Tag Archives: Bert Tanner

[August 20, 1965] Look both ways (September 1965 Fantasy and Science Fiction)


by Gideon Marcus

Quo vadis

Science fiction is changing, with no clearer evidence than the fact that our current era has been dubbed "The New Wave."  Indeed, there are those within fandom who assert that only what's coming out today has any relevance, and that there is little to enjoy in (and less to learn from) the "classics" of a half century or more ago.

Having grown up on Burroughs, Wells, Verne, and Baum, I can't agree with this position.  On the other hand, the role of the Journey, covering the newest SF as it comes out, means we tend to focus on the newer.

The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction makes no bones about having it both ways.  Not only will they occasionally reprint worthy material, they are also most often the clearing house for British New Wavers like Brian Aldiss and J.G. Ballard.  The
latest issue is particularly interesting in that the lead novella, by Brian Aldiss, is deliberately written in a Wellsean style (and, in fact, features the author of War of the Worlds to some degree).

Who says you can't learn from the classics?

There…


by Bert Tanner

The Saliva Tree, by Brian W. Aldiss

A flash in the sky followed by a splash, and a pond on a rural farm in East Mercia is now home to an extraterrestrial spaceship.  Young polymath Gregory Rolles is a Romantic in all senses of the word, and upon hearing the news, visits the fields owned by the Grendon family (which includes, of course, a fetching farmer's daughter).

At first, the alien visitors, who are completely invisible, seem harmless – even beneficial.  As Spring arrives, all of the animals in the area, from tadpoles to cattle, reproduce with prodigious fecundity.  Such bounty even extends to the human residents, Mrs. Grendon giving birth to some nine children at once.

But it is quickly ascertained that the newborn animals have an odd flavor to them rendering them inedible.  To humans, that is; the aliens take great delight in raiding their makeshift larder, biting into their prey with venomous fangs, liquefying the animal's insides, and slurping it out.  Only a dessicated skin is left.

And when the milk from the tainted cows starts to taste good to the Grendon family, Gregory realizes with horror that the humans are next on the menu…

It's all very evocative of the late Victorian age in style and subject, and in the end, is explicitly supposed to influence the work of young Wells, who is a penpal of Gregory's.  Aldiss carries it off well, this fun, occasionally horrific homage to yesteryear.

Four stars.


the latest comic piece from Gahan Wilson

Kearny's Last Case, by Ron Goulart

Less successful is Goulart's latest (last?) entry in the Max Kearny, Occult Detective, stories.  It's facile enough, this case of a secretary suffering an abusive workplace run by two sorcerers.  But while the setup is fun, the actual action of the story lasts about a page and a half and is resolved with little ado.  Most dissatisfying.

So, a low three stars.

The Great Cosmic Donut of Life, by Ray Nelson

Things slide further down in this Beat piece about a futuristic musician/computerist who unsuccessfuly tries to resurrect Charlie Parker's music electronically.  Things happen, there's a Martian terrier called a Globly, the story ends happily, but it's all inconsequential, unengaging fluff.

Two stars.

Lunar Landing, by Theodore L. Thomas

Thomas' "article" puts forward the desirability of sending pilots to the Moon on a one-way trip to truly determine the survivability of soft-landing.  This might have made sense (as a joke) thirty years ago.  The state of science has advanced since World War 2.

One star.

Hog-Belly Honey, by R. A. Lafferty

Joe Spade, rough and gutteral self-described intellectual, teams up with the more refined Maurice Maltrevers to produce a self-guiding Nullifier.  Said computer-brained machine can disintegrate anything it deeps as unnecessary.  What a great boon for society!  Garbage, useless files, out-of-date clothing, insincere love letters, all go POOF with a single request.  Of course, one person's trash is another person's treasure…and sometimes their spouse.

If this sounds whimsical, well, what did you expect given the author?  The most engaging part of Honey is the characterization of Joe, whose absolute doltishness is expressed to great comic effect in the unaware 1st person perspective.  This isn't a great story, but it is kind of fun.

Three stars.

Turning Point, by Arthur Porges

After The Bomb, rats take over the Earth.  Humanity is enslaved and our population kept at 10,000 to prevent a resurgence.  Malcontents in this new order are not destroyed; rather, we are merely sterilized and sent to the Amazon, a place the rats find uninhabitable.

All of this is offered up in exposition, like a mildly interesting encyclopedia article.  The "story" involves a few pages of dialogue, and the way in which a human couple heading into exile outsmarts the rats, transporting a fertile child to South America.

The solution is more "shocking" than clever, and the whole thing has the feel of a "ha ha; aliens are stoopud, humans r smart!" story of the kind Campbell enjoys at Analog.

