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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[September 24, 1964] Looking Backward (October 1964 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

The Past is Prologue

The closing of two amusement parks in recent days caused many to look back nostalgically on the innocent fun of yesteryear.

Freedomland U.S.A., only four years old, shut its doors for good this month. Located in the Bronx, this Disneyland-with-a-New-York-accent featured several theme areas, including fun-filled, if not very accurate, recreations of the past and the future.


The world's largest, but not the most successful.

Only a few days later, the Coney Island attraction Steeplechase Park, which opened way back in 1897, received its last visitors as well.


Were you there six decades ago?

Popular music also turned to the past, as a new version of the folk song The House of the Rising Sun by the British rockers The Animals reached the top of the American charts early this month. It is still Number One as I type these words.


That's really lousy cover art for such a great song.

It's not unusual for a remake of an old number to become a hit, but this is an extreme example. Musicologists tell us the song's origins may go back as far as Sixteenth Century England, although this is a matter of debate. In any case, I was stunned, in a pleasant way, when I first heard this version. Eric Burdon's powerful vocals and Alan Price's compelling electronic organ solo make this a new classic, if you'll pardon the oxymoron.

In a similar way, the two longest stories in the latest issue of Fantastic seem to have come out of the yellowing pages of an old pulp magazine.

Gimme That Old-Time Sci-Fi, It's Good Enough For Me


Cover art by George Schelling

Beyond the Ebon Wall, by C. C. MacApp


Illustrations by Michael Arndt

This yarn starts off with the hero making a routine survey of a distant solar system. He finds a bizarre planet, half of which is missing, cut away from the other half by a black wall. Don't expect a hard SF story in the tradition of Hal Clement, with a scientific explanation for the weird phenomenon. Once the guy lands on the planet, the story becomes pure fantasy, of the sword-and-sorcery kind.

He meets four men, one of whom is an elderly fellow with a scarred face. There is also a pair of naked men fighting near the black wall. These two vanish into the wall, and the hero rather foolishly follows them. He finds himself trapped in another world, where he encounters another scarred old man, who seems to be the twin of the first one. We also get our first strong clue that we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto, when a magpie recites a prophetic poem to him.

What follows is an adventure story, full of action, and yet somehow leisurely. The hero is captured, and becomes the slave of a seafaring merchant who treats him decently. He becomes good buddies with a huge guy, who serves as our source of exposition. The two of them act as bait during the hunt for a dangerous animal. Surprisingly, the creature becomes as loyal to him as a friendly dog.


Does this look like a good house pet to you?

Stir in a pirate captain, a sorcerer, battles, escapes, and chase scenes. The hero eventually winds up where he started, and the story ends with a confusing time travel paradox.

The space exploration opening adds nothing to the plot, and even the time travel theme could have been the result of black magic. Other than the awkward blending of genres, this is an old-fashioned swashbuckler right out of Weird Tales. The hero and his giant pal are likable enough, but their adventures don't lead to very much.

Two stars.

The Grooves, by Jack Sharkey


Illustration by George Schelling

A foolhardy young man tells his grandmother that he's going to go into the underground lair of a troll and steal its gold. The old lady warns him that he must never kill a troll. We also find out that trolls have inverted souls, so they walk on the ceilings of their caverns. (No, that didn't make much sense to me, either.)

At this point, I thought that the trolls were going to turn out to be aliens, or maybe people in spacesuits. Nothing of the kind happens. The story is pure fantasy, and the plot is as simple as can be. The stupid protagonist discovers why he shouldn't kill a troll, and learns the meaning of a couple of marks on the wall of the cave, the secret of which is neither surprising nor interesting.

Two stars.

Seed of Eloraspon (Part One of Two), by Manly Banister


Illustration by George Schelling

Allow me to indulge in a little reminiscing of my own. My very first article for Galactic Journey, almost exactly three years ago, was about the October 1961 issue of Fantastic. Included in the magazine was the second half of the short novel Magnanthropus by Manly Banister. For reasons I cannot explain, this work was very popular with readers. Here comes the sequel.

In the first novel, the main character crossed over from a future Earth to the planet Eloraspon when the two worlds somehow collided with each other across dimensions. As far as he knew, Earth was destroyed. He also found out that he was a Magnanthropus, which is a kind of superman with special mental powers.

