Tag Archives: book

Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[April 14, 1967] Earth, Air, Fire, and Water (April 1967 Galactoscope)

Leave a comment


by Victoria Silverwolf

Two new science fiction novels take readers from the dry land to the depths of the sea, and down from the sky in a burst of flames. Will they make proper use of the traditional four elements of ancient times, and reach the exalted level of the aether, that fabled quintessence that was of a more refined nature than the others? Let's find out.

Canada's Gift to American Science Fiction

Alberta-born writer Gordon Rupert Dickson, now living in the USA, has been publishing fiction since 1950. It's hard to say that there's a particular kind of Dickson story. He's written light comedy, such as the Hoka series with fellow Minnesotan Poul Anderson (currently a resident of the San Francisco region), all about aliens who look like teddy bears and cause trouble by imitating human beings. He's written entertaining adventure stories, some for a juvenile audience. In recent years, he's gained notice for more serious and thoughtful works.

His novella Soldier, Ask Not (Galaxy, October 1964), part of the Dorsai series, won the Hugo award, and the novelette Call Him Lord (Analog, May 1966) won the Nebula award less than a month ago. Will his latest novel add to his reputation?

The Past is Prologue


Cover art by Richard Powers.

It's something of a challenge to jump into The Space Swimmers without any preparation. The author throws a complex background at you in bits and pieces, and it's obvious that a lot has gone on before the novel begins. That's because it's a direct sequel to the novelette Home from the Shore (Galaxy, February 1963).


Cover art by Jack Gaughan.

Surf 'n' Turf

In brief, humanity has split into land dwellers and ocean dwellers. The sea people have developed abilities that make them valuable space explorers. Humans encounter the so-called space swimmers, beings that are gigantic in size but tiny in mass, beyond Mars. They die every time people try to capture them. This causes the sea folk to rebel, and withdraw their services from the space vessels of the land folk. The result is war, with the land dwellers destroying the underwater communities of the ocean dwellers.

This is where the novel begins. The war has cooled off slightly, although the land folk sometimes hunt the sea folk for sport, in the tradition of Richard Connell's famous story The Most Dangerous Game.

Our hero is Johnny Joya, who more-or-less instigated the rebellion of the sea folk in the novelette. He lives in isolation in the frigid waters of the Arctic with his young son Tomi after the death of his wife during the war. Tomi has even greater abilities than his father. The sea people can communicate with dolphins, but Tomi can also communicate with killer whales. Father and son become involved in an attempt to reconcile the two branches of humanity.

It seems the space swimmers can teleport instantaneously from one place in space to another. If Tomi can communicate with one of the mysterious creatures, he may be able to discover the secret of interstellar travel. Complicating matters is the fact that both sides have developed doomsday weapons that could wipe out the other.

I've only scratched the surface of a novel that has a heck of a lot going on in only one hundred and sixty pages. I haven't mentioned major characters or important subplots. Suffice to say that Dickson keeps things moving at a brisk pace.

There's a certain vagueness in some of the book's concepts that leads to confusion at times. We're told more than once that the ability of the sea people to communicate with dolphins is not telepathy, but this is left unexplained. Johnny works on problems by making use of so-called analogs (a nod to the magazine of the same name?) but I didn't understand how this was supposed to work.

It may seem unlikely that the sea people are willing to completely destroy life on land through a series of devastating earthquakes, and that the land people are willing to destroy all life in the ocean through modified disease organisms. The way each of these terrifying weapons is described, it seems as if either one would completely wipe out both sides. The fact that we live in an age of Mutually Assured Destruction (to make use of a term coined by Hudson Institute researcher Donald Brennan, appropriately known as MAD) may add some plausibility to this part of the book.

Worth reading, but I don't think it will win any awards. Three stars.

Sterling Silver

Native New Yorker Robert Silverberg has been an extremely prolific author in multiple fields since 1954. Not all of his work has been notable for its quality, it must be admitted, but he won a Hugo award in 1956 as the Most Promising New Author, beating out Harlan Ellison, Frank Herbert, and Henry Still. (Who? He hasn't published anything since 1961. Sic transit gloria mundi.)

I won't mention the many sex novels he's published under multiple pseudonyms, except to say that eroticism plays an important role in Those Who Watch, his latest novel (unless another one comes out while I'm writing this, given his speed at the typewriter.)

Three Times Two Equals Six


Anonymous cover art.

Aliens have been monitoring Earth for centuries, cruising the skies in flying saucers hidden from human eyes by a screening device.  One of the hundreds of saucers filling the atmosphere has a disastrous failure, causing it to explode over New Mexico.  The three crewmembers bail out, landing in separate areas and sustaining serious injuries.

The trio consists of two males and a female, all part of a mating group.  (We'll find out later that such a triad is normal for the aliens, although sometimes it's two females and a male.) Although not described in any detail, the extraterrestrials are small beings, each one wearing an artificially created human body.  Their real bodies are intimately connected with their external disguises, so they experience the pain of their damaged human bodies and other sensations.

At this point, the narrative alternates among the three aliens and the human being each one encounters. 

One extraterrestrial appears to be an ordinary man of middle years.  A young American Indian boy, living in a pueblo that keeps its traditional ways only to attract tourist dollars, brings him food and water while he recovers from a spine injury that renders him paralyzed.  In exchange, the highly intelligent lad, who figures out very quickly that he's dealing with an alien, learns about the other's native world.  He also acquires a piece of advanced technology that could be deadly.

Another alien takes the form of an extraordinarily handsome young man.  He gets aid from a young widow with a small child.  The two fall in love, in the first of two human/alien couplings we'll see.

Paralleling this is the mating between the female alien, disguised as a voluptuous woman, and a military man, bitter because a medical problem kept him from becoming an astronaut.  He and the widow eventually come together, after their alien lovers leave Earth.

Meanwhile, rival aliens, who also have hundreds of unseen flying saucers orbiting the planet, try to track down the three, in order to charge them with violating an agreement not to land on Earth.  (There seems to be a sort of Cold War going on between the two species.  Neither one is supposed to be on the surface of the planet, but they both have secret agents on Earth.)

This is a leisurely novel, despite the attempt to create suspense in the form of the enemy aliens.  Much of it consists of conversations between each of the three aliens and the human being that renders aid.  The two sexual encounters between a lonely human being and a benign extraterrestrial may be too much of a good thing. 

The sections of the novel about the American Indian boy are probably the best.  The author avoids stereotyping Indians, and shows a great deal of empathy for their situation in modern society.  Silverberg displays a gift for characterization in his intimate portraits of the three humans; perhaps not quite so much for the aliens.

He's still a promising, if not quite so new, author.  Three stars.


by Gideon Marcus

Ring in the Old

If Silverberg is a new old hand (or an old new hand), and Dickson is a plain old hand, then Murray Leinster is the oldest of hands.  In fact, Will Jenkins (Leinster's real name) has been a pubished author of scientifiction since 1919–before the genre even had a name.  Suffusing his work with a patina of scientific accuracy, up through the '50s, his name was a welcome one on the masthead of any magazine.  I particularly enjoyed his Med Series tales of Dr. Lincoln Calhoun and his pet/assistant, Murgatroyd.

Those happy days are years in the past, and as John Boston and I can tell ya, his latest works have been phoned in…from a booth in Duluth that hasn't been serviced in decades.  Thus, it was with trepidation that I picked up Leinster's latest, Miners in the Sky.

It's actually not bad.

Set in the lawless rings of the planet Thutmose, a Saturn analog in a star system far from Earth, it details the perils faced by a space miner named Donne.  He's no sooner set foot on the trade asteroid of Outlook, a sizable rock within Thutmose's rings, when his little "donkeyship" explodes.  He quickly deduces that word has (mistakenly) gotten out that he has discovered the Big Rock Candy Mountain, a bonanza rock laden with the "abyssal crystals" that facilitate solar system travel.  Donne must get off Outlook as soon as possible: his partner, Keene, is stuck on the ringlet they are mining.  He may run out of air, or worse, already have also been the target of an assassination.  Complicating things is the arrival of Keene's sister, Nike, who insists on coming with Donne.  So begins a long chase through the rings of Thutmose, with a murder-inclined criminal on Donne and Nike's heels.

I had worried that the story would be simply a gussied up Western, but there's a bit of physics and a lot of pretty description of the Thutmosian locale that makes Miners reasonably SFNal.  To be sure, it is written in Leinster's current mode: all short sentences, lots of exclamation marks, and characterization as shallow as a kiddie pool.  Add to that the several times Leinster points out that, as a woman, Nike "instinctively" looks to a man for help. 

Miners in the Sky will definitely win no awards.  It is yet another in a long line of stories cranked out on autopilot to pay the bills.  Still, I don't regret the time I took reading the book.  Sometimes, all you need is a little adventure.

Three stars.




No comments Leave A Comment
Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[March 26, 1967] Changes Coming New Worlds and SF Impulse, April 1967

8 Comments


by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

So I’m now having to get used to receiving just one issue of the British magazines a month. The deal made with the Arts Council last month means that I was guaranteed this issue, which I understand will be the last in this paperback format. It is less but is it a case of "less means more"? Let’s go to the issue!

Editor Mike Moorcock is clearly busy this month, and as a result we have a Guest Editorial from the much-plaudit-ed Samuel R. Delany, who I know is making quite an impact in the US with his novels (Babel 17, amongst others).

Though it is well written, it’s another editorial discussing the future of science fiction. Editors Moorcock, Harrison and Bonfiglioli have all covered this in various issues in the past few years, and this isn’t really anything new. It may, however, be for new readers. It is unsurprisingly positive and embraces the change that we’ve seen in recent years.

To the New Worlds/SF Impulse stories.


Illustration by James Cawthorn

Daughters of Earth by Judith Merril

Judith Merril is currently writing reviews for the Magazine of Fantasy & SF and editing The Year’s Best SF anthology. In between her work on those, she also found the time to revise one of her pieces from December, 1952.

Allowing for the fact that it's a reprint, Daughters of Earth is a cracker in that it takes a lot of old-fashioned science fiction ideas but gives them a modern, different twist. It is the story of future human space exploration but instead of the usual future being determined by men, this is told through successions of generations of women in one family. It is a deliberate subversion of the usual science fiction cliches.

To emphasise this, the story begins in an almost-Old Testament style: “Martha begat Joan, and Joan begat Ariadne. Ariadne lived and died at home on Pluto, but her daughter, Emma, took the long trip out to a distant planet of an alien sun. Emma begat Leah, and Leah begat Carla, who was the first to make her bridal voyage through sub-space, a long journey faster than the speed of light itself”. We go from the Earth to the Moon with Joan, from the Moon to Pluto with Ariadne and from Pluto with Emma to Ullern, a planet reached on the spaceship Newhope through FTL travel. There the colonists meet aliens.

It is an epistolary story, initially told through letters written for Carla, a future descendant, and for future generations on Ullern.

This may sound like a typical space-exploration story as humans expand their influence to the stars. However, it is different in that although it is clearly writing a history, it shows the female of the species in a more positive and pro-active light than usual, even when at times it regresses to soap-opera. With that in mind, the story is perhaps proto-feminist and shows that the future is not just male heroism and gung-ho histrionics, but also about love, family, and personal sacrifice, as well as coming to grips with the fear created by travel into the unknown.