Two stars.

Death in the Laboratory, by Isaac Asimov

For the first time in a while, Dr. A offers up a truly interesting and technical article about the discovery and isolation of fluorine.  After reading this, you may include scientists in the same derring-do category of folk as Doc Savage and Tarzan.

Five stars.

Sea Bright, by Hal R. Moore

Kellie is an 11-year old girl in love with the sea.  But her world is shattered when an acquaintance brings a sinister shell to the beach one day, and a sense of dread causes her to steal said conch before it can harm her friend.  The remainder of the story deals with her attempts to keep it out of the hands of others.

Sea, the first piece by Moore, starts promisingly and has some vivid writing.  I also appreciate the nonstandard protagonist.  However, it bogs down in repetition; if the second act had been a little different from the first, it would have helped.

Still, three stars.

…and back again

So, does this brew of past, present, and (cutting edge of) future mix well or does it resolve into an immiscible layer cake cocktail?  I'd say the former.  There are several pieces which don't quite work, and some besides that fail further, but I still found the issue satisfying.  In particular, Aldiss shows he can turn an antiquated style into an asset. 

Does the future hold more visions inspired by the past?  Only time will tell…



[Don't miss the next episode of The Journey Show, featuring a panel of amazing artists who will be doodling to YOUR specification!]




[July 16, 1965] To Fresh Woods (August 1965 Fantasy and Science Fiction)


by Gideon Marcus

Shifting Vistas

The universe is changing.

One of the fundamental tenets of quantum physics is that one cannot observe the universe without fundamentally affecting it.  In ancient times, the stars and planets were objects of mystery.  They lay fixed in crystal spheres; they influenced human affairs with strange forces; they were Gods; they were little fires.

And then we observed them with telescope, and the fuzzy waveforms collapsed into particles.  The stars were just the Sun's brethren.  Planets were actually spheres of matter, and the Earth was one of them.  These discoveries did not make the celestial bodies any less interesting, but it did more narrowly confine the bounds of their possible natures.

Still, that left lots of wiggle room for imagination.  Why, Venus must be a primeval swamp or perhaps a vast desert.  Mars was clearly the home of an elderly civilization, huddling close to their dying canals.  Even the Moon might be home to a hardy lichen on its surface (and perhaps a society of aliens beneath it — perhaps they nourished themselves on green cheese).

Then came the Pioneers, Rangers, and Mariners.  The Pioneers told us that the Moon had no atmosphere at all, and the Rangers confirmed that Luna was a dead, cratered world.  Then Mariner 2 dashed our carefully wrought picture of Venus, revealing a searing inferno of a planet. 

Now Mariner 4, which zoomed just 6000 feet over the surface of Mars on July 14, has slain another fantasy land.  Preliminary data show that the Red Planet has a much thinner atmosphere than expected and no magnetic field.  Without significant erosion from wind and rain, and without a liquid core to drive vulcanism and resurfacing, Mars is probably a cratered wasteland like the Moon.  We'll know more when photos start coming in (look for an article on the 20th from Kaye Dee).

Again, this does not make Venus or Mars any less interesting…to science.  But for science fiction, the stories are yet again constrained.  They still exist: Niven's recent Becalmed in Hell takes place in the new Venus; perhaps he'll be the first to set a story on the new Mars.  But for the most part, increased knowledge has excluded our solar system from fantastic speculation. 

It's no surprise, then, that the very newest science fiction, that coming out in our monthly magazines, has turned to other settings: other dimensions and faraway stars.  Or focused closer to home, offering up cautionary and satirical stories of human, terrestrial society.

Though it cautiously stays on the safe side of the weird, more nuanced New Wave that has started to flood the pages of our books and digests, this month's Fantasy and Science Fiction offers a nice survey of the current frontier of science fiction:

The issue at hand


by Bert Tanner

The Masculinist Revolt, by William Tenn

At the dawn of the 21st Century, the feminist revolt is complete and there is, with one exception, complete equality between the sexes.  This doesn't sit well with one P. Edward Pollyglow, a clothier who finds that demand for his made-for-men jumpsuits has dropped to nil.  So he tries to restore le difference between the sexes by reviving that most manly of garments, the codpiece.  In so doing, he sets off a revolution that restores men's clubs, dueling, and other brands of overt masculinity. 

There are two major flaws in this story.  The first is that the piece has no real through line.  Things happen, get more ridiculous, and the masculinist revolt eventually overripens and collapses.