The sequel begins with the hero traveling from the northern continent of Eloraspon to the southern one, in search of the city of Surandanish, the ancient capital of an advanced civilization, now vanished. (His Magnanthropus powers direct him to seek out the place, for reasons not yet clear.) Along the way he meets the fairy-like beings we saw in the first story, although they don't have anything to do with the plot, so far.


The charming but irrelevant butterfly people.

He rescues a beautiful warrior princess from a monster and they fall in love so fast it'll make your head spin. Interfering with their romance are the Tharn, a bunch of nasty, ugly folks who live only to kill and enslave. The hero battles one Tharn who used to be a regular fellow, but who lost his good looks when he consumed some of the addictive substance that makes the Tharn so hideous and mean. (Take a look at the cover art for a portrait of a Tharn. The real thing isn't anywhere near that big, however, only a little larger than a non-Tharn.)

Defeated in battle, the Tharn-who-wasn't-always-a-Tharn becomes the hero's loyal companion. Together they set out after the princess, who was captured while they were fighting. They get thrown in a dungeon, but the hero uses his convenient Magnanthropus abilities to travel through walls and attack their captors.


Take that, Tharn scum!

He also acquires another ally, a fellow Earthman who tells him that the world wasn't really destroyed, although it was badly shook up. They meet the mysterious Bronze Men, who are supposed to be immortal, although the hero apparently kills one of them pretty quickly. Our trio of Good Guys wind up captured again, and this half of the novel ends as they are about to be slain by a flying monster, while the princess is held captive by the leader of the Tharn.

Like the lead novelette by MacApp, this is an old-fashioned fantasy adventure with some science fiction trappings. I suspect that fans of Edgar Rice Burroughs made up a good portion of those who praised the first novel, with a comment like they don't write 'em like that anymore. Frankly, I'm glad they don't.

Two stars.

Home to Zero, by David R. Bunch

Nobody will ever accuse this author of rehashing old-time stories. His latest offering is a typically opaque and depressing bit of prose, written in his usual eccentric style. As far as I can tell, it has something to do with a being who used to be a man, but is now all machine. He, or it, or possibly humanity in general, sent probes out to the ends of the cosmos. Now it, or he, seeks only nothingness. Maybe. Your guess is as good as mine. At least it's weird enough, and short enough, to avoid boredom.

Two stars.

Encounter, by Piers Anthony


Illustration by Robert Adragna

The protagonist lives in an ultra-urbanized future, where most people never leave their homes. He travels an incredibly long road through a deserted area, inhabited by packs of feral dogs and hordes of rats. Although the setting is the Atlantic coast of North America, he also encounters savage peccaries, and, most amazingly, a tiger. The man and the cat become wary allies in their mutual battle against the wild pigs.

It was a relief to read a story that was neither corny nor incomprehensible. It's a reasonably enjoyable little tale, which achieves its modest goals in an efficient, if unspectacular, way.

Three stars.

Midnight in the Mirror World, by Fritz Leiber


Illustration by Virgil Finlay

One of the easiest ways to look back at things is to gaze into a mirror. It's not a coincidence, I believe, that the word reflection can refer to an image seen in a shiny surface, or to the act of musing over one's experiences. Such were my thoughts, anyway, when I read the newest creation by a master of imaginative fiction.

The protagonist is a man in late middle age, divorced and living alone, who sleeps during the day and enjoys his three hobbies of astronomy, correspondence chess, and playing classical music on his piano at night. (Sounds like a pretty nice lifestyle to me, to tell the truth.)

As part of his nightly routine, each midnight he passes between two parallel mirrors on his way to the piano. As many of us have experienced, this creates the illusion of an infinite number of selves within the glass. One night, he sees a dark figure touching one of his reflections, which seems terrified. Each night the figure comes closer, until he recognizes it. Inevitably, the figure emerges, leading to a final encounter.

The synopsis I've provided makes this sound like a supernatural horror story, and that's certainly an accurate description. Will you believe me if I tell you that it's also a love story, and that the frightening ending can also be seen as a happy one?