Pleasingly refreshing, this makes me think that this is the sort of story that Heinlein would like to write, but can’t quite reach. It is an example of how traditional science fiction can be given a modern update. 4 out of 5.

Aid to Nothing by P. F. Woods

And then a step down, from the author also known as Barrington J. Bayley. A story of conflict when a Martian tribe, the Sussorr, meets colonising humans. The Sussorr are receiving telepathic vibes from their neighbours the Tuaranth. The beginning reminds me of A. E. van Vogt’s The Black Destroyer, but it soon degenerates into a story where other parts read like a cut-rate Edgar Rice Burroughs. The sympathy is clearly with the peaceful Martians, emphasised by the cartoonish war-loving humans, led by a man annoyingly named Bungleton. 2 out of 5.

Three Short Stories by Thomas M. Disch

The return of Mr Disch, who recently exploded into the British magazines (and was perhaps most recently noted by our Noble Editor for his expletive-laden story in this month’s Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction), started well and yet recently has had stories published that to me felt like his writing is running out of steam.

The title tells it all – there are three stories. The first is a story told by a man to another about a girl he knew before she committed suicide. The storyteller is shot by a secret agent once he has told the story. In the second part, Thadeus and Diane are looking to move into a dilapidated New York apartment, where they discuss life and love before leaving. In the third piece, Mrs. Neary is on a ship that is sinking.

Lots of metaphor and clearly sentences that are meant to mean something, but the point of the stories seem to have passed me by. I’m sure that the stories means something to somebody, and that the three stories are connected in some way, but if they are it is all a bit beyond me. Disch can write – but this is still a bemusingly metaphorical disappointment.3 out of 5.

Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Key of the Door by Arthur Sellings

Arthur is an author much liked by Moorcock, so the return of this writer to New Worlds is not entirely a surprise. His last story was That Evening Sun Go Down in the September 1966 issue of New Worlds.

I had better just check, though. Are you aware in the US what the phrase “Key in the Door” means to us Brits? Just in case you’re not (and apologies if you are!) here it’s a turn of phrase to describe the rite of passage, reached at the mighty age of twenty-one, when according to the adage, the person is symbolically given the key of the door to a property. It really means that they are now an adult, with the freedom to do what they want in their future. Here such matters are turned into a light-hearted time-travel story that’s moderately humorous and not to be taken too seriously.

Victorian Godfrey is discovered to be using his father’s time machine, travelling to 1985 and 2035. There he saw his father dancing with a young lady, but is reluctant to tell his father this. To his father’s horror, Godfrey’s travelling has changed things in the future. As you may know, humour is very divisive and usually for me doesn’t do too well. This one is… fair. It provides a bit of lighter counterbalance to the rest of the issue. 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews

I’m pleased to see the return of a book review column, even if it is for only one book! Guest reviewer Brian Aldiss reviews I. F. Clarke’s (no, not that one!) book, Voices Prophesying War 1763 – 1984. Brian goes through the book in some detail, pointing out the (mostly) positives and negatives of the book. It rather sounds like the sort of thing Olaf Stapledon was doing with First and Last Men – quite dry, but full of science-fictional ideas. Might be worth a look.

Summing up New Worlds / SF Impulse

Really this is a holding issue, in that it is the last before we get the new New Worlds in its new form, whatever that is. Whilst it is not quite the same as the “What do we have left?” issue of last month, it is still a little underwhelming. As you might expect, the Merril short novel dominates the issue at about 70 pages and is as good as I had hoped for, but it is a (revised?) reprint. The rest of the issue is lesser material. Even the Disch felt like sub-standard work.

And as is clearly explained in the beginning, that’s that.  Goodbye SF Impulse, hello New New Worlds!

It looks like Mr. Disch may be important. I’m hoping that this new material may be better than his recent efforts, good though they can be.

Until the next – whenever that is!



8 Comments Leave A Comment
Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[March 16, 1967] A Matter of Life and Death (Why Call Them Back From Heaven? by Clifford D. Simak; Tarnsman of Gor, by John Norman)

2 Comments

[Two VERY different books for you today on the Galactoscope…]


by Victoria Silverwolf

Wonder Stories From Wisconsin

Science fiction readers hardly need an introduction to the works of Clifford D. Simak. Born in Wisconsin in 1904, and working for the Minneapolis Star newspaper since 1939, he published his first story, The World of the Red Sun, in Wonder Stories in 1931.


Getting your name on the cover with your first story is quite an achievement. Art by Frank R. Paul.

His best known work may be City (1952), a book consisting of eight linked stories. It won the International Fantasy Award that year.


Cover art for the first edition by Frank Kelly Freas. There have been many other editions since.

He also won the Hugo Award for Best Novel with Way Station (1963), serialized in two parts in Galaxy as Here Gather the Stars.
(The Noble Editor gave the serialized version a mediocre three star rating. I read the book version and loved it. Chacun son goût!)


Cover art by Ronald Fratell.

Simak has a reputation as a gentle, humane pastoralist. His stories often celebrate nature and the outdoors, particularly the wilds of Wisconsin, and show compassion for all living beings. His latest novel displays this side of his character, to be sure, but it also has a darker, pessimistic mood that may not be as familiar to his readers.


Here's the author with his Hugo, looking just as friendly and optimistic as you'd expect.

Cold War


Cover art by Robert Webster.

In the year 2148, society is dominated by the Forever Center, a private company whose headquarters are located in a mile-high skyscraper. Their function is to store the frozen bodies of the recently deceased, in order to revive them into young, healthy, nearly immortal bodies in the near future. The catch is that they haven't quite figured out how to do this yet.

(If this reminds you of a proposal made by R. C. W. Ettinger, and discussed in a few issues of Worlds of Tomorrow, go to the head of the class. Simak explicitly mentions Ettinger in the novel.)


R. C. W. Ettinger. He also published a couple of science fiction stories some years ago.

In the real world, freezing people in the hope of reviving them has already begun. James Hiram Bedford, a professor of psychology, died on January 12 this year. His body was immediately chilled far below zero and placed in storage.


Bedford's body is injected with dimethyl sulfoxide, as part of the preservation process.

Nobody yet has the slightest clue about how to bring people like Bedford back to life. Besides that little technical problem, there's also the dilemma of where to put all these people when they're thawed out, if this process ever gets under way big time. Simak addresses that very issue.

The novel says there are about one hundred and fifty billion frozen corpses by the middle of the 22nd century, and a world population of one hundred billion! That seems very hard to believe, but it's a minor quibble. Simak tell us that food is provided through some kind of matter transformation rather than farming, so maybe that explains, to some extent, the gigantic population.

Humanity has achieved interstellar travel, but has not yet found livable planets for the huge number of expected revived folks. One possibility is terraforming these hostile worlds, but obviously that's going to be very difficult.

Another strategy, even more implausible, is to invent time travel, and send these people back millions of years into the remote past. The brilliant mathematician who is working on this problem vanishes, providing an important subplot.

The third suggested method, and the only one that seems remotely possible to me, is to cover the Earth with gigantic buildings, each one the size of a city.

Do you get the feeling that the Forever Center didn't really think things out too well? I believe that's part of Simak's satiric point, that the practicalities of freezing and resurrecting the dead have escaped those who are promoting it.

Despite these difficulties, the Forever Center virtually rules the world. People avoid risks and minimize spending, in order to have some wealth in their new life. Most people have transmitters near their hearts, so that when they die, rescue teams rush to carry their bodies into cold storage. Some people even choose to die, rather than wait for the Grim Reaper, in order to save money and make sure they're frozen safely.

The only folks who object to the Forever Center are the so-called Holies, who believe that humanity is giving up the hope of spiritual immortality for the promise of physical resurrection. The Holies are the ones who provide the book's title, writing that phrase on walls as a protest slogan.

A Man Alone

The protagonist is Daniel Frost. (An appropriate name!) He works in the public relations department of the Forever Center. A shady part of his job, which is not even known by his boss, is to exert a subtle form of censorship on the media. Anything that might make the company look bad is suppressed.

By sheer accident, Frost obtains a document that exposes corruption within the Forever Center. He doesn't even know what the document means, but it makes him the target of the company's head of security. Frost is knocked out and dragged into a kangaroo court, where he is convicted of treason to humanity, and given the second most dreaded punishment in the world.

(The worst punishment is to have your right to freezing and resurrection taken away. This happens to one of the novel's secondary characters, just because a mechanical breakdown of his vehicle prevented him from taking a dead person to the storage facility in time. His lawyer, who unsuccessfully tried to defend him against the judgement of a computer jury, becomes the protagonist's ally. She also serves as the love interest. Fortunately, Simak handles the romantic subplot in a more mature fashion than some writers.)

Frost is ostracized. Three circles are tattooed on his face, to warn people that they are not to have any relationship with him at all. (This is what gives the book its rather abstract cover image.) He is doomed to scavenge what food he can from garbage cans, and find shelter in ruined buildings.

(This part of the novel reminds me of Robert Silverberg's excellent story To See the Invisible Man, from the first issue of Worlds of Tomorrow.)

This portion of the book reads like one of Keith Laumer's more serious action/adventure/chase novels. Frost eventually winds up at a farm, now abandoned, where he vacationed as a boy. In what struck me as a wild coincidence, the missing mathematician — remember her? — happens to be there as well. She reveals a discovery that changes everything.

Although there's a happy ending for the main characters, with the good guys winning and love blooming, the book ends on a somber note. A fervently religious hermit provides the novel's last lines, and they aren't very hopeful.

The main plot is interrupted by chapters dealing with minor, often unnamed characters. These provide the reader with more details about this future world, and how the people in it react to the promise of physical immortality. There's a priest who has a crisis of faith, because he's chosen to be frozen and revived. There's an author who's written a carefully researched book exposing the Forever Center, but who can't get it published.

In addition to a traditional suspense plot, Simak provides philosophical musings about death and immortality. Although he's clearly on the side of the Holies, he avoids making things black and white.

I could quibble that parts of the story are implausible. (In a world with such a huge population, there are still tracts of unspoiled wilderness.) Some science fiction themes seem out of place. (The mathematician gets her inspiration from ancient alien records.) Overall, however, it's a thoughtful and serious book, well worth reading and pondering.

Why Call them Back from Heaven gets four stars.


by Cora Buhlert

A Ponderous Professor Among the Barbarians: Tarnsman of Gor by John Norman

Tarnsman of Gor by John Norman

During my last visit to my trusty local import bookstore, the trusty paperback spinner rack yielded a book that looked promising. I had never heard of John Norman nor did I have any idea what a Tarnsman is or where Gor is, but the blurb on the back promised an Edgar Rice Burroughs style adventure on an unknown planet.

I took the book home and eagerly cracked it open, only to find myself faced with a lengthy and very dull opening in which our narrator, one Tarl Cabot, holds forth about the origins of his name (from the Italian, though his family hails from Bristol), his family history (father vanished, mother dead), his education (Oxford, naturally) and his position as a professor of English history. The diction and plodding pacing are more reminiscent of justly forgotten Victorian novels than of a thrilling adventure tale.