The second flaw is the doozy, however.  From the second page:

Women kept gaining prestige and political power.  The F.E.P.C. started policing discriminatory employment practices in any way based on sex.  A Supreme Court decision (Mrs. Staub's Employment Agency for Lady Athletes vs. The New York State Boxing Commission) enunciated the law in Justice Emmeline Craggly's historic words: "Sex is a private, internal matter and ends at the individual's skin.  From the skin outwards, in family chores, job opportunities, or even cloting, the sexes must be considered legally interchangeable in all respects save one.  That one is the traditional duty of the male to support his family to the limit of his physical powers–the fixed cornerstone of all civilized existence.

I'm sure everyone was fine until the part at the end (bolding added by me).  It straw(wo)mans the feminist movement.  What women want to day is equality, the freedom to pursue a life as unfettered in opportunity, as rewarding in ambition and compensation as that enjoyed by men.  I don't know any women espousing for equality in all fields and a free ride on the back of men. 

Thus, what could have been a piquant tale is a flop at the beginning and end, destroying the value of any droll cleverness inbetween.

One star.


I'm not sure how this month's Gahan Wilson piece does any more than fill a page.

Explosion, by Robert Rohrer

The starship Southern Cross, crewed by a mixed complement of Terrans and feline Maxyd, encounters an ancient missile that threatens to destroy the ship if its shields are not raised in time.  Unfortunately for two Maxyd, repairs had been underway when the Captain made his fateful decision, and they are killed.  The missile turns out to be a dud.

However, the ancient hatred between the two races of the crew, only thinly papered over since a brutal war in recent memory, flares brightly.  A mutiny ensues, completing what the ancient alien warhead could not.

In defter hands, I suppose this could have been something.  As is, Explosion is both heavy handed and forgettable.  Two stars.

Crystal Surfaces, by Theodore L. Thomas

In the future, Thomas posits, data will be stored not with chemical residue (pen/pencil) or magnetic charging (computer tape) but the careful positioning of atoms.  Thus, information will be stored and conveyed at the maximum possible density.

Neat idea.  Three stars.

Everyone's Hometown Is Guernica, by Willard Marsh

A starving painter adopts a scraggly kitten and, almost simultaneously, is consumed with an art idea he must commit to canvas.  As he pours his soul into his work, the kitten disappears, replaced by an alluring, independent woman who cooks and cleans for him, never saying a word.  I won't betray the ending, which is powerful, sad and poetic. 

This is definitely the standout piece of the issue.  Four stars.

The 2-D Problem, by Jody Scott

Things slip into mediocrity again with the subsequent nonsensical piece from Jody Scott.  Apparently, folks from Callisto have the ability to translate fiction into reality.  This becomes problematic when one Callistan, slated to be an ambassador of sorts to Earth, gets a hold of a comic book and brings Little Orphan Annie to life.  Flat life, but life nevertheless.

It's never explained how this power works, and the humor is about as flat as the story's subject matter.

Two stars.

First Context, by Laurence M. Janifer and S. J. Treibich

Speaking of Mariner, it is the subject for this punchline-focused vignette in which the human race gets fined by aliens for letting a probe go errant into a restricted zone.

First Context is like one of those four panel comics that should have ended on panel three.

Two stars.

Behind the Teacher's Back, by Isaac Asimov

A sequel of sorts to Asimov's article in the April issue on the uncertainty principle, Dr. A. describes the discovery of the third of the four presently known fundamental forces of the universe.  There's nothing in here I didn't already know, thanks to my time as an astrophysics major, but the energy version of the uncertainty principle is one of my favorite subjects.

You tell me if he succeeded in conveying what he was trying to convey.

Four stars.

A Stick for Harry Eddington, by Chad Oliver

By the turn of the 21st Century, retirement comes at 50 and boredom soon after.  What's left to do when one's salad days are in the rear view mirror, the kids are off to college, and the spouse fails to excite?  Have your mind exchanged with someone from a "primitive" culture, one which still values the important things in life!

Stick seems more a vehicle to denigrate the upcoming decadent, materialistic life we seem to be headed for.  On the other hand, the sting in the story's ending is pretty clever.

A solid three stars.

The Immortal, by Gordon R. Dickson

Hundreds of parsecs behind enemy lines, the ancient fighting ship La Chasse Gallerie, struggles its way home over a series of ten light-year hops.  Its pilot and sole crewmember, who left Earth a young man, is now a staggering two hundred years old.  Yet he continues to fend off enemy interceptors, always gustily singing one French shanty or another.

Back on Earth, it is concluded that this survivor, who has somehow pushed the boundaries of the human life span, might hold the key to immortality.  A risky penetration and rescue mission is executed.

