ironic or not.
On the other hand, at least the show isn't as sexist as it used to be. The worst of that last season was when they had Cher Bono as a guest, and the musical number was about grasping wives. If anyone's the grasping wife in the Bono clan, it's Sonny.
Anyway, I don't need to tell you to watch it. You probably already are. Let's hope next season is even better.
Hollywood Palace (1964-)
When I was a very young, Vaudeville was king. Live song and dance—forget this radio and television jazz. Well, ABC's Hollywood Palace, put on in the building of the same name owned by none other than Bing Crosby, is the closest you'll get to the old Vaudeville days. Comedy, acrobatics, singing, magic…the works. All live (but taped).
Every week, there's a different host (Bing always claims the first and last nights for himself). Sometimes they're terrific, like the times Sammy Davis Jr. gets the job; sometimes we get Burl Ives. I'd say the show is pitched mainly at folks of my generation, maybe a touch older. The jokes, the guests, most were big a decade or two ago. That said, the Palace keeps things hip with acts like the Supremes and Gladys Knight. It's definitely not Lawrence Welk (for my parents), nor is it American Bandstand (for my kids).
Lorelei and I have been regular watchers of the show ever since we heard Tony Randall hosted it once. We're grateful it's had such longevity.
The Carol Burnett Show (1968-)
If you took Laugh-In and Hollywood Palace and shmushed them together, you'd get The Carol Burnett Show. Less frenetic than Laugh-In, but hipper than the Palace, it's a bit like if the latter show had just one host the whole time. Carol starts out each show with a question an answer segment that feels genuine and unrehearsed. The musical acts are a mix of looped and live performances. The skits range from domestic comedy to fractured fairy tales, utilizing the supporting cast of the prissy Harvey Korman, the hunky Lyle Waggoner, the adorable Vicki Lawrence (who usually plays Carol's sister; I'm amazed they aren't related), and whomever is guest this week.
It's a terrific show, and Carol is an excellent host. If I have any complaint, it's that the family skits play a little too hard into the marital discord bit. Also, as much as I love Ms. Burnett, eventually you can get too much of a good thing—week after week, skit after skit.
Still, definitely in the upper tiers of television!
That's Life (1968-1969)
Remember how I marveled that Laugh-In manages to produce a new musical number or two each week? Well That's Life tried to make a romantic sitcom that was a complete, hour-long musical on the same schedule!
Robert E. Morse (How to Succeed at Business Without Really Trying) and E.J. Peaker starred in a whirlwind tour of courtship, marriage, and family as they sang and danced through their lives. Each episode had a coterie of special guests (of course, our favorite was Tony Randall), and the whole thing was funny and fast-paced.
Well, you knew it couldn't last. After one season, it's gone. And having only gone on one season, it's likely we'll never see it in syndication. ¡Qué lastima!
Wild Kingdom (1963-)
One show that shows no sign of quitting is Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom. Hosted by the Director Emeritus of the St. Louis Zoo, Marlin Perkins, this is quite simply the coolest nature program to be found. We get a new half-season at the beginning of every year. Marlin opens up each episode with a bit of in-studio discussion, often partnering with one of his fellow rangers (usually Jim, but occasionally Stan Brock, the South African mountain) and W.K., the chimpanzee.
Then it's off to the field: either a prerecorded feature narrated by someone else, or footage from a real safari that Marlin has gone on. Usually the latter involves tracking an endangered animal or rescuing some creature for scientific study. Marlin is no joke—at age 60+, you can still find him netting lions or sleep-darting elephants. Of course, Marlin doesn't hold a candle to Stan wrestling hippopotami or saving drowned calves.
I'm sure some of the editing is artfully done for drama, but it's still a great show, emphasizing the importance of preserving the natural abundance to be found in the Wild Kingdom.
Since this article is running long, I shan't bother listing the shows not worth watching. I won't even mention the C+ and B- television that I won't flip the idiot box off for, but which aren't worth seeking out. With just the shows I've recommended, you'll have plenty to watch out for!
If you're anything like me, Peyton Place is something that happened to other people. After all, last season, the first primetime soap opera was scheduled opposite Laugh In, and before that, the 9:30 PM slot in the midst of ABC's insipid Tuesday-night line-up.