Frustrated by the demanding duties of a college professor such as grading term papers, Cabot goes camping and finds a glowing envelope with his name on it on the ground. Inside, Cabot finds a signet ring as well as a letter from his missing father. Shortly, thereafter a spaceship arrives and whisks Cabot away to the planet Gor, which shares the orbit of Earth but sits on the opposite side of the sun, rendering it indetectable. The similarities to Mondas from the Doctor Who serial "The Tenth Planet" are notable, but likely a case of both stories drawing on the same discredited cosmology.

Cabot learns all this from his estranged father, who seems genuinely touched to see his son, only to immediately begin lecturing him on the history and society of Gor, on the importance of Home Stones and on the all-powerful Priest-Kings who may be aliens or gods. Of course, neither Cabot nor we have seen anything of Gor yet, so we have no reason to care about Home Stones or Priest-Kings. The dialogue is stiff and unnatural and the lecture portions read like a particularly dull college textbook. John Norman is apparently the pen name of a professor of philosophy, which explains a lot.

Tarl Cabot spends the next few chapters learning about "the history and legends of Gor, its geography and economics, its social structures and customs, such as the caste system and clan groups, the right of placing the Home Stone, the Places of Sanctuary, when quarter is and is not permitted in war" and sadly, so must the reader. The one bit of all this lore that will be relevant later is that Gor has a rigid caste system and practices slavery. As a man of the Sixties, Cabot is horrified by both.

Slaves, Chains and Adventures

The story picks up when Cabot is initiated into the warrior caste and given a tarn – a giant bird of prey – to ride. Cabot is also given a mission, to steal the Home Stone of the rival city Ar. Unfortunately, this raid will also cost the lives of two women, the slave girl Sana and Talena, daughter of the warlord of Ar. Cabot is not happy with this either.

He frees Sana and returns her home, manfully resisting her offer of some very physical gratitude. Then Cabot flies off to steal the Home Stone of Ar. He manages to acquire the stone as well as an unwanted hostage in Talena, who clings to the saddle of his tarn in an attempt to save the stone. Talena succeeds and manages to hurl Cabot from the saddle. He is saved by an intelligent, talking giant spider in one of the few surprising twists of this tale.

Talena's triumph does not last long. The tarn dumps her and takes off, carrying the Home Stone of Ar with it, leaving Cabot to deal with Talena, who alternately needs to be rescued and tries to kill Cabot.

The story now settles into the pattern of capture, deathly peril and escape familiar to readers of Edgar Rice Burroughs' Barsoom books and similar fare. With the Home Stone gone, the people of Ar turn on the warlord and want to execute his entire family, including Talena. So Cabot and Talena are stuck with each other now.

To avoid recognition, Cabot pretends to be a wandering warrior and passes off Talena as a new slave he has captured. They join a merchant caravan and prickly Talena becomes more submissive, as she falls for Cabot, who returns the feeling.

Compared to the barbarians of Gor, Cabot views himself as an enlightened man of the twentieth century. That said, his relationship with Talena and the focus on hoods, shackles, collars, leashes, whips and stripping her off her garments is unpleasantly reminiscent of the less savoury entertainment found in certain bars in Hamburg's famous redlight district St. Pauli. The phallic implications of the Goreans' favourite execution method impalement cannot be ignored either. Robert E. Howard's Conan, who actually is a barbarian, treats his female companions with far more respect than Tarl Cabot.

Night clubs on Große Freiheit in Hamburg's famous redlight district St. Pauli by night
Night clubs on Große Freiheit in Hamburg's famous redlight district St. Pauli by night
Jungmühle Hamburg
Jungmühle's Hippdrome in St. Pauli, where you can ride horses and donkeys and camels and watch naked ladies wrestling in the mud.
St. Pauli by Day
St. Pauli's famous Reeperbahn is not quite as enticing by day, though these youths protesting the war in Vietnam in front of a topless bar are causing quite an uproar.

The novel ends, as such stories must, with Tarl Cabot uniting the warring cities of Gor. He rescues Talena from execution, marries her and finally does what has only been alluded to so far. Then… Cabot wakes up in New Hampshire again, even though there is no reason for this except that the same happened to John Carter.

Just Read Burroughs

The parallels to Edgar Rice Burroughs' A Princess of Mars are obvious. But even though A Princess of Mars is already more than fifty years old, it offers more adventure and entertainment than Tarnsman of Gor.

A Princess of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs

Once the story gets going, it's fun enough, though not up to the standards Burroughs, let alone Robert E. Howard or Leigh Brackett. But the entire first third of the book is devoted to endless lectures. Even in the later portions, Norman interrupts a scene where Cabot is about to be executed in some awful way by having him discuss philosophy at great length with the villain who just sentenced him to death. Maybe Cabot tries to escape by boring his executioners to death, but given how otherwise earnest this novel is, I seriously doubt it.

Rating this book is difficult. On the one hand, it is less ridiculous than Lin Carter's The Star Magicians. On the other hand, The Star Magicians was also highly entertaining, while large stretches of Tarnsman of Gor are just dull.

One and a half stars



2 Comments Leave A Comment
Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[February 24, 1967] Changes Coming (New Worlds and SF Impulse, March 1967)

5 Comments


by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

In the world of British SF magazines, things have moved since last time we spoke. In the comments on my review of SF Impulse last month, my colleague Kris here at Galactic Journey gave me the news from the BSFA magazine Vector that despite the publishers going bankrupt, Brian Aldiss has managed to secure a deal with the British Arts Council for funds. This has propped up New Worlds for a while. But notice – the funding is just for New Worlds.

So something has had to give. As a result, the two magazines have merged from this issue, hence the new banner heading (even if sf impulse is in much smaller type – expect to see that disappear soon!)

To be fair, though, I have noticed over the last few months that the magazines have become very similar to each other anyway – both have had book reviews, letters pages and even the same roster of writers flitting between the two magazines. It almost makes me wonder if the editors Mike Moorcock and Keith Roberts (with a helping hand from Harry Harrison) had an inkling…

Anyway, all of this is explained in Moorcock’s editorial, entitled “Changes Coming”. Understandably, lots of praise for Aldiss and all of those who fought for New Worlds with the Arts Council. It looks like the magazine may have survived (again) – at least for a while.

To the New Worlds/SF Impulse issue.


Report on Probability A by Brian W. Aldiss

And after the praise already heaped upon Brian, here’s some more.

According to Moorcock’s Editorial, Brian has donated his story to the magazine. Knowing that funds are tight (ie: non-existent) Brian, like all of the other contributors this month, have given this complete novel of over 100 pages for free (or at least a minimal amount.)

That’s the plus-point. Readers may be less happy knowing that, like last month’s Just Passing Through in SF Impulse, this is Brian in experimental mode. Anyone expecting a humourous Aldiss story or a more-straightforward science fiction story may be disappointed.

Mr and Mrs Mary are being observed from three different perspectives by ex-employees of Mr and Mrs Mary, which make up this report. G is a gardener who watches Mr and Mrs Mary from a summerhouse. S is an ex-secretary who does the same from an outhouse in the back garden. C, the ex-chauffeur, is in the loft of the garage close to the Mary’s house. We have a story divided up into different perspectives and written in three different sections (The number three seems important here!) It is a story of surveillance, about observation and effect of being observed. Therefore, lots of meticulous descriptions of what the observers and Mr and Mrs Mary are doing follows.

The reason for this observation slowly becomes apparent when we realise that the observers and the observed are being watched themselves by Domoladossa and Midlakemela, aliens who think that this observation of “Probability A” is important. (It seems that the universe has a number of probabilities, of which this is just one.)

And then we get to the point that Domoladossa and Midlakemela, who are watching the observers watching Mr. and Mrs. Mary, are being watched themselves by The Distinguishers, who are in turn being watched…. confused yet?

It is easy in some ways to see why not a lot happens – although that seems to be the point. The dialogue reminded me a little of Samuel Beckett or Harold Pinter in its stylistic brevity and manner – something that with Aldiss’s literary bent I am sure is no coincidence. It is also weirdly voyeuristic – much of what is described seems mundane and of little consequence, yet I found myself wanting to keep reading.

I guess that the reason for these descriptions of the obvious, whilst they may seem very boring to me/us, is that the world of the Mary’s and their observers is being described for those who have never seen it before. It shows us our world as others see us. Together these viewpoints create a mosaic of often rather mundane events – lots of talk of processed fish, factory strikes, the weather (especially rain.) It’s all rather British and summarises perhaps how others see us.

Interestingly, the constant watching and the events observed makes the whole thing feel claustrophobic and unsettling. Have you ever felt you’ve been watched? Here you are!

There are a lot of unanswered questions. Whilst we are told that ‘it’ may be important, what is the purpose of the surveillance? Is it just to observe? And why is it the Mary family that are being observed? Mrs. Mary is described at one point to perhaps being “the key to everything”, although we are not always clear what “everything” is. Is it something creepy or even malicious?

This may not be to everyone’s tastes – despite Moorcock pointing out on the back cover that it is “perhaps his most brilliant work to date”, the lack of a plot makes it rather against the usual grain. I suppose that it is this that has made the novel a hard sell – I understand that this story has been around a while before being published – but it is one that kept me thinking. Does feel a tad too long, though. Nevertheless, it has stayed with me since reading, a sign that the story has made an impact. 4 out of 5.

The Ersatz Wine by Chris Priest

A story of multiple narratives all chopped up into a jumbled tale. A story of nothing turned into a confusing nothing that plays with form but is probably a story where the form is more important than the narrative. 3 out of 5.

The Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered as a Downhill Motor Race by J. G. Ballard

Ah – the now predictable scenario of J. G. using contemporary people and elements to tell his downbeat cut-up tale. Before we’ve seen included JFK, Mickey Mouse and Marilyn Monroe amongst others. However, I’m not sure about this one where the events of the assassination are turned into a motor race. For example, Oswald starts the race by firing his gun, Kennedy is disqualified at the hospital for taking a turn for the worse, Johnson takes the lead and wins the race.

Although it happened a good 18 months ago, Kennedy’s assassination still feels quite recent to me, and perhaps too recent to become something of amusement. It feels wrong, like making a joke about the poor Apollo astronauts recently would be. Is the use of JFK here to shock, to be controversial? Possibly. As satire, I guess it can be seen to be puncturing the balloon of pretentiousness that often surrounds public figures. Does it work? Not sure… despite the description on the back cover (see below) about it being witty and filled with deeply-considered comment, I really get the impression Ballard finds this all very funny, but if it is, to me it’s a one-trick joke stretched too far. 3 out of 5.

Hunger’s End by Robert Cheetham

Another recently emerged writer in these pages. An odd allegorical tale that deals with expense, perfection and beauty and how a hunger for what you desire may be more important than mere functionality. Well, that and a sea sponge that bites a woman’s finger off. 2 out of 5.

No Book reviews or letters pages this month.