Beautifully written, with the author's elegant style and gift for striking images on full display, this quietly chilling tale draws the reader into its world of darkness and light. The conclusion may not be completely unexpected, but it's a fine story nonetheless.

Four stars.

Nostalgia Ain't What It Used To Be

So how was this literary trip down memory lane? Disappointing, for the most part. I suppose it's only natural to yearn for the things one enjoyed at a much younger age, but science fiction and fantasy have progressed, I think, over the past several decades. It's no longer enough to have mighty heroes combating fiendish villains in an exotic setting.

The avant-garde writings of Bunch warn us, however, that's it's possible to go too far the other way, and throw out the baby of clarity with the bathwater of familiarity. Leiber, and to a lesser extent, Anthony, understand this, and manage to provide readers with something new, while paying the proper amount of tribute to literary traditions.

I wonder if, sometime in the Twenty-First Century, SF fans will look back at the stories of the Sixties with a wistful sigh, and crack open the brittle pages of an old magazine in an attempt to bring back the sensations that felt so new at the time.


An old science fiction classic worth revisiting.

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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[August 25, 1964] Combat Zones (September 1964 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Wars Near and Far

The involvement of the United States in the conflict in Vietnam reached a turning point this month, with the signing of a joint resolution of Congress by President Lyndon Baines Johnson on August 10.


Doesn't look like much, for a piece of paper sending the nation into an undeclared war.

In response to the Gulf of Tonkin incident of August 2, when three North Vietnamese torpedo boats attacked the United States destroyer Maddox, the resolution grants broad powers to the President to use military force in the region. All members of Congress except Senator Wayne Morse of Oregon, Senator Ernest Gruening of Alaska, and Representative Adam Clayton Powell, Jr., of New York voted for the resolution. (Morse and Gruening voted against it, while Powell only voted present during roll call. Perhaps that was a wise move on his part.)

The name of the Navy vessel involved in the battle reminds me of the tragic domestic conflict in the USA over racial segregation. That's because restaurant owner and unsuccessful political candidate Lester Maddox shut down his Pickrick diner rather than obey a judicial order to integrate it. Let's hope this is the last we ever hear from this fellow.


This is a recently released recording of a news conference he gave in July defending his refusal to serve black customers. Please don't buy it.

The Battle of the Bands

With all that going on, it's a relief to turn to less violent forms of combat. After withdrawing from the top of the American popular music charts for a couple of months, the Beatles launched an all-out assault with the release of their first feature film, an amusing romp called A Hard Day's Night.


Wilfrid Brambell is very funny in the role of Paul's grandfather.

Of course, the title song shot up to Number One.


I should have known better than to think we'd seen the last of these guys.

Not to be outdone, crooner Dean Martin, no fan of rock 'n' roll, drove back the British invaders with a new version of the 1947 ballad Everybody Loves Somebody, proving that teenagers aren't the only ones buying records these days by replacing the Fab Four at the top.


The Hit Version; as opposed to the forgotten version he sang on the radio in 1948.

His victory was short-lived, however, as a three-woman army entered the fray. Just a few days ago, The Supremes replaced him with their Motown hit Where Did Our Love Go?


I assume he does not refer to Dean Martin.

Order of Battle

The stories in the latest issue of Fantastic feature all kinds of warfare, both literal and metaphoric.


Cover art by Robert Adragna

Planet of Change, by J. T. McIntosh


Interior illustrations also by Adragna

We begin our military theme with a courtroom drama, in the tradition of The Caine Mutiny. This time, of course, the court-martial involves the star-faring members of an all-male Space Navy rather than sailors.

Before the story begins, the crew of a starship refused to land on a particular planet, despite the direct orders of the captain. This seems reasonable, as previous expeditions to the mysterious world disappeared. The mutineers obeyed their commander in all other ways.

During the trial of the second-in-command, who subtly persuaded the others to rebel, the prosecuting attorney investigates the defendant's background. It turns out that records about his past life and service record were conveniently destroyed. Under questioning, the strange truth about the planet comes out.

At this point, I thought the officer was going to be exposed as a shape-shifting alien in human form. I have to give McIntosh credit for coming up with something more original. The secret of the planet is a very strange one. Without giving too much away, let's just say that previous voyages to the place didn't really vanish.