But now I feel a little bad that the groundbreaking show is being taken off the air. Based on the 1956 book of the same name by Grace Metalious, the Massachusetts-set serial was salacious for the time, involving as it did a lot of S-E-X, divorce, blackmail, murder, and more. Jack Paar called it "Television's first situation orgy." Johnny Carson quipped that it was "the first TV series delivered in a plain wrapper."
Stars Diana Hyland (standing), Pat Morrow (in can), and Tippy Walker
At one point a few years ago, some 60 million folks tuned in each week for the fun. But nowadays, when the local theater is going blue/stag, and Candy is a mainstream hit ("Is Candy faithful? Only to the book!"), Peyton Place all seems a bit staid. They tried to mix things up by bringing in more teen storylines and also integrating the cast by hiring Percy Rodrigues (Star Trek's Commodore Stone) as the local doctor.
with Ryan O'Neal
Still, you can't beat Dick and Dan, and the series plummetted in the ratings (really—what were they thinking, scheduling it across from Rowan and Martin?) After 514 episodes, the show is going off the air. Which, of course, just means we'll see it endlessly in morning reruns opposite the regular soaps—and you can bet we'll get a revival sometime in the future. In the meantime…
"Goodnight, Lucy. Goodnight, Marshall Dillon. And goodnight to all you kooks on Peyton Place."
Goodnight, Johnny
by Kelly Freas
ABC at least knew when to pull the plug on its sinking stone. Analog editor John Campbell, while he did some brilliant work in the '30s and '40s, seems content to stuff his magazine with the dullest dreck that science fiction has to offer. The latest issue is Exhibit 1 for the prosecution:
Dragon's Teeth, by M. R. Anver
by Kelly Freas
A peace conference on a neutral asteroid promises to end a brutal war between humanity and the alien Cadosians. But a faction of extraterrestrials has plans to distrupt the summit by introducing a deadly virus. The question is how they'll smuggle it in…or in whom?
This is a competently put together adventure/mystery—no more, and no less. As such, it's a fine first effort from Mr. Anver, but nothing to write home about.
Three stars.
The Chemistry of a Coral Reef, by Theodore L. Thomas
Science writer and fictioneer Ted Thomas offers up a long piece on coral reefs and how they're made. For an article on stuff that takes place in our oceans, it's awfully dry. Well, at least I know now what they're made of: calcium carbonate. Good for all those fish with indigestion, I guess.
Two stars.
Operation M. I., by R. Hamblen
by Leo Summers
Three weeks of hyperspace are crushingly dull, and the intergalactic service is worried about the morale of their solo couriers, who have to endure the period without diversion. Apparently, books and booze aren't enough.
So the ship's computer on the latest FTL ship is programmed to act like a nagging mother-in-law so each pilot is more irritated than bored.
Terrible piece. One star.
Persistence, by Joseph P. Martino
by Kelly Freas
This is a sequel to the story Secret Weapon. The Terrans have now got a leg up on their war with the Arcani, now destroying 3-4x as many vessels as they are losing. However, this proportion is still below what the Big Brains in military intelligence expected. Our hero, Commander William Marshall, is certain that the aliens have developed Faster Than Light ("C+") communications and are using them to thwart our patrols.
The story is devoted to the reverse engineering of a captured Arcani corvette, tediously going through each electronic gizmo to see how it is wired and what it is wired to. Eventually, the existence (or lack) of a C+ radio will be proven.
Once again, the story is dull as dirt, and worse, poorly edited. There's an art to writing successive paragraphs using different words. Martino will repeat set phrases several times in a row, the sign of an unfiltered brain-to-typewriter stream of consciousness.
Also, women of the future still remain in the 1950's, socially.
As we saw last month, Rex Bader, last of the private dicks in the People's Capitalism of America's late 20th Century, had been tapped by no fewer than five organizations to spy on each other as Bader went off to Eastern Europe and make contacts. This passage explains it all:
He stared at the screen in disbelief.
This whole thing was developing into a farce. Roget wanted him to make an ultra-hush-hush trip into the Soviet Complex to contact his equal numbers with the eventual aim of creating a world government based on the international corporations.
Sophia Anastasis, of International Diversified industries, thought such a world government would upset the status quo to the detriment of what was once called the Mafia, and wanted all details.
John Coolidge and his group [the successor to the FBI] were afraid such changes would upset the governmental bureaucracy and the military machine and wanted to prevent it from happening.
Colonel Simonov felt the same from the Soviet viewpoint, and wanted to maintain the status quo.