Summing up New Worlds / SF Impulse

As the back cover shows, there’s clearly a need to advertise the magazine this month. Obviously, I am pleased to see anything from New Worlds / SF Impulse. There was a point where I didn’t expect anything. With all of that stuff going on in the background it is rather difficult to judge the magazine purely on its written material. Brian’s novel is oddly memorable, but I’m not entirely sure that it works. Praise should be given in that it epitomises the brave new world of the New Wave, but like most of that work I suspect that it will receive as much criticism as praise. The Ballard is typical Ballard, but – dare I say it – not perhaps his best. Priest still underwhelms and Cheetham’s story, by comparison with the Aldiss and Ballard, is very much a lesser item in the issue.

But I guess we should be grateful to read ANYTHING this month. As we will be next month.

Until the next!



5 Comments Leave A Comment
Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[January 24, 1967] Absenteeism and Making Do SF Impulse, February 1967

2 Comments


by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

So generally, post-Christmas and in the cold of winter, 1967 is settling into a routine, I guess. Except in the British magazines, where things are rather more turbulent. My suspicions were raised when the postman only delivered a copy of SF Impulse this month.

Now it is possible that New Worlds has been delayed in delivery–y’know, Winter!–but after the recent rumours and rumblings that things were not well at the magazines, I did a little rummaging and asked around to see if I could find out what was going on.

Whisper it quietly, but it seems that things are really bad financially–even for New Worlds, which has the higher circulation of the two–to the point that the publishers are seriously considering closing not one, but both magazines.

More as I get it, but frankly, it’s not looking good.


Cover illustration by Agosta Morol

To the SF Impulse issue. There are also signs here that things are not good.

The Managing Editor (interesting phrase!) Keith Roberts points out at the start that the Editor-in-Chief Harry Harrison is “absent, having made tracks for Philadelphia”. Is this rather ambiguous statement just a case of Harry being busy? As a writer, critic and editor Harrison does have a lot of fingers in pies, to be honest, which is presumably why Roberts does most of the leg-work here at SF Impulse.

But all I can think of is that the last time this happened, with editor Kyril Bonfiglioli taking time off to go stargazing(!), the magazine changed from Science Fantasy to Impulse not long after. The phrase “Rats deserting a sinking ship” also springs to mind, though that would be most uncharitable–Harrison is most certainly not a rat! But it is worrying that things may be changing behind the scenes.

But at least this Editorial space gives Roberts the opportunity to step up, as he has been doing for a while, admittedly, and give his opinions in the Editorial on the material in the issue, which he does. All good, even if (like much of the magazine this month) it feels a little like space-filler.

Might be something to read after you’ve read the stories, though.


Illustration by Keith Roberts

The Bad Bush of Uzoro by Chris Hebron

After last month’s story Coincidences, from Chris, we begin with a story I liked more. This one has a Weird Tales vibe, in the form of a story of a haunted mission in Africa as told by a Catholic priest–it even mentions Lovecraft. Not bad, though, and endearingly different with its mentions of African culture, even if there is an element of imperialistic “fear the foreigner” to this one. 4 out of 5.

Just Passing Through by Brian W. Aldiss


Illustration by Keith Roberts

Harry Harrison may not be about much this month, but his friend Brian Aldiss is (Again: when do we ever see the two together?)

This is unusual for Brian: a style that is almost Ballardian, filled with ennui and decay. Colin Charteris is in France on his way to England. His general musings on his stop-over through a mouldering French town also reveals to us that this is a future after the superpowers have released psychedelic drugs in what is being called the Acid Head War. The result is that many of the population are insane, locked away in their own heads as much as they are in institutions. The remainder, such as those seen here in France, seem to live a transitory existence. Whilst this intriguing situation is slowly revealed, the point of the story is less clear, and just as the reader is reeled in, the story ends. More of a mood piece than an actual story, I think.

Brian deserves credit for deliberately pushing the experimental side of science fiction in this story. It is a lot more serious than much of his work, but it feels very much like it is the beginning of a longer story. Nevertheless, it is unusual enough and odd enough for me to give it 4 out of 5.

Inconsistency by Brian M. Stableford

Don’t be fooled by the “new writer” comment given at the top of this story. We have met Brian before, both as Brian Stableford in the October 1966 issue and as co-writer Brian Craig back in the November 1965 issue–not to mention his letters to Kyril back in the same issue. Here he’s writing a fantasy story with a deliberately allegorical touch. Characters live around a village slowly disappearing in the sea. They have no idea of why they are there or how they got there. At the end the sea covers all. BUT WHAT DOES IT REALLY MEAN? Another symbolic puzzle which will either be appreciated or cause befuddlement. 3 out of 5.

The Number You Have Just Reached by Thomas M. Disch


Illustration by Keith Roberts

More from Mr. Disch this month, on the creepier side. It is about Justin Holt, the last man in the world who, staring out from his fourteen-storey apartment, receives a telephone call from someone who may be the last woman in the world. But is she real or is she a figment of his imagination? A story of fear and claustrophobia that doesn’t end well. This one’s fine, but I didn’t like it as much as some of his more recent stories. 3 out of 5.

The Pursuit of Happiness by Paul Jents

Another story from the often-underwhelming Mr. Jents, who last appeared in the June 1966 issue. Krane lives on Aligua, a distant planet which has spurned technology due to once being enslaved by computers, but have integrated circuits implanted in their heads to cope with their lives. Another story that deals with what is real and what is imaginary. One of Paul’s better stories, but really nothing special. 3 out of 5.

It’s Smart to Have an English Address by D.G. Compton

D.G. is a writer who tends to make me think of Fred Hoyle, strangely. Not sure why, other than he has this very British tone. And so it is here. Paul Cassevetes goes to meet his old friend Joseph Brown, a concert pianist (see also Hoyle’s October the First is Too Late where the main character is a composer). Doctor McKay and Paul try to get Joseph to record brain patterns whilst playing one of his finest pieces to give listeners a better experience. Joseph is resistant, feeling that such techniques do not get to the essence of a performance. At the end Joseph suffers a stroke, which makes the process rather redundant. A story of friendship and rather elegiac, if a little bit convenient at the end. I liked it but could see some thinking the story is mawkish. 3 out of 5.

Impasse by Chris Priest

Chris is one of our new young writers beginning to make an appearance in the magazines: last time it was with his Ballardian pastiche Conjugation in the December 1966 issue of New Worlds. This one seems to be an attempt to write short satirical Space Opera and shows the futility of conflict. Insults and threats are made between a Denebian and the Earth Field-Marshal which escalate until one of them shoots the other. Not sure I really get the point. 2 out of 5.

See Me Not by Richard Wilson

Another returning writer. He is popular, I understand, though his stories rarely register with myself for some reason. So the fact that Keith Roberts mentions in his Editorial that this is a “long, complete story” made my heart sink. But I was surprised, even if we are reusing old ideas here. This time it is about invisibility–thank you, Mr H. G. Wells! (Actually, I’ve only just realised that this may have been written as a result of that recent centennial celebration of Mr Wells’s birth.)

Avery wakes up to find himself invisible. Much of the rest of the story is about how he deals with this situation with his wife, Liz, his children, Bobby and Margie, and his doctor, Mike Custer. Lots of social issues ensue. The scientists try to work out what has happened and why. At the end of the story, Avery and Liz, who also becomes invisible, walk off together to live happily ever after it seems.

This is an attempt to write a lighter version of Wells’s tale, but ends up something more akin to an episode of your TV series Bewitched than the original Wells story. Although nowhere near as good as Wells’s version, for me this is a better story from Richard. 3 out of 5.

Keith Roberts rereads ‘The True History’ of Lucian of Samosatos


Illustration by Keith Roberts

And talking of Keith Roberts… This is space-filler of the highest order, as the writer gives us his interpretation of an ancient Greek classic. Not quite sure of its purpose, although Roberts writes well enough and brings to light an old classic that may be worth a second glance. Made me yearn to read a Thomas Burnett Swann story, which may not really be the point of this piece. 2 out of 5.

Book Fare (Reviews)

Book reviews from Alistair Bevan, also known as Keith Roberts. There are reviews of Planets for Man by Stephen H. Dole and Isaac Asimov, Other Worlds Than Ours by C. Maxwell Cade, Colossus by D. F. Jones, Window on the Future edited by Douglas Hill, Ten From Tomorrow by E. C. Tubb and The Machineries of Joy by Ray Bradbury.

Letters to the Editor

Last month I said that the ongoing discussion about Sex in SF that E. C. Tubb started a couple of issues ago felt like it was an attempt to generate mock outrage. With hindsight I now realise that the magazine probably has enough drama going on. Anyway, this month the Letters pages have a spirited defense of “WSB”, better known as William S. Burroughs to you and me, and a discussion of the meaning of Science Fiction, a competition that Harry opened when he first took over from Kyril. There is a winner, step up Peter Redgrove!

Summing up SF Impulse

Keith Roberts is clearly working above and beyond the usual here and should be credited with pulling together an issue even if some material was not up to the usual standard. Let’s hope that the magazine continues, although the signs are doubtful.

An advertisement on the last page of the issue. Is this an omen or a cryptic clue? Is there life after death for New Worlds or SF Impulse?

Until the next (hopefully!)



2 Comments Leave A Comment
Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[January 14, 1967] First batch (January Galactoscope)

19 Comments

Big, But . . .


by John Boston

No matter if you don’t believe in Santa Claus. Judith Merril is back with another volume of her annual anthology, 11th Annual Edition the Year’s Best S-F (sic), from Delacorte Press just in time for the Christmas trade. If you missed the boat on Christmas, surely you can make it work for Valentine’s Day.


by Ziel

The overall package is familiar: 384 pages thick, a crowded contents page, a short introduction, but lots of running commentary between items, sometimes about the stories or authors and sometimes, it seems, about whatever crosses Merril’s mind as she assembles the book. There is the usual Summation at the end, but the extensive Honorable Mentions listing is gone, though she mentions some items that didn’t make the cut in the Summation and commentary.

The contents are eclectic as usual, but let Merril tell it: “The stories and poems and essays here have been selected from as wide a range as I could cover of books and periodicals published here and in England last year. About half the entries are from the genre magazines. The rest are from books and from such diverse sources as Mademoiselle and Escapade, The Colorado Quarterly and the Washington Post, Playboy and the Saturday Review (and Ambit and King in England).” “Of the year” in the title is notional at best. This volume includes a story by Jorge Luis Borges, The Circular Ruins, which dates from 1940, and an . . . item . . . by Alfred Jarry, who died in 1907.

The usual disclaimer is here, too. From the Introduction:

“This is not a collection of science-fiction stories.

“It does have some science fiction in it—I think. (It gets a little more difficult each year to decide which ones are really science fiction—and frankly I don’t much try any more.)”