Because the story takes place almost entirely at the trial, much of it is taken up by a long flashback narrated by the defendant. This has a distancing effect, which makes the imaginative plot a little less effective. The motive of the second-in-command, and others like him, may seem peculiar, even distasteful. As if the author knew this, he has the prosecutor react in the same way. Overall, it's worth reading once, but I doubt it will ever be regarded as a classic.

Three stars.

Beyond the Line, by William F. Temple


Illustrated by Virgil Finlay

A war can take place inside one's self also. The main character in this sentimental tale is a woman who is well aware that her asymmetrical face and body are unattractive. After a childhood spent escaping into fairy tales, and later writing her own, she decides to face the harsh truth of reality. Just as she does so, however, a rose appears out of nowhere in her lonely bedroom. It is asymmetrical also, and fades more quickly than a normal flower.

So far this reads like a romantic fantasy, but the explanation for the rose involves concepts from science fiction. Some readers may find it too much of a tearjerker, but I enjoyed it. It reminded me, in some ways, of Robert F. Young and his reworking of old stories, mixed with his emotional love stories. It's very well written, and is likely to pull a few heartstrings.

Four stars.

Fire Sale, by Laurence M. Janifer

Back to the world of armies and soldiers in this variation on one of the oldest themes in fantasy literature. The Devil appears to an important American officer. His Soviet counterpart is willing to sacrifice a large number of his own people to Satan, in exchange for killing the American. The Devil asks the officer if he can come up with a better offer. The solution to the dilemma is a grim one, which could only happen in this modern age.

This mordant little fable gets right to the point, without excess verbiage. You may be a little tired of this kind of story, but it accomplishes what it sets out to do.

Three stars.

When the Idols Walked (Part 2 of 2), by John Jakes


Illustrated by Emsh

It would be tedious to repeat the previous adventures of the mighty barbarian Brak, as related in last issue. The magazine has to take up four pages in its synopsis of Part One. Suffice to say that he faces the wrath of an evil sorceress and the invading army following her. The story eventually builds up to a full scale war between the Bad Guys and the Good Guys, but first our hero has to survive other deadly challenges.

In our last episode, as the narrator of an old-time serial might say, Brak wound up in an underground crematorium, from which nobody has ever returned. In a manner that involves a great deal of good luck, he finds a way out, leading to a rushing river. Next comes an encounter that could be edited out without changing the plot. Brak fights a three-headed avian monster, whose heads grow back as soon as they are chopped off. As you can see, this is stolen directly from Greek myth, and the author even calls the creature a bird-hydra.

Once he escapes from the beast, he finds the city of the Good Guys under attack from without, by the war machines of the Bad Guys, as well as from within, by the giant walking statue controlled by the sorceress. A heck of a lot of fighting and bloodshed follow, until Brak gets to the mechanical controls operating another giant statue, as foreshadowed in Part One.

Jake can certainly write vividly, and the action never stops for a second. The story is really just one damned thing after another, and certain things that showed up in the first part never come back. What happened to the strangling ghost? Whatever became of the magician who fought the sorceress? This short novel is never boring, but derivative and loosely plotted.

Two stars.

A Vision of the King, by David R. Bunch

Like many stories from a unique writer, this grim tale is difficult to describe. In brief, the narrator watches a figure approach with three dark boats. They talk, and the narrator refuses to go with him. As far as I can tell, it's about death, one of the author's favorite themes. It's not a pleasant thing to read, but I can't deny that the style has a certain power.

Two stars.

Hear and Obey, by Jack Sharkey


Illustrated by George Schelling

War can be waged with words instead of weapons, of course. In this version of the familiar tale of a genie granting wishes, a man purchases Aladdin's lamp from one of those weird little shops that show up in fantasy fiction so often. The genie takes everything the fellow says literally. (It reminds me of the old Lenny Bruce joke about the guy who says to the genie "Make me a malted.")

After a lot of frustrated conversation, the man finally gets a million dollars in cash. Since we have to have a twist ending, the fellow says something that the genie takes literally, with bad results. The tone of the story changes suddenly from light comedy to gruesome horror, which is disconcerting.

Two stars.