Dave Zimmerman was all in favor of world government but wanted the Meritocracy which would run it to be elected from the bottom up in each corporation, rather than being appointed.
And every damned one of them thought that their part of the operation was a secret.
Once Bader gets to Czechslovakia and Romania, the book reads like typical Reynolds: historical parallels (none after 1969, of course), tourism (we learn about the national drinks of the Warsaw Pact), and mildly droll high jinks. It seems that Bader's cover is blown wherever he goes, suggesting a traitor somewhere in the works among his five employers.
There could have been a good mystery here, but it's all thrown in too little, too late. Moreover, it's clear that this two-part serial is really just the first half of a longer book.
As a result, the whole is lesser than the sum of its parts. I give this segment three stars, and three stars for the book as a whole (so far).
The Eridanians are coming! Responding from signals broadcast by Project Ozma, an alien ship has been dispatched from Epsilon Eridani. After twelve years at near light speed, the vessel is about to arrive—and the press is filled with concerns of an impending alien takeover.
It all stems from a mistranslation of their latest message, suggesting their intent is conquest rather than coexistence. In the meantime, there is a lot of Keystone Copping as the head of the Ozma IX project tries to tamp down on the paranoia.
by Kelly Freas
The best part of the story is the "universal message" broadcast by the Eridanians, hatched up by author Chapdelaine. He explains it in the story—see if you can figure it out yourself.
But in the end, the story is rather pointless and forgettable. Two stars.
Goodnight May
Doing the math, I find that April (postmarked May on the magazines) was a dreadful month for short science fiction. Not a single magazine topped 3 stars, and Analog came in at a dismal 2.3. For posterity, the rest were New Worlds (2.7), Venture (2.7), Amazing (2), Galaxy (3), and IF (3), and Fantasy and Science Fiction (2.7)
Even more disheartening: you could take all the 4-star works (nothing hit 5 stars this month) and barely fill a Galaxy-sized thick digest. Women wrote 20% of all the new pieces published in April, which sounds impressive until you realize that six of the works were short poems in New Worlds, all by Libby Houston.
I am already hearing rumblings about Galaxy and IF's editor Fred Pohl getting the heave-ho, and Amazing's editorial musical chairs is legendary. ABC dumped Peyton Place—is it time for someone to cancel John Campbell?
The end may be near for the nascent would-be-state of Biafra. For two years, the Nigerian breakaway has seen its land systematically (re)taken, and the eight million Biafrans, mostly Ibo people, have been crammed into ever small regions under Biafran control—just 3,000 out of an original 29,000 square miles.
Starvation rages, killing more than gunfire. Yet the Biafrans remain unbowed, converting diesel generators to run on crude petroleum, keeping churches open (at night, anyway), and getting food via threatened air strips.
But on the 22nd, the capital and last Biafran city, Umuahia, fell to Nigerian forces. Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu, President of Biafra, has vowed he will continue the struggle in guerrilla fashion. Only Gabon, Haiti, Ivory Coast, Tanzania, and Zambia have recognized the secessionist state, although tacit assistance has been provided by such diverse states as France, Spain, Portugal, Norway, and Czechoslovakia.
At this point, it's hard to imagine the Biafran experiment succeeding. But surely there must be more that we can do apart from watch helplessly. I wish I knew what it was. Support the Red Cross, I suppose.
Impending mediocrity
I don't have a great segue from that bummer of a news item. All I have is the lastest issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction. While it's not entirely unworthy (the opening serial is pretty good), the rest offers little respite from the bleakness of the real world:
Back in the '50s, Poul had a great series that took place on a parallel Earth. Its history was not dissimilar to ours, but wizardry replaces technology in many regards. It's a bit like Garrett's Lord D'Arcy series, but a touch sillier. The stars of the series are a magical duo comprising a werewolf and a magic-using dragoon Captain. In the latest story (a decade ago!) the two had gotten married. In the latest installment, Ginny and Steve are the proud parents of a beautiful little girl.
Unfortunately, Valeria Victrix has been born into a difficult time. Adherents of St. John, whose outwardly clement brand of Christianity hides disturbing cultist elements, are waging a war against authority and the military-industrial complex—including the defense contractor that employs Steve. The Johnnites are essentially stand-ins for the current peace movements, albeit more sinister.