Unfortunately this year’s book falls short of most of its predecessors to my taste. Unusually, some of the selections by the biggest-name authors are strikingly lackluster. Isaac Asimov’s Eyes Do More than See, from F&SF, is a short piece of annoying pseudo-profundity about the down side of becoming a disembodied energy being. Gordon R. Dickson’s Warrior (from Analog), part of his militaristic Dorsai series, gives us a protagonist who is such a comprehensive superman that his enemies are rendered helpless by his mere presence, and the story turns quickly into self-parody. J.G. Ballard is represented by one very fine story, The Drowned Giant, from Playboy, and another, The Volcano Dances, which reads like a parody of his recurrent theme of humans happily pursuing self-destructive obsessions: his protagonist takes up residence near a volcano that’s about to blow, refuses all entreaties to leave, and at the end is apparently heading towards it as the volcano’s rumbling becomes more ominous.

There is a decided swerve this year towards the British magazines New Worlds and Science Fantasy, with four stories from each here. The best of this lot is David I. Masson’s Traveler’s Rest (New Worlds), which depicts a world where the passage of time varies with latitude, much faster at the North Pole where a furious high-tech war is ongoing, and more slowly towards the equator where people live more or less normal lives. In some of the others, it is quite unclear what is going on, and purposefully: two of them are (or seem to be) narrated by mental patients (David Rome’s There’s a Starman in Ward 7 and Peter Redgrove’s long poem The Case (both from New Worlds)). Josephine Saxton’s The Wall (Science Fantasy) is a strange, haunting, allegorical-seeming story of lovers who never meet except through a small hole in a wall dividing a world that seems like some sort of artificial construct that they don’t understand and is unexplained to the reader.

As always, Merril has harvested some stories from non-genre sources, most sublimely Jorge Luis Borges’s The Circular Ruins, from 1940. It’s a metaphysical fantasy about a man who travels in a canoe to a ruined temple to carry out a mission: “He wanted to dream a man: he wanted to dream him with minute integrity and insert him into reality.” This story, resonantly translated from the Spanish, is the find of the book. Also noteworth is Game, by Donald Barthelme, from the New Yorker, about two guys locked in an underground bunker charged with dispatching nuclear missiles as ordered. They have gone months without relief and are pretty much nuts; it is strongly hinted that the war has happened and they’re never getting relieved. Gerald Kersh’s Somewhere Not Far from Here, from Playboy, is about some ragged revolutionaries against an unidentified tyranny; its portrayal of men struggling in extremity in mud and blood, in a seemingly hopeless cause, may be hokey but it contrasts sharply and favorably with Dickson’s absurd power fantasy of an effortlessly irresistible conqueror, discussed above. But there are also a number of less meritorious, and sometimes outright distasteful items from the non-SF press, including a remarkably sexist story by Harvey Jacobs, The Girl Who Drew the Gods, from Mademoiselle, of all places.

Summing Up

There’s a lot in this big book that’s perfectly adequate, but not so much that made me seriously glad to have read it, and a fair amount that seems silly, trivial, or distasteful. The best of the lot to my taste are mostly mentioned above; others include Arthur C. Clarke’s Maelstrom II, R.A. Lafferty’s Slow Tuesday Night, Johnny Byrne’s Yesterday’s Gardens, and Walter F. Moudy’s The Survivor. The other two-thirds of the book’s contents are things I don’t imagine I will ever think of again.

Interestingly, Merril herself expresses dissatisfaction with the current state of American SF, which she attributes to the lack of a “combining force” or “focal center”: “We have the writers; we have the markets; we have the readers. But nothing is happening to bring them together.” She compares this situation unfavorably to that in the UK. I don’t find this explanation very convincing. I am convinced that Merril would have a better book if she included a few longer stories and accepted a shorter contents page, and dropped a few of the less substantial items from prestigious sources.

As the Los Angeles Dodgers might say—wait ‘til next year.


by Gideon Marcus

The Quy Effect, by Arthur Sellings

This latest book by short story veteran, Arthur Sellings, starts with a literal bang. A factory has blown up, and Adolphe Quy, an eccentric inventor is the culprit. Seems he was doing experiments with an organic room-temperature superconductor, which got overloaded. But in the process, something even bigger was discovered: practical antigravity.

With a setup like that, you'd think this short novel would be about the effect such an invention would have on humanity. Indeed, for the first forty pages or so, Sellings seems to be taking forever to start the plot. Then you realize you've been anticipating the wrong book. The Quy Effect is about the trials and tribulations of a discredited inventor doing his best to bring to light a technology only he believes in.

Which means, of course, that there were two ways the book could have gone that would have been deeply dissatisfying. One is the John Campbell route, in which it is made obvious that everyone but Quy (pronounced 'kwe') is a moron, and the whole book is a satire of our stupid society that quells the inspirations of unsung geniuses. The other is the British route, which would have Quy end up in an insane asylum, the work being sold as "darkly humourous."

Thankfully, despite Sellings actually being British, he avoids both of these potentialities. Instead, The Quy Effect is a quite interesting set of character studies, one that kept me glued to the pages. It really is not certain throughout the entire book whether or not Quy will succeed. Nor does it seem that the odds are artificially stacked against him. Quy, in many ways, made the bed he's stuck in. Now he has to find his way out.

And while science, for the most part, takes a backseat in this book, I did appreciate the bit where Quy dismisses rocket-powered spaceflight as an economic dead end:

Rockets have got as much future as the dirigible airship had. A certain beauty, a kind of glamour, but too damn dangerous and cumbersome and expensive. Riding space in a pint-sized canister on top of a thousand tons of high explosive—that's not the way. We've got all the energy we want, if we can only use it. We shouldn't have to rely, in this day and age, on crude chemical reaction. Subject a man to ruinous accelerations because we have to carry a giant-size gas tank a minimum distance. What we need is more like a nuclear-powered submarine. Point its noise in the air and float up.

Only time will tell if he is right, but I've made similar assertions since Sputnik. I'm delighted to see the latest results from Explorer satellites, to watch the Olympics live from Tokyo (at 3 A.M., Pacific), and I thrill at grainy videos of spacewalking astronauts. But for the kind of mass space exodus so much of our science fiction is based on, I suspect Sellings' mouthpiece is right—rockets won't do the trick.

Anyway, going by the Budrys yardstick of quality (if one enjoys reading the book, it's good), The Quy Effect is very good, once one accepts it for what it is.

And what it garners is a full four stars.

The Second Law of Thermodynamics; Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Entropy


by Victoria Silverwolf

Agent of Chaos, by Norman Spinrad

It wasn't very long ago that I reviewed this young author's first novel. It's obvious that he keeps banging away at the typewriter steadily, because here comes another one.


Anonymous cover art, and a misleading blurb. Ending the human race isn't the goal of anybody in the story. And I don't think that calling a novel agonizing is a way to help sales.

I don't know about you, but when I pick up a book I like to look at the stuff that surrounds the text first. Front and back cover, dedication, preface or introduction, afterword, whatever. Let's flip this paperback over and see if we can learn anything.


Is it really possible for a new book to be a classic?

This blurb isn't much more accurate. The Brotherhood of Assassins isn't the dictatorship; that's the Hegemony. Allow me to explain.

Several centuries in the future, long after the two sides of the Cold War got together to avoid total destruction, the combined government known as the Hegemony rules the solar system. The oligarchy in charge controls every detail in the lives of their subjects, known as Wards. Any violation of the rules is punishable by death. The sheep-like Wards mostly accept this, because the Hegemony offers them peace and prosperity.

The Democratic League is an underground organization, literally and metaphorically. It opposes the Hegemony, and is willing to use violence to overthrow it. The novel begins on Mars, where Boris Johnson, a member of the Democratic League, is part of an elaborate plot to assassinate one of the oligarchs. The motive is to convince the Wards that the Democratic League is a serious threat to the Hegemony.

The third player in this deadly game is the Brotherhood of Assassins. Despite the name, the first thing this bunch does is prevent the killing of the oligarch. Like other things they've done in the past, this action seems completely random. Both the Hegemony and the Democratic League think of the Brotherhood of Assassins as deranged fanatics, dedicated to the philosophical writings of the fictional author Gregor Markowitz. Quotations from this fellow's books, which have titles like The Theory of Social Entropy and Chaos and Culture, introduce each chapter in the novel.

The story jumps around the solar system, with plenty of plots and counterplots, ranging from political intrigue within the oligarchy to mass violence. At times, the book reads like a cross between Ian Fleming and Keith Laumer. But Spinrad is trying to say something more profound, I think.

The Hegemony represents any established Order. The Democratic League represents the opposition to that Order. Ironically, that very opposition becomes part of a new Order. The Brotherhood of Assassins represents Chaos, working against both of the other groups. (In another touch of irony, this often means working with one or the other. Such paradoxes, we're told, are part of Chaos.)

There's a major plot twist about halfway through the novel that I won't reveal here. Suffice to say that something found in a lot of science fiction stories changes the situation drastically, leading to a dramatic ending involving the Ultimate Chaotic Act.

The book certainly held my interest. I'm not sure what to think about all the discussion of Order and Chaos, but it was intriguing. At times the novel is melodramatic. Overly familiar science fiction elements appear frequently, from moving sidewalks to laser guns.

One peculiar thing is that there are no female characters in the book, not even a minor one playing the typical role of the Girl. The closest we get to acknowledging that two sexes exist is a line describing a crowd of Wards as placid, indifferent-looking men and women. The Wards are just cannon fodder, casually slaughtered by the three competing forces, so they remain pretty much faceless.

That reminds me of the fact that there are no Good Guys in this novel. All sides are willing to kill to achieve their goals, including wiping out innocent bystanders. The author's sympathies seem to be with the forces of Chaos, but they definitely have as much blood on their hands as the forces of Order. (Why else would they call themselves the Brotherhood of Assassins?)

Overall, a provocative but frustrating book.

Three stars.




19 Comments Leave A Comment
Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[December 28, 1966] Ice Worlds, Telepathic Martian Mice and Echoes (New Worlds and SF Impulse, January 1967)

6 Comments


by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

As we’re in that strange time between post-Christmas and pre-New Year I’m pleased to type that my copies of both New Worlds and SF Impulse have manged to arrive amidst all of the Christmas mail.

Thank you, postie!

And I am pleased that I actually got two magazines. The rumours of the magazines' decline are still about, although I have no further news. I am still hopeful that 1967 will see them continue. More news when I get it.

With that over, let’s start with New Worlds.

A Guest Editorial this month, from Mr. Brian W. Aldiss, no less. Clearly Mike’s taken time off, and Brian has stepped up – which means that the two issues this month have the Editorial-ship of Aldiss and Harrison. (Where have I seen those two names together before?)

Here Aldiss extols the virtues of the sf pioneer H. G. Wells. Shouldn’t be too surprising, though, as amongst his other many talents Brian is the Vice-President of the H. G. Wells Society, founded nearly 7 years ago. Moorcock last month said that they had hoped to run a piece on Wells’ centenary. I am assuming that this was the (delayed) piece.

It’s an expectedly congratulatory piece – Mr. Aldiss has come here to praise him, not bury him! – but as ever Brian’s writing is always lively and entertaining. There’s a good case made here to celebrate Wells.

To the stories!

Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Day of Forever, by J.G. Ballard

Another melancholic tale from Mr. Ballard. This one has Dying Earth vibes, described as “a world of Nordic gloom” as it posits a future where the Earth has stopped rotating. As a result, in the town of Columbine Sept-Heures, it is a never-ending twilight. This creates for the few survivors a dream-like setting and consequently there’s a lot of stuff here about dreams, or rather not-dreaming, in a surreal setting, as well as Ballard’s usual musings on entropy and time. Here Halliday meets odd characters and dreams of a woman he has seen. More of a mood piece than anything else, I feel. Not a lot happens but the prose is appropriately dream-like in this surreal situation. 4 out of 5.

Saint 505 , by John Clark

A new author to me, with an oddly-styled story of a glowing computer and its creation and management by a mad scientist. Almost poetry but not quite. 3 out of 5.

Sun Push, by Graham M. Hall

Trench warfare that wouldn’t be out of place in the First or Second World Wars – except that this one’s in Britain. Unremittingly grim, Private Time St. John Smith with his Battalion companions Eamus and Sergeant Trelawney fight their way across Southern England. Nasty things happen – “War’s a filthy business”, one of the characters says and that seems to be the main point of this story. To prove it there are a number of atrocities that occur here – for example, captured prisoners are put into brothels, sedated and forced to 'perform', amongst other indignities, something our shell-shocked characters accept and take advantage of. War is hell, etc etc. 3 out of 5.

Illustration by James Cawthorn

Coranda, by Keith Roberts

Onto better stuff. Roberts continues to sell his fiction to the companion magazine of the one he is currently editing. As if this wasn’t enough interaction between the two magazines, the banner tells us that this story was inspired by New Worlds editor Mike Moorcock’s serial novel, The Ice Schooner, currently being serialised over at SF Impulse. So this is another ice-rimmed Fantasy, part Konrad Arflame, part Conan – or is it Elric? The aloof Coranda demands a dowry for her hand in marriage – a unicorn’s head. Rich suitors experience many hardships and not all survive, to win Coranda’s prize, at a cost.

Roberts' tale is grim and yet floridly written, and quite enjoyable, but borrowing Moorcock’s setting and being rather Edgar Rice Burroughs or Conan in style means that it is somewhat derivative. Nevertheless, an interesting alternative take on Moorcock’s idea that I actually enjoyed more than Moorcock’s this month. 4 out of 5.

Illustration by James Cawthorn

Sisohpromatem, by Kit Reed

I had to read that title more than once in order to type it! A story about life from the perspective of a cockroach that wakes up human. No explanation is given for this, but I quite liked it. It shows us that life can be just as weird if you are an insect instead of a human.

Memorable – not just for the title! 4 out of 5.

The Silver Needle, by George Macbeth

Another drug culture related tale but this time in the form of a poem, filled with sex and drug references, and perhaps designed to shock, provoke and amuse. Not as exciting as that summary suggests. 3 out of 5.

Echo Round His Bones (Part 2 of 2), by Thomas M Disch

Captain Hansard continues his life between matter transmitters. Having been rescued at the end of the last part by Bridgetta, the wife of Panofsky, the inventor of the transmitter, we begin this part surrounded by multiple Panlofsky’s and Bridgettas. It seems that every time someone passes through the “manmitter” (ugh) a copy, or echo, is made.

Hansard finds himself unable to go back to his previous world, but is instead offered marriage by Panofsky to one of the copies of his wife. This is not a Heinlein story, right? Or Doctor Strangelove? There are times when it seems very much so. There’s a lot of talk by Panofsky of religion, suicide and souls at this point. And, of course, all of the copies of Bridgetta are wonderful at what they do.

There’s also the pressing issue that the world is about to destroy itself in days… or rather worlds, for it is from Mars that the missiles are about to be launched. Remember – that was Hansard’s original mission, to take a message to Mars.

Confused yet? This is a story that seems to throw everything in at this stage, and as a result it didn’t quite work for me. Clever, yes. And complicated. But I did feel it was trying to spin too many plates at once at the end. 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews

This month Judith Merril takes a step away from her reviewing in the Magazine of Fantasy & SF to review for us Brits. Here she mentions in some detail C. Maxwell Cade’s Other Worlds Than Ours, although as she puts it, “with a touch of my own professional bigotry” to be more impressed than she thought she would be.

James Cawthorn, more briefly, reviews Thomas Burnett Swann’s Day of the Minotaur, Cordwainer Smith’s Quest of the Three Worlds, Roger Zelazny’s The Dream Master, Poul Anderson’s The Corridors of Time and a non-fiction book on archaeology, Approach to Archaeology by Professor Stuart Piggott.

No Letters pages again this month. They all seem to be writing for SF Impulse instead (see below.)


Ballard of a Whaler , by J. Cawthorn

We’ve met James as an artist already this month as a reviewer, but here he is widening his repertoire for the magazine by writing a short tale which also makes use of Moorcock’s Ice Schooner setting. Its purpose isn’t really clear, other than to try and be funny. Who said SF readers don't have a sense of humour?  Sigh.   2 out of 5.

Summing up New Worlds

In some ways we seem to have been put into a routine at New Worlds. It is little different from the last issue – more Disch, more Ballard, more Keith Roberts, the appearance of Aldiss…nothing wrong with that and the stories are generally good. Kit Reed’s is perhaps my favourite in this month’s issue. With all this homage to The Ice Schooner, it's almost as if echoes have been created from the original story! But it does feel a little like this issue could be the November issue just as easily. And so, as last month, a very good issue but not an outstanding one.

The Second Issue At Hand


And now to SF Impulse. Oooh look: nakedness from Keith Roberts. Are we trying to be controversial? (See Letters pages, later.)

The Editorial is a return to that subject we’ve discussed many times before: What is Science Fiction? – before reviewing Gordon Dickson’s Mission to Universe. Harrison likes it.

Illustration by Keith Roberts

Mantis by Chris Boyce

The return of Chris after his fair-but-not-terrific The Rig in the September issue. One again, fair-but-not-terrific, and certainly not as good as the magazine would have me believe. Far too much magazine space (32 pages!) is taken up with the story of sculptor Eric Summerscale, who finds himself being investigated by Condominium Security because his wife Ursula is suspected of being a spy for the Conclavists. Despite its attempt at breeziness, almost becoming a Robert Heinlein story, Mantis feels long, too long, to the point of dullness. Not a promising start; this one tries so hard and yet feels like filler. 3 out of 5.

Green Eyes by Richard Wilson

And then it gets worse, as the laboured Battle of the Sexes idea is continued by Richard. His first story in this series was Deserter in the first issue of Impulse in March and I felt that it was the weakest element of an otherwise strong issue. This is just as awful. The key character in this war is Phoebe, a man in women’s clothing. If it is meant to be funny, it is not. Otherwise, it is another laboured space filler, covering similar ground to Mantis. 2 out of 5.

Letters to the Editor

Letters to the Editor this month continue the discussion of Sex in SF that E. C. Tubb started a couple of issues ago. Chris Hebron, who seems to be all over this issue, responds, as does New Worlds’ Assistant Editor Langdon Jones. The Editor (presumably Harrison, but could be just as easily Keith Roberts) points out at the end how pleased he is for the magazine to have its first real controversy. To me it feels like an attempt to generate mock outrage. Never have these magazines seemed more interchangeable.

Brian Aldiss reviews Thomas M Disch’s The Genocides

A long and thorough review of Disch’s novel. According to Aldiss, the book’s not perfect but there’s enough positives to make me want to read it.


Illustration by Keith Roberts – look, more boobs!

The Shrine of Temptation by Judith Merril

An anthropological story, telling of the strange culture seen by a scientific study through the native Lallayall (aka Lucky). It draws you in, this one. Reminds me a little of Chad Oliver’s writing, but with the usual high standard of Judith. Revelations abound! The first decent story of the issue. 4 out of 5.

Coincidence by Chris Hebron

Another returning author, and not just from his appearance in the Letters Pages this month. Chris was last seen in SF Impulse in October. It’s an epistolary tale, told through communication between two academic researchers. Like the Merril story, there are anthropological elements, although here we also have weird happenings that seem more like witchcraft, with strange images, sex fantasies and things only the narrator can see and hear. Fritz Leiber would like this one, I think. There’s mention of breasts in a vain attempt to grab my attention – this seems to be a theme this month! –  and even shock me in a story that had trouble maintaining my interest. Can’t see the American magazines wanting this one, though. 3 out of 5.

Grutch by Pete Hammerton

Another story that is meant to be amusing (the banner says that it is “a delightfully funny episode from a new and zany talent”), but did not stir me. Some sort of sub-Dickensian style story in a science-fictional, future setting. Luke Varm claims to talk telepathically to mice from Mars who need his help to return home. As silly as it sounds, and once again, this one feels oversold. I am always wary of stories where I am told “this is funny”, because they rarely are. 2 out of 5.

Scary Illustration by Keith Roberts

The Ice Schooner (Part 3 of 3) by Michael Moorcock

Our journey across a frozen world with Konrad Arflame concludes this month. When we left it last month, Konrad and his group of Ulrica Ulsenn (who Konrad has secretly slept with), her arrogant husband Janek, Ulrica’s cousin Manfred and the harpoonist Long Lance Urquart were on the Ice Maiden, heading North to find the legendary New York and possibly the mystical Ice Mother. They were approaching an icebreak.

The boat survives, although there is increased tension as the boat nears volcanoes. Konrad is told by Ulrica that First Officer Petchnyoff and Janek Ulsenn plan to kill him. Before this can happen, though, the boat is attacked by barbarians. Petchnyoff is killed and Konrad is wounded. The weather turns foggier and colder, and the morale on the boat worsens but this changes when eventually the boat approaches New York.

However, the boat is damaged when it hits a wreck and there is another raid on the ship by the barbarians. In an attempt to escape the raiders, the boat is destroyed. The survivors are captured by barbarians riding polar bears and are taken to New York. They are told that the ice is melting. Urquart persuades the barbarians that Arflame should be taken to the Ice Mother’s court. For this, Urquart has made a deal to make a blood sacrifice to the Ice Mother. Manfred is castrated and eventually dies. Urquart is killed in combat by Arflane.

In New York they meet Peter Ballantine, who explains to them the origins of the city and how the people there have invented machinery to keep the ice at bay. Ulrica decides to stay, thinking that this is the future, whilst Konrad leaves alone to find the Ice Mother.

I still enjoyed the setting, though this part feels uneven and even a bit of a downer. Its melancholic nature signals that things must change and yet some cling to the traditions. Will Konrad find the Ice Mother? It looks like we’ll never know. 3 out of 5.

Summing up SF Impulse

A very middling kind of issue this month that seems to be filling space without any real impact, dominated by the dull and predictable Chris Boyce story. The Moorcock was fine but seemed to fizzle out a little, and the Merril was good, but overall this issue feels like it is trying too hard, filled with material that was at the bottom of the pile, or at least full of New Worlds cast-offs.

Summing up overall

After a run of SF Impulses that have been better, from my comments above it may be unsurprising, yet pleasing, for me to say that there’s no contest this month – New Worlds is by far the better issue, even when both magazines seem to be in some sort of slight slump.