The first ten pages of this story are rather dry and slow, and I can't help but think they could have been condensed into a page or two.  Also marring this piece is the melodramatic portrayal of the leader of the rescuing task force, a bitter battle-fatigued man with a death wish, and the geriatric specialist assigned to his ship.

But The Immortal eventually hits its stride, and if the end result is not perfection, it is not unsatisfying.

Call it a high three stars.

The New Frontier

Science fiction, like science, seems to be in a transitional stage.  As writers explore the new, as-yet unsurveyed realms of the universe, the resulting stories should only grow in quality and scope.  Until, of course, some new probe upends everything again!

What frontier's literary exploration do you look most forward to?






[Mar. 18, 1965] Per Aspera (April 1965 Fantasy and Science Fiction


by Gideon Marcus

A Storm is Coming

"These are the times that try men's souls"

Thomas Paine

The times, they are a changing.  If the post-Korea decade was a national honeymoon for the United States, then the tumult following Kennedy's assassination surely marks the dawn of a new era.  To be sure, that decade of "good times" was secured in part on the back of many, be they Black, female, and otherwise.  Nevertheless, it felt like we, as a country, were moving toward racial justice and equality, toward shared prosperity, toward peace in the world.

Not anymore.  Where it seemed there might be rapprochement between East and West, now there is, once again, active American military involvement in Asia.  Some 3,000 troops have been dispatched, and the USAF is taking an active role in the campaign rather than simply propping up our South Vietnamese allies (whomever is leading them this week).

The Chicago Tribune says the national mood is tilting in favor of this involvement, a recovery from dashed morale just a few weeks ago after several Viet Cong incursions.  At the same time, the peace movement, which I wholly endorse, has also picked up steam, viz. the sit-in of 11 protesters at the White House last week.  I take this as a hopeful sign.

Progress toward civil rights has been a matter of two steps forward followed by one backward.  The "backlash" against newly won Black rights was in full display on March 7 when uniformed police brutally shut down a planned march for voting rights from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama.  Quickly dubbed "Bloody Sunday," it was an adamant Southern rejection of the Negro's right to basic humanity.

Even Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s arrival on March 8 could not immediately change affairs, and an attempt made March 9 was blocked at the bridge out of town.

But the South has never lead this nation, not in the 1860s, nor in the 1960s.  Those who saw this injustice were appalled, and this disgust reached the highest quarters of government.  On March 13, President Johnson declared this restriction of free expression to be "a national tragedy", and on March 15, in an address to the jointly assembled Congress, announced sweeping Voting Rights legislation.

Yesterday, a federal judge set aside restrictions against the march.  It will proceed as planned, starting as early as tomorrow or the next day.  Again, a sign that we can make it through adversity to our dreams.

Weathering Through

The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has had its own tribulations after a decade of unparalleled excellence under its first two editors.  The Avram Davidson era, 1962-64, was something of a nadir for the proud publication.  Now that the magazine's owner, Joe Ferman, has taken over the editorial helm (though there are rumors that it's his son, Ed, doing the work), the magazine seems to be pulling out of its nosedive.  Come take a look at the latest issue:


by Bert Tanner

Arsenal Port, by Poul Anderson

Once again, Poul Anderson takes the cover with the continuation of the adventures of Gunnar Heim, last seen in January 1965's Marque and Reprisal.  The retired space captain had obtained a letter of marque from the French government to harry the Alerion regime, which had taken the Terran planet of New Europe hostage after a short war.  Off went Heim to space in the cruiser, Fox 2, along with a scurvy crew, and there the first story ended.

Port takes place on the environmentally hostile planet of Staurm, where Heim has stopped to obtain arms for the trek.  Possessed of heavy gravity and a toxic atmosphere, not to mention carnivorous trees and insane battle robots, it is perhaps even more difficult a world than Harrison's Pyrrus.

Complicating matters is the arrival of Heim's ex-lover, a xenobiologist named Jocelyn, who rather pointedly rekindles the affair.  But is her love sincere, or is it merely to sabotage Heim's mission in furtherance of the goals of the Peace Party?

On the one hand, this installment is beautifully written, and the depiction of Staurm's weird planetology is hard science fiction at its best.  We get a bit more of Heim's background and some nice color on his executive crew, too.  On the other hand, Port boils down to a fairly simple adventure trek and doesn't further the main plot.  It's roughly analogous to the middle third of Heinlein's Have Spacesuit, Will Travel, which also featured in F&SF.  It's enjoyable reading, but you could just as easily skip it.

I waver between three and four stars.  I'm going to settle for a high three and wait for the outrage.



F&SF is now experimenting with cartoons.  Here's one by Gahan Wilson.  There will be others.