The conflict with the less-than-civil resisters recedes in importance, however, when on her third birthday, Valeria is abducted by no less than the demonic forces of Hell. It is now up to Steve and Ginny to rescue their little girl before she is incurably corrupted…and to determine if the Johnnites are at all responsible!
Anderson has three main modes: crunchy, compelling science fiction; crunchy, dull-as-dirt science fiction; and lightish fantasy. This short novel, despite the dark subject matter, promises to be the most fun romp since Three Hearts and Three Lions.
Four stars so far.
The Beast of Mouryessa, by William C. Abeel
A French sculptor is commissioned to create a replica of an obscene, demonic figure, unearthed recently in the Avignon region. The original stone creature has a history of causing catastrophe to those who behold it, but the lovely matron who wants the copy seems unperturbed. Of course, the sculptor has all sorts of ill feelings and second thoughts, but he does nothing about them. In the end, he is possessed by the spirit of the thing, and awful stuff ensues.
Aside from all the sex and frequent references to the statue's enormous dong, this story is pretty old hat. Lovecraft did this kind of thing better.
Two stars.
by Gahan Wilson
London Melancholy, by M. John Harrison
A host of eerie mutants roam post-apocalyptic London in this absolutely impenetrable, unreadably purple piece.
One star.
For the Sake of Grace, by Suzette Haden Elgin
Thousands of years from now, Earth and its solar colonies have organized into a patriarchal, caste-based system. The Kadilh ban-Harihn has much cause for joy: four sons who have all passed the stringent test to become 4th degree members of the Poet caste. But he also has a hidden pain; his sister was one of the rare women to dare entry into the coveted ranks of the Poets. Her fate for failing was that of all women who fail—eternal solitary confinement.
'Unfair!' you cry? Well, at least it keeps women from trying such a foolhardy endeavor. Which is why it hits the Kadilh all the harder when he learns his youngest child, his only daughter, also has decided to try to be a Poet, a task of which she is most certainly incapable…
This is a scathing piece, a refreshing attack on sexism. I'd give it higher marks if it had included even one poem, given the theme, but I still quite liked it.
Four stars.
The Power of Progression, by Isaac Asimov
The Good Doctor explains why our current rate of population growth cannot go on—even if we manage to get off planet, that just means the universe will be clogged with humanity within the millennium.
I appreciate the doomsaying sentiment, but there comes a point when exponents become specious, a masturbatory effort in mathematics.
Three stars.
Copstate, by Ron Goulart
I used to like the tales of Ben Jolson, lead agent of the shapechanging Chameleon Corps, but they've gotten pretty tired of late. This last entry is the least. Ben is tapped to infiltrate a tightly controlled security state to retrieve a revolutionary polemic.
Goulart is capable of writing funny, light, riproaring stuff, but this one is just a bust.
Two stars.
The Flower Kid Cashes In, by George Malko
Item two in the cavalcade of anti-utopian incomprehensibility. Per a conversation I recently had with David and Kris:
Me: Can anyone explain the last story in this month's F&SF to me?
David: Not really. Aging hippie survives after the Bomb falls and sort of commits suicide by staying true to his priniciples? I think it was too concerned with being literary to mean something or be about anything.
Kris: I am not even sure if it is trying to be literary so much as "with it". But either way it seems very hollow.
Your guess is as good as mine. At least it's short. Two stars.
The Body Count
Comparing the lastest F&SF to the Biafran tragedy is probably beyond the realm of good taste. I'll just note that 2.7 stars is an inauspicious sign. However, given that the first few issues of the year were significantly better, I don't think this lapse foretells a permanent downturn.
At least some things are salvageable. See you next month.
There are few expressions as irritating to me as the oxymoronic "Modern Classic"…but I have to admit that the shoe sometimes fits.
Mario Puzo's third novel, The Godfather, came out last month, and I can't put it down. It's not a small book—some 446 pages—but those pages turn like no one's business. It's the story of Vito Corleone, a Sicilian who arrives in the country around the turn of the Century and slowly, but inexorably, becomes crime boss of Manhattan.
The Mafia has had a particular allure of late. LIFE just had a long bit on the recent death of Vito Genovese and the current scramble to replace him as head of the Genovese family. For those who want a (seemingly accurate) introduction to the underworld of organized crime, The Godfather makes a terrific primer.
Bloody, pornographic, blunt, but also detailed and even, in its own way, scholarly, The Godfather is a book you can't put down.