Worrying signs aside, we do at least have something to look forward to: this is at the end of the New Worlds issue:

Until the next (forward, 1967!)…



6 Comments Leave A Comment
Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[December 22, 1966] Who's In Charge Here? (The Monitors by Keith Laumer and The Nevermore Affair by Kate Wilhelm)

1 Comment


by Victoria Silverwolf

Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits — and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!

— from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, translated by Edward FitzGerald

Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes?

There's a common tendency for people to want to take control in order to make the world a better place. A pair of new science fiction novels feature characters who want to run things the way they see fit, with the goal of improving the planet. In all other ways, these two books could not be more different.

The Monitors, by Keith Laumer


Cover art by Richard Powers.

There's no need for me to talk much about prolific author Keith Laumer, since I recently discussed his career while reviewing another of his novels. You know this latest work is going to be a fast-moving adventure; the only question to ask is if it's going to be serious or funny. It soon becomes clear that the latter possibility is the correct one.

Out of the blue, every television, radio, public address system, or other form of electronic communication broadcasts the same message.

Citizens of Earth. I am the Tersh Jetterax. It is my pleasure to announce to you that a new government has now taken over the conduct of all public affairs.

He's not kidding. A bunch of handsome, polite young men in yellow uniforms show up. If you refuse to follow their orders, they simply wave their hands and take over your body, making you do what they want.

Our hero is Ace Blondel, unemployed pilot. He manages to get away from the Monitors for a while, leading them on a wild chase. There's no real way to avoid them, so he becomes a guest of the Tersh Jetterax. This character appears to be an elderly gentleman, who doesn't understand why Ace would object to the Monitors creating a better society.

The Tersh Jetterax, in charge of this area, offers a number of very convincing arguments about why corrupt, inefficient human governments should be replaced by the benign, selfless Monitors. He makes a very good case, really, as Ace watches recorded scenes of ignorant teachers, hospitals refusing patients without insurance, overcrowded courtrooms, and other abuses. It's hard for readers not to think of the Monitors as the good guys.

Despite this, Ace escapes. (Not too difficult to do, when your hosts are so kindly, and never keep their doors closed.) He winds up working with an organization called SCRAG — Special Counter Retaliatory Action Group — created by a paranoid General for just such an emergency. It's privately funded, because the General thinks the military is full of subversives.

This turns out to be jumping from the frying pan into the fire, as the General suspects Ace of being a spy. He gets away with the help of Nelda Monroe, a woman who is also disillusioned with the organization. The rest of the book sends Ace bouncing back and forth like a silver sphere in a pinball machine, never sure who he's supposed to be helping and who's after him.

It's a wild rollercoaster ride of a book, to be sure. There's plenty of satire of human foibles, almost as if Laumer were collaborating with Robert Sheckley. Nelda is an outrageous character, spouting intellectual jargon one moment, gushing over a good-looking Monitor the next, never consistent in her beliefs for a second. She could be seen as a caricature of a scatterbrained female, but the author spares no one from his poison pen. Just about all the folks Ace runs into, other than the blandly beneficent Monitors, are lunatics, fools, and scoundrels.

This is quite an amusing book, almost cinematic in style. In addition to satire, you've got quite a bit of funny dialogue, some of its mad logic worthy of a Marx Brothers movie. There's plenty of action, of course, a lot of it verging on slapstick. The resolution is not what you might expect, and offers another wry look at humanity.

Four stars.

The Nevermore Affair, by Kate Wilhelm

Kate Wilhelm started publishing stories in the science fiction magazines about a decade ago. She divorced her first husband a few years ago (but kept his last name, at least professionally) and married fellow SF writer Damon Knight.


A photograph from about the time she changed husbands.

Her first (and, to date, only) collection of short fiction has the same title as the first story she sold (although it was the second one to appear in print.)


Cover art by Richard Powers.

At least, that's true for the American edition. The British edition, for some reason, uses the title of another story in the collection.


Cover art by Richard Weaver.

Besides the book we're going to talk about here, she's published a mystery novel on her own, and a science fiction novel in collaboration.


Cover art by Lawrence Ratzkin.

The paperback edition of her whodunit tries hard to convince me it's a Gothic Romance. A beautiful woman running away from a spooky house is always a strong clue that a book is being sold as part of that genre.


Anonymous, and generic, cover art.

Her first science fiction novel, written with Theodore L. Thomas, was an expansion of a story with the same title by Thomas alone. I haven't read it, but apparently the title creature is a monster something like the one that appears in The Blob, but created by science rather than coming from outer space. It was nominated for a Nebula (along with a dozen other novels by other folks) but lost to Frank Herbert's Dune.


Cover art by Hoot von Zitzewitz.

As I've indicated above, Wilhelm's first solo science fiction novel is completely different from Laumer's latest book, despite a common theme of controlling the world. Starting with the superficial stuff, it's a hardcover, priced at $4.50, instead of a sixty-cent paperback. I don't know the word count of either novel, but Wilhelm's is nearly two hundred and forty pages long, while Laumer's barely makes it to one hundred and sixty. As we'll see, the contents, styles, and moods of the two books do not resemble each other at all.


Cover art by Lynn Sweat.

In sharp contrast to Laumer's breakneck pace, Wilhelm takes her time, setting the scene and introducing the characters. Lucien Thayer seems, at first, to be nothing more than a lazy playboy, living on a North Carolina horse farm without a real job. His wife, Doctor Stella Thayer, on the other hand, is a career-driven biologist.

Their lives get turned upside down when military types show up at the university where she works. They tell Stella and her colleagues that their work is now top secret, and they are going to be transported to an island facility to continue the project confidentially. Stella lies to the authorities, telling them that her husband knows all about her work, so he has to go with them as well.

(There are a couple of interesting points here. For one thing, it's assumed none of the wives of the male scientists know anything about the project. For another, the fact that Stella has to pretend that she's spoken to Lucien about it is the first indication that they have a very unusual marriage.)

In reality, they're taken to a secret base in the Rocky Mountains. The folks who abducted them put out a cover story that their plane crashed, killing all aboard. They're allowed all the equipment they need to continue the project, but they can't leave or communicate with the outside world.

David Carson is an old friend of Lucien, and the junior Senator from North Carolina. He smells a rat when Lucien leaves him a clue that he didn't leave home of his own free will. Much of the book concerns Carson's investigation into what's going on, using his relationship with the senior Senator from the state, his mentor, and other connections.

The reader, although not David, finds out quickly that Stella and the others are working on a drug that eliminates errors in cell reproduction; in essence, it stops aging and thus extends life indefinitely. Along with politicians who want to live for a very long time, there's a fanatical army officer who feels that it's his duty to restore the country to its glorious past, and a scientist who plans to shape society through the use of chemicals that alter emotions.

This synopsis makes the book sound like a thriller, and there are certainly parts of the novel that fit that category. David's slow realization of the extent of the conspiracy, and Lucien's efforts to escape imprisonment, provide plenty of suspense. The climactic scene reads like something from a James Bond story.

But Wilhelm is interested in other things, I think. The characters are of paramount importance, rather than the plot. All the major persons in the novel have lengthy interior monologues and flashbacks that reveal their inner natures.

Lucien, for example, proves to be much more than just an idle millionaire. He is an example of a complete person, which means that he has a perfect balance between emotional intuition and rational logic. His wife, for reasons revealed later in the book, fears her emotions, and seeks to lose them in her work. The way in which she evolves from a severely neurotic woman into another complete person, and the way that her relationship with her husband changes from a marriage of convenience to a true love match, serves as the heart of the book.

This is a serious work, with a depth to its themes and characters not often found in science fiction. (That may be why it's just called a novel on the cover.) It requires patience and careful attention on the part of the reader, who will be well rewarded.

Four stars.




1 Comment Leave A Comment
Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[December 16, 1966] The God Slayers (two computer-themed novels)

1 Comment


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

Just as with the ancient Norse concept Ragnarök, it is inevitable the gods of music will fall. In America exciting new acts have been emerging to challenge the so-called British Invasion. The Grateful Dead appeared on an episode of documentary series Panorama, Otis Redding got a full dedicated special on Ready, Steady, Go and ? and the Mysterians have entered the top 40 with the bizarre Vox Organ sound of 96 Tears.

But none has been more dramatic than the dethroning of Eric Clapton by young James Marshall “Jimi” Hendrix.

Clapton is God graffiti
Pro-Clapton graffiti

Eric Clapton has become a central figure of the London Blues scene.  Making his name with The Yardbirds, he has also recorded with John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers and The Powerhouse. He had become seen by many as the greatest guitarist in the world, with the phrase “Clapton is God” spray-painted in Islington.

When Former Animals Bassist-turned-Manager Chas Chandler brought Jimi Hendrix to England, he took the American guitarist to see Clapton’s new band Cream at the London Polytechnic. In the middle of their set, Hendrix went on stage and asked Clapton if he could play a couple of numbers. He then proceeded to play a fast-paced version of Killing Floor (A Howlin Wolf song Clapton has reportedly found difficult in the past) and then walked off stage—thereby managing to upstage this musical God at his own concert.

Jimi Hendrix on Ready, Steady, Go!
Jimi Hendrix on Ready, Steady, Go!

Since then, he has given a fiery performance on Ready, Steady, Go! and released his first single “Hey Joe”. Is this kind of Nietzschean destruction of the British musical gods to prove permanent? Only time will tell.

It is not just in music the old gods are being replaced by new ones. There are two books that have come out where scientists are forced to face new computer overlords:

TACT computers for dating, recently profiled on Tomorrow’s World
TACT computers for dating, recently profiled on Tomorrow’s World

Battle of the Computers

B.E.A.S.T. by Charles Eric Maine

Charles Eric Maine is one of the old hands of British SF, having begun publishing short fiction before the war and novels since the early 50s. However, he has never quite impressed me in the way others of his generation have, like Eric Frank Russell, John Wyndham or Arthur C. Clarke. His latest has actually managed to lower my opinion of his work further.

The first thing to note about B.E.A.S.T. is it is a pretty short novel. The print is rather large and the whole thing probably only amounts to around 50,000 words.

The author then proceeds to spend a large amount of time at the start of the book explaining in great detail what DNA is and how genetics works. Whilst Maine clearly delights in showing his knowledge it is largely extraneous (do we need to know the names of the nucleic acids for things to progress?)

The depiction of women is also appalling. The narrator spends his time dissecting the looks of each one he sees with an horrendous judgement on each. One extroverted woman is described as a “congenital nympho”; of an an introvert a few pages later: “If she wasn’t exactly fat, she was well turned. Her face wouldn’t have launched a dinghy, let alone a thousand ships…[yet] somewhere inside her was a woman waiting to get out.” This is proceeds throughout text whenever a woman is introduced and, even ignoring the tackiness of it, represents another waste of space.

What remains is a rather mediocre thriller where Mark Harland, a member of the Department of Special Services, is sent to investigate Dr. Gilley, a research director at a genetic warfare research division. It is discovered Gilley has been doing experiments in simulating evolution in accelerated fashion inside a computer and believes he has created a sentient machine. The whole thing is oddly paced, filled with long conversations, and it has an ending that is among the most cliched possible

B.E.A.S.T. is a jumble of the most fashionable current ideas in science fiction, sexual psychology and spy-craft, gene warfare and computer control, thrown together in an attempt to appeal to the current reader. But it is done so poorly, it comes off as amateurish and cynical.