Keep Them Happy, by Robert Rohrer

In the future, the death penalty is retained; but in order to be as humane as possible, the condemned are made as happy as possible before the execution.  The story begins with a convicted murderer being told he has been acquitted and can go free — before being killed by a blow to the head by Kincaid, the psychologist/executioner-in-chief.  The rest of the tale involves a bitter widow who killed her husband for infidelity, and Kincaid, who undertakes to find out what it will take to make her happy. 

I found Happy to be disturbing and not a little anti-woman.  And, in the end, completely predictable. 

It's decently written, however, so it gets a low two star rating.


F&SF by Ed Emshwiller

Imaginary Numbers in a Real Garden, by Gerald Jonas

Here's a cute poem that utilizes mathematical symbols to complete its rhymes.  But I fail to see why one looks beyond the stars for complex numbers (you look in electric circuits) and in any event, "i" is the symbol that should have ended the piece.

Three stars.

Blind Date, by T. P. Caravan

Hapless lab assistant is catapulted to the future by a mad scientists, only to find himself immediately made part of festivities celebrating his trip through time.

This tale is the very definition of forgettable; twice, I had to refer to the magazine to remember what this rather goofy tale was about.

Two stars.

The History of Doctor Frost, by Roderic C. Hodgins

Ah, but here's a good one.  Frost is a fresh take on the Deal with the Devil genre (indeed, it's stil possible!) On the threshold of making a vital mathematical discovery, Dr. Frost is visited by a servant of Satan who offers to guarantee the man's success if only he will surrender his intellect and abilities to the devil after his demise.  Frost demurs and is given 24 hours to make his decision, which he uses to consult with, in turn, a Jesuit Priest, a psychologist, and a female friend.  In the end, the decision is entirely Frost's.

It's rather beautifully done, an archetypical F&SF story.  Four stars.

Lord Moon, by Jane Beauclerk

Jane Beauclerk is back with another tale set on the nameless world we were first introduced to in July 1964's We Serve the Star of Freedom.  Said planet is inhabited by humaniform aliens under the authoritarian regime of the Stars, venerable scholar/tyrants each with their own specialties. 

This story involves Lord Moon, a sort of knight, who sails to the lawless twelve thousand islands of Lorran hoping to free and marry the daughter of a Star held captive there.  It is not until the end that we have any encounters with actual Terrans, and the whole story is told in a magical legend sort of way.  Indeed, it is left an open question whether or not magic works, side-by-side with science, on this particular world.

It's an acquired taste, but I enjoyed it.  Three stars, like the last one.

The Certainty of Uncertainty, by Isaac Asimov

Doc A offers up a non-fiction article on quantum mechanics.  Such is always a bold decision as it is an abstruse topic that does not lend itself well to popularization.  Indeed, Asimov runs into the same problem as everyone else: he doesn't end up explaining it very well.

Having taken quantum mechanics in college (it was very new stuff then), I can tell you that it's not that complicated or difficult to comprehend — provided you have a solid grounding in calculus and second-year physics.  Without them, any explanation is just pointless analogy. 

I'm not trying to be a snob, and the Good Doctor does do a good job of explaining how tiny things live in a universe of their own, increasingly different from our everyday world as the scale shrinks.  But in the end, you're left with a lot of gee whiz stuff and not much understanding.

Three stars.

Eyes Do More Than See, by Isaac Asimov

F&SF's science columnist by-and-large gave up fiction writing with the launch of Sputnik.  He still keeps his hand in, every so often, though.  Eyes involves energy beings of the Trillionth Century, our long distant descendants, who decide to return to dabbling with physical forms…and quickly discover why they'd given it up.

Apparently, this short-short was originally rejected by Playboy.  In any event, it displays a rarely seen poetic side of the author, but whether you'll find it moving or maudlin depends on your particular sensibilities.

I fall right in the middle.  Three stars.

Aunt Millicent at the Races, by Len Guttridge

And last, here's a modern-day Welsh fairy tale about a boy whose aunt is transformed into a horse, and how the boy's father exploits the occurrence for financial gain.

Normally, this kind of silly plot would be too trivial to keep my interest, and no doubt played for laughs.  Neither is the case.  Guttridge's writing, so tight and evocative, so cinematically vivid, makes this my favorite piece of the issue.  It misses five stars, but only just.

The Star of Hope

Yes, times are currently tumultuous, and things can often seem hopeless.  It's important at junctures like these that we reflect on what's positive in our life, the power we have to make things better, and the security that comes of knowing that things that have gone bad can truly come 'round.

And that's something to celebrate!


New York's Saint Patrick's Day parade, yesterday