Which is a problem when you're supposed to get through a stack of science fiction magazines every month. Indeed, how is a somewhat long-in-the-tooth, middle-of-the-road mag like Galaxy, especially this latest issue, supposed to compete?
by Vaughn Bodé
Little Blue Hawk, by Sydney J. Van Scyoc
Imagine an America generations from now, after eugenics has gone awry. After some initial promising results, a significant number of humans became dramatically mutated, with profound physical and mental variations accompanied by even more pronounced neuroses. Over time, these mutants have mingled with baseline humans, spreading their traits.
This is the story of Kert Tahn, a wingless hawk of a man, who bears a weighty set of obsessions and compulsions, as well as a dandy case of synesthesia: to him, words are crystalline, shattering into dust and leaving a pall over everything. An urban "Special Person", plucked as an infant from one of the rural Special Person-only communities, he harbors a strong urge to fly, which is why he takes up a job as a hover-disc pilot, ferrying customers out into the hinterlands now reserved for the genetically modified. "Little Blue Hawk" is a series of encounters with a variety of more-or-less insane individuals, and how each helps him on his road to self-discovery.
by Reese
There are elements I really liked in this story. Though the causes of neuroses are genetic, it is clear Van Scyoc is making a statement—and an aspirational prediction—as to how mental illnesses might be accommodated rather than simply cured…or its sufferers tucked away. All Special Persons have the constitutional right to have their compulsions respected, and they are listed on a prominent medallion each of them wears. Of course, this leads to a mixture of both care by and disdain from the "normal" population.
I also thought that a set of neurotic compulsions actually makes for a dandy thumbnail sketch of an alien race—a set of traits that make no sense but are nevertheless consistent,
The problem with this story is simply that it's kind of dull and doesn't do much. I found myself taking breaks every five pages or so. With the Puzo constantly emanating its bullet-drenched sirensong, it was slow going, indeed.
Two stars.
The Open Secrets, by Larry Eisenberg
A fellow accidentally enters into his timeshare terminal the password for the FBI's internal files. Now that he has access to all the country's secrets, he becomes both extremely powerful…and extremely marked.
Frivolous, but not terrible. Two stars.
Star Dream, by Terry Carr and Alexei Panshin
On the eve of the flight of the first starship Gaea, its builder finds out why he was fired just before its completion. The answer takes some of the sting from being ejected from the vessel's crew.
This old-fashioned tale is rather mawkish and probably would have served better as the backbone of a juvenile novel, but it's not poorly written.
Three stars.
Coloured Element, by William Carlson and Alice Laurance
A new measles vaccine is dumped willy-nilly into the water supply, not for its salutory benefits, but for a side effect—it turns everyone primary colors based on their blood type! Ham-handed social commentary is delivered in this rather slight piece.
Two stars.
Killerbot!, by Dean R. Koontz
The mindless, cybernetic monsters from Euro are on the rampage in Nortamer, and it's up to the local law enforcement to dispatch the latest killer. The new model has got a twist—human cunning. But when the monster is taken down, the revelation is enough to rock society.
What seems like a rather pointless exercise in violent adventure turns out to be (I think) a commentary on the recent rash of gun violence—from the murder of JFK to the Austin tower shootings. It's not a terrific piece, but I appreciate what it's trying to do.
Three stars.
For Your Information: Max Valier and the Rocket-Propelled Airplane, by Willy Ley
I was just giving a lecture on rocketry pioneers at the local university the other day, and Max Valier was one of the notables I mentioned. Of course, I assumed from the name that he was French. He was not. That fact, and many others, can be found in this fascinating piece by Willy Ley on a man most associated with the rocket car that killed him.
The last man on Earth is Edwards James McHenry—better known by his DJ monicker, Jabber McAbber. Well, he's not actually on Earth; right before the calamity that ripped the planet asunder, a Howard Hughes look-alike ensconced him in an orbital trailer with a broadcaster, a thousand gallons of bourbon, and a record collection. Unbenownst to him, Ed also has a mechanical sidekick called Marty, a computer with colloquial intelligence.
Thus, while Ed more-or-less drunkenly transmits an unending, lonely monologue to the universe, Marty provides a broadcast counterpoint, explaining the subtext and background to Ed's plight and thoughts.
It all reads like something Harlan Ellison might have put together, a little less dirtily, perhaps. Hip and readable. Four stars.