One star for this mess.

Colossus by D. F. Jones

From an old hand to a new writer. To the best of my knowledge this is the first SF work of DF Jones, and little seems to be known about him from the people I have spoken to. However, this novel makes it seem like he will have a bright future in science fiction.

The plot: Forbin has spent years devoting himself to the project of making a computer powerful enough such that it can be trusted to control the USNA nuclear weapons systems, thereby removing the dangerous threat of someone launching an unnecessary strike. However, as the launch of this computer (named Colossus) approaches he becomes nervous of its power, worried they will have no way to stop it if something goes wrong. The USNA president dismisses this and sets it to activate, then putting it in an impenetrable location so no one can tamper with it.

Two unexpected things happen however:
1. Colossus proves to be even more intelligent than Forbin had predicted;
2. It turns out the Soviet Union have also been building their own computer system, and now both sets of nuclear weapons are in electronic hands.

Most fans of science fiction may well be able to guess where this story was going, I myself was particularly reminded of Doctor Who: The War Machines (albeit with more nuclear missiles and fewer giant plastic boxes roaming the streets of London).

However, Jones is a very capable writer and manages to keep the tension up even as we are just reading Colossus reel off simple sums or instructions. One of the least discussed truths of our world is that the most important decisions in life are just made by people talking in rooms and calculations being made. Yet this will rarely be shown in films in this manner as it is hard for even a skilled director to keep you engaged. This is one advantage that the written word has over the screen, which Jones puts to excellent use (and I fear what would happen if this was made into a movie: presumably a lot of noise and gunfire signifying nothing).

In a recent interview with New Worlds, Kingsley Amis criticizes Colossus for spending some of the early part of the book explaining how the computer works, on the grounds that the concepts would be well known to the average science fiction reader. As much as I respect Mr. Amis, I would like to disagree at the most basic level with his argument. Firstly, unless something has truly entered popular culture enough that it would not need to be explained to one's grandfather (e.g. the presence of a gun in a western) the facts should be laid out for the reader that will be pertinent to a later understanding. And in this case I believe what Jones laid out is necessary to the reader's comprehension of future plot points, (not merely the explanation for its own sake we get from Maine). Secondly, and relatedly, I think we should be careful not to make SF books opaque to the mainstream reader. Particularly with those being released by a mainstream publisher, one never knows when a book will be the first science fiction novel a reader will pick up. If we simply assume they will know what a given term means because A. E. van Vogt used the term in a novelette in 1948 the genre will become increasingly insular.

In spite of just being a computer who largely communicates in curt typed instructions, Colossus must rank among the more memorable of science fictions villains. It is at once both coldly utilitarian and has its own god complex. Based on its own assessment of the facts and a belief that its mission is to prevent war, it cannot understand why it should not control the world, be worshipped as a deity and kill millions of humans in order to achieve greater aims.

Unfortunately, something this book shares with B.E.A.S.T. is the poor treatment of women. Whilst it is nowhere near as bad as what Maine has published, we still get Dr. Cleo Markham, one of Forbin's team, having a scene where she is naked for no apparent reason other than to titillate the reader, and we hear more about her “female intuition” than her actual skills at her job.

In contrast to B.E.A.S.T. which feels complete, Colossus feels open-ended. I have not heard if Jones has plans for a sequel or if it is meant to simply suggest the horror of what might come (ala Asimov’s The Evitable Conflict) but in either case it finishes the book on a high note rather than a damp squib of an ending that Maine gave us.

A high three stars

To The Victor…

So, in the future cybernetic war of who will control us, it definitely appears Colossus is going to win out over B.E.A.S.T. Whether we wish to accept their dominance is another matter…

[Having read about two fictional computers, you might enjoy reading about the state of the art in real computers. The Journey has a great many articles devoted to the subject. Stay up to date and give them a read!]




1 Comment Leave A Comment
Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[December 10, 1966] Hot and Cold (December Galactoscope #1)

1 Comment

But first, please read this brief interlude!

As you know, in addition to Galactic Journey, I also run Journey Press, devoted both to republishing classics discovered while on this trek through time, but also to publish new works of science fiction in fantasy that (I hope!) live up to the quality and tradition of the classic works we offer.

If anyone would enjoy these works, we know it will be you.  This holiday season, pick up a title or three from Journey Press!  It's the best present you can give yourself, a loved one…and us!


Gideon Marcus

Moon of Three Rings, by Andre Norton

Andre Norton has maintained a steady output of books, mostly adding to existing series like Witch World and Crosstime.  With Moon, she opens up an entirely new (at least to me) vista, and it's a beautiful view.

Krip Vorlund is a Free Trader, one of two merchant leagues with stops at a myriad of planets through the galaxy.  Moon takes place on Yiktor, a backwards world at the edge of known space, where Vorlund's ships makes planetfall.  There, in the trading town set up for star merchants, he encounters Maelen, member of the native Yiktor race, living among the more primitive human settlers. 

Maelen is a beast tamer, with a menagerie of disparate creatures that can make the performances on Hollywood Palace look like child's play.  Krip is enchanted, with the show and the showmaster, but this causes the spaceman to become thoroughly embroiled in a local political struggle with galactic ramifications.

Before Krip now lies imprisonment, physical and then mental as the only way to avoid capture by rival factions is to transfer his consciousness into the body of a native animal.  So begins the parallel journeys of Krip and Maelen, one to return to his original form, and the other to weave a destiny that allows the aid of Krip while betraying as few of her race's principles as possible.

The more I think about this book, the more I like it.  Both Krip and Maelen get equal time as viewpoint characters, the perspective shifting every chapter.  Their "voices" are distinct, Krip's being straightforward (if a bit formal) and Maelen's more abstruse (yet eminently readable), as befits an alien.  Any animal-lover will find this book compelling, as the actions and feelings of the various beasts are integral to the story.  Norton is particularly good at having two characters of different sexes forming a deep bond without being lovers. 

In true Norton style, she's also set things up for this to become a series.  I don't know if further adventures of Krip Vorlund and Maelen will be quite as compelling as their first (you'll understand why once you're done with this book) but I'll probably read them, nonetheless.

Four stars.


Kris Vyas-Myall

Saga of Lost Earths & The Star Mill by Emil Petaja

Emil Petaja Saga of Lost Earths & Star Mill

The return of Emil Petaja to science fiction was a delightful surprise to me. A writer from the pulp era who I had no memory of, produced one of my favourite novels of last year, Alpha Yes, Terra No!, along with a number of other strong pieces. So, when I heard he was doing a science fantasy series for Ace, you can be sure I picked them up.

Let us start with a quick summary of the context of these books. In the future, the world has eliminated violence through selective breeding, in order to avert yet another atomic war. In Saga of Lost Earths, a strange metal is found that appears to be causing destruction. Into this situation comes Carl Lempi who, according to Dr. Enoch, has the three characteristics required to face this new threat: 1. The capacity for violence, 2. A high level of extra sensory perception, and 3. A knowledge of Finnish and early legends.

In The Star Mill, we meet Ilmar, man who is rescued from an asteroid by a space crew and finds he has no memory of his life before. But then the space crew start dissolving around him. Is he a weapon designed to destroy humanity? Or its saviour from the approaching black storm?

These tales most remind me of Andre Norton’s adventures. Like in her recent work Moon of Three Rings, Petaja blends the kind of fantasy tale you would expect from Moorcock, Lieber or Jakes with well-conceived futures, without it being the Burroughs\Flash Gordon style of Sword and Wonder tales. A fusion of spaceships and sorcery that does not sacrifice either. Perhaps the best equivalent is Anderson’s The High Crusade. A clash of genres that avoids feeling anachronistic.

If there is one concern I have, it is the tendency, which does occur in a number of fantasy stories, to imply there is something magical about Northern European DNA. Whilst clearly stemming from fairy stories, this has two flaws; one, these kinds of myths exist within a number of cultures and there's no reason to assume that people of African descent have fewer myths and legends. Two, and more problematically, it obviously links into a kind of Nordic racial superiority. I do not assume this was the intent, but it is something that should be acknowledged, and of which other fantasy writers should be wary.

Also, like the aforementioned Norton tales, they contain solid character work and entertaining plots. But, at least for me, they also fail to rise above the level of escapist adventures. They are fun books that I will read once, enjoy, and probably never pick up again.

The next book in the series is scheduled for March and I am certainly going to be ordering my copy. After all, as Prof. Tolkien said:

Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory.

And, by that measure, these are indeed glorious

A high three stars for each volume.


Jessica Dickinson Goodman

From Carthage then I came by Douglas R. Mason

The first opera written in the English language is called "Dido and Aeneas" by Henry Purcell, based on Vergil’s 19 BCE epic poem The Aeneid. First performed by an all-women company in 1689, it is a love story of equals: Dido, the African queen of Carthage and Aeneas, the erstwhile Trojan hero. In the final scene of the opera, Dido holds her best friend and sister Belinda’s hand as she sings what is known as Dido’s Lament, before climbing onto a pyre and setting it alight (it’s opera; it’s always this dramatic). Purcell’s Dido is a complete person: a ruler, a lover, a strategist, a flawed and tragic figure. Singing her lament was what made me fall in love with opera when I was 14, and the hope that Douglas R. Mason’s From Carthage then I came might include references to her was what made me pick up this book.

None of the women in Mason’s piece live up to Purcell’s Dido; when Tania Clermont dies by fire, she dies simpering and the narration swiftly focuses on her abuser's pain. All of Mason's women are poorly written and one-dimensional; incapable of forming strong bonds with other women and only existing in the negative space that the male characters permit them. I found it telling that in two separate scenes I was unable to tell if one of the women characters was unconscious or not, given how much the men around her were tossing her body around like a sack of potatoes (in one scene a man had knocked her out; in another she was theoretically awake). In From Carthage then I came, one male hero gropes a woman he is holding captive and forces her to sleep in his bed. The author makes clear we are to read this as romance.

The best thing about From Carthage then I came is its premise. The book opens on a prelude to revolution. For 7,000 years a pocket of humanity has been frozen inside of a climate-controlled dome as an ice age raged around them. Gaul Kalmer believes it is safe to leave, and is gathering a group to escape the mind-monitors and electric sun of Carthage to form a more natural colony called New Troy past the newly iceberg-free but still wine-dark Mediterranean Sea. But the weak writing fails to live up to the possibilities of the plot.

Instead of reading From Carthage then I came, let me recommend hunting for a recording of last summer's London Philharmonic’s performance of Dido and Aeneas at Glyndebourne, with the incredible Janet Baker as Dido. I promise it will transport you just as far as Mason’s piece promised to, contain just as many classical references as Mr. Kalmer tried to shoe-horn into his many speeches, and give you a newly rich appreciation for the now-Tunisian island of Carthage. I hear that Mason will be publishing more soon; let’s hope the next women he writes aren’t so lamentable.

Two stars.

(Did you remember to check out Journey Press? I promise our offerings as good as the best books reviewed here!)



1 Comment Leave A Comment