At last, we reach the action-packed conclusion of this three-part serial. All the pieces are in motion: both Loki and 'Thor, immortal soldiers in an ages-long intergalactic war, who have been at each other's throats for 1200 years, are trudging through the rain for the runaway broadcast power facility on the Northeastern American seaboard.
As the Army tries and fails to bring the powerplant under control, the hurricane in the Atlantic intensifies. Meanwhile, we learn what the other unauthorized power-tapper is: none other than Loki's autonomous spaceship, Xix, which is charging its own batteries pending the unhatching of a terrible scheme. The climax of the novel is suitably climactic.
Laumer writes in two modes: satirical and deadly serious. And Now They Wake is firmly in the second camp, grim to the extreme. But it is also very human, very immediate, and, even with the graphic violence depicted, very engrossing. This is the closest I've seen Laumer come to Ted White's style, really engaging the senses such that you inhabit the bodies of the characters, but without an offputting degree of detail (even the gory bits are imaginative and non-repetitive.)
It's not a novel for the ages, and the tie-in to Norse mythology is a bit pat, but this is probably the best Laumer I've ever read, and the one piece that actually made me forget about The Godfather…for a few minutes, anyway.
Four stars.
Back to (un)reality
The first half of this month's Galaxy was certainly a slog, but at least the latter half kept my interest—if only I hadn't started from the end first! That's a bad habit I may have to overcome. I just like seeing the number of pages I have to read dwindle, and that gets easier to mark if you read in reverse order!
Anyway, the bottom line is that Pohl's mag will win no awards on the strength of this month's ish, but Puzo's book may very well. Pick up The Godfather right now…and maybe the Laumer when it's put into book form!
Well, this is exciting! For the first time ever, two identical Mariner probes are on their way to an interstellar destination. On March 27, Mariner 7 blasted off for Mars, joining its sister, Mariner 6, which was launched last month.
Normally, twin probes are launched for redundancy, and it's a good thing. Venus-boundMariner 1 died when its booster exploded back in '62. Mars-bound Mariner 3 never hatched from its egg (the shroud of its Atlas-Agena rocket) back in 1964. Mariner 5, which went to Venus in 1967, was a solo mission (indeed, a spare Mariner of the 3/4 class).
But now we've got two Mariners winging their way to the Red Planet, which means we'll get twice the coverage and a redundant set of data, always a welcome occurrence for scientists! We'll have more on them when they pass by Mars in July.
Mack ho!
by Kelly Freas
Just as we have two Mariners dominating the head of this article, so we have science fictioneer Mack Reynolds dominating this latest issue of Analog science fiction. Under his own name, and under his pseudonym "Guy McCord", more than half of this issue is a Reynolds contribution. If you like the guy, you'll like the mag. If not…
We once again return to the Reynolds' late 20th Century, where America languishes under the stratified People's Capitalism. This novel is also the second adventure of one of the last private detectives, Rex Bader (whose first job was just a couple of months ago. As with that freshman outing, Bader is offered a job that seems too good to be true, and he refuses, but no one else buys that he did.
In this case, the job was offered by the head of one of the world's biggest corporations. He wants Bader to go to cross the Iron Curtain to contact other corporation buffs so as to help take down the Meritocracy—the powers that be that have entrenched themselves in the highest levels of society.
The mob also contacts Bader, wanting him to be their double agent. Then the Defense Department gets involved. Finally, a group of latter-day Technocrats make their pitch. Presumably, the "fifth way" will be Rex Bader's own.
This book is typical Reynolds: the setting has been well established over the years, all the way back to the Joe Mauser, Mercenary days. There are historical dissertations woven in at every opportunity, mostly on early 20th Century political theory. The writing is serviceable, somewhat wry—a more grounded Keith Laumer.
What makes this particular piece stand out are the new wrinkles Reynolds introduces. First, this is the first time we've learned how elections work in this world: it's based on income—one vote for every dollar earned (investment income does not impart voting rights). Thus, the masses on "Negative Income Tax" have no franchise.
Reynolds continues to invent plausible future technology, too. My favorite is the pocket TV/phone/credit card/identity all citizens carry. A handy device, but also vulnerable to surveillance—which is done by computers which listen for key words; if they hear any, they alert a government agent.
So on the one hand, as far as quality of writing and enjoyment is concerned, I'd give this piece three stars. But I admire Reynolds for doing stuff few others do, so I'm actually awarding four.
Hey But No Presto, by Jack Wodhams
by Leo Summers
Folks are being snatched out of psionic teleportation booths as they try to go to Earth. They get sent to this backwater planetary resort where they are charged outrageous rates to stay in mediocre lodgings. They stay because the cost to go home is set even higher. An interstellar cop is sent to investigate.
This one-note tale is so padded, it could replace a warehouse of pillows. One star.
They're Trying to Tell Us Something (Part 2 of 2), by Thomas R. McDonough
Last month, Tom McDonough talked about pulsars—those rapidly beeping star-type objects—and did his darndest to convince us that they are artificial beacons operated by Little Green Men (LGM).
This second part is more of the same, though he actually does mention other possibilities, including the most fashionable one that they are rotating neutron stars. My problem with this segment is it is heavy on the layman's lingo and light on the showing of work. It all feels a bit fluffy. Also, he talks about how pulsars emit light bursts at twice the frequency as their radio bursts, and he makes it seem like that's mysterious. If the pulsar is really a rotating neutron star, then it makes sense for any emissions to be linked. Why we only get radio signals from one side, I don't understand off the top of my head, but I suspect anyone with a Bachelors in Physics could tell me.
Three stars.
Cultural Interference, by Walter L. Kleine
by Leo Summers
A couple of scientists begin an experiment with broadcast power. Coincidentally, a couple of extraterrestrial spaceships accidentally intercept and soak up the power, causing them to crash. Chaos ensues.
Wireless power seems to be the rage these days, figuring prominently in Keith Laumer's serial, And Now They Wake. This particular tale is overpadded and pointless.
Two stars.
Opportunist, by Guy McCord
by Kelly Freas
This is the third tale of Caledonia, a backwards planet probably in the same universe as his United Planets tales in which every world has its own uniquely evolved political and social structure. Caledonians all hail from a single crashed colony ship, and their culture is a mix of Scots and indigenous American, based on the few books that survived planetfall (shades of Star Trek's "A Piece of the Action".
In this installment, Caledonia has been largely subjugated by mining concerns from Sidon, and the native Caledonians must resort to guerrila tactics. John of the Hawks, Chief Raid Cacique of the Loch Confederation is captured by the Sidonians and offered a job in their civilian government. After being told the virtues of civilization and capitalism, he decides to hang up his claidheamhor and war bonnet and sell out.
I din't like it. Two stars.
Oh ho!
Well now, here is a case of science fiction definitely being less compelling than science. With the exception of the serial, this was a drab ish, barely scoring 2.7. This puts Analog under Fantasy and Science Fiction (3), IF (3.1), Galaxy (3.5), and New Worlds (3.6). Campbell's mag only beat out the usual losers: Fantastic (2.5), Famous #8 (1.8), and Famous #9 (2).
From eight mags, you could barely fill two big ones with the good stories this month, although part of the reason for that is Famous being so awful. Women produced just 7% of the new fiction stories this month.
I guess the moral is: read your newspapers and your Pohl (and UK) mags first. Pick up Analog only if you've finished the rest. Or if you really like Mack Reynolds…
![[May 31, 1969] When eras collide (June 1969 <i>Analog</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/690531analogcover-665x372.jpg)
![[May 20, 1969] Ad Astra et Infernum (June 1969 <i>Fantasy and Science Fiction</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/690520coverfsf-652x372.jpg)
![[May 16, 1969] Strange Dreams (May Galactoscope)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/690516covers-672x372.jpg)
![[May 12, 1969] The Students are Revolting (the wargame <i>Up Against the Wall, Motherfucker</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/690512upagainstthewall-1-672x372.jpg)
![[May 4, 1969] Navigating the Wasteland #3 (1966-69 in (good) television)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/690504laughin-672x372.jpg)
![[April 30, 1969] Eulogies (May 1969 <i>Analog</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/690430analogcover-672x372.jpg)
![[April 26, 1969] Downbeat (May 1969 <i>Fantasy and Science Fiction</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/690424coverfsf-667x372.jpg)
![[April 8, 1969] Distractions (May 1969 <i>Galaxy</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/690408cover-428x372.jpg)
![[April 4, 1969] Hey, Mack! (April 1969 <i>Analog</i>)](https://galacticjourney.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/690331cover-672x372.jpg)