2064, or Thereabouts, by Darryl R. Groupe

Let me put on my deerstalker hat and do a little detective work here. Take a look at the author's name. Remind you of anything? Well, there's a first name starting with D, the middle initial R, and a last name that is almost like group, which means a collection of objects, just like the word bunch.

Even before reading the story, we can guess that this is David R. Bunch again, under a different name to weakly disguise his second appearance. Once we get started on it, the style and theme are unmistakable.

The setting is a dystopian future full of people whose bodies have been almost entirely replaced by machines. An artist visits, eager to do a portrait of the most extreme example of the new form of humanity, with only the absolute minimum of flesh left. Their encounter leads to a grim ending.

The plot is less coherent than I've made it sound. Like the other story by Bunch in this issue, it holds a certain eerie fascination for the reader, even as it confuses and disturbs.

Two stars.

Mopping Up the Battlefield

With the exception of a single good story, this was yet another issue full of mediocrity and disappointment. Maybe I'm just in a bad mood because of the looming threat of global warfare abroad, and a new civil war at home. I should probably relax and watch a little television to get my mind off it, even if I have to put up with those lousy commercials.

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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[July 20, 1964] Dashed Hopes (August 1964 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

(if you found us at San Diego Comic-Con and can't figure out why we seem to be 55 years behind you, this should clear things up!)

Bad News Drives Out Good News

This month started off in a optimistic way, as President Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act on July 2, after a long struggle with Dixiecrats (segregationist Southern Democrats) and some Republicans.


An historic moment.

The very next day, restaurant owner and unsuccessful political candidate Lester Maddox, with the help of fellow segregationists wielding ax handles, drove three civil rights activists away from his Pickrick Cafeteria.


I hope he continues to lose elections in his native state of Georgia.

Not to be outdone, George Wallace, Governor of Alabama, made an impassioned speech against the Civil Rights Act on the Fourth of July.


You can see the anger that fills this man.

Never before in the history of this nation have so many human and property rights been destroyed by a single enactment of the Congress. It is an act of tyranny. It is the assassin’s knife stuck in the back of liberty. With this assassin’s knife and a blackjack in the hand of the Federal force-cult, the left-wing liberals will try to force us back into bondage.

I don't think I need to point out the bitter irony of Wallace's tirade being delivered on Independence Day. If my disgust at his rhetoric makes me a left-wing liberal, so be it.

On the international front, any hope that United States involvement in the conflict in Vietnam might be lessened was crushed during the Battle of Nam Dong. North Vietnamese forces attacked a camp manned by three hundred and sixty South Vietnamese soldiers, twelve American Green Berets, and one Australian adviser. When the fighting ended, fifty-seven South Vietnamese, two Americans, and the Australian were dead.


Artist's impression of the battle

After such discouraging developments at home and abroad, it seems petty and selfish to concern myself with trivial matters of entertainment. Be that as it may, I couldn't help feeling annoyed when the upbeat Beach Boys tune I Get Around lost its Number One position in the USA to Rag Doll, another cloying melody from my personal bête noire, the Four Seasons.


I won't worry; your music is pretty good.


Silence would definitely be better.

The Issue at Hand

When nothing else pleases me, I turn to imaginative fiction to take me away from my troubles. Unfortunately, after having my expectations raised by last month's excellent offerings, the latest issue of Fantastic proves to be a disappointment.


Cover art and interior art by Emsh

When the Idols Walked (Part 1 of 2), by John Jakes

Brak the Barbarian, whom we've seen a few times before, returns in this new sword-and-sorcery adventure.

The mighty hero is captured when the Bad Guys invade a place he's just passing through and make him a galley slave. A raging storm threatens to sink the huge fleet of slave ships, until the traditional beautiful but evil sorceress calms the sea. Not all is well, however, because a sorcerer from the invaded land shows up in his own ship, and a fierce battle of magic results. After a lot of natural and supernatural violence, Brak falls into the ocean and is washed up on the shore of the next place the Bad Guys intend to conquer.

Things get a lot more complicated after Brak is nursed back to health by the beautiful (but not evil) daughter of a merchant. It seems that the merchant has an enemy with the power to control the spirits of two dead men. One was a strangler, and his ghost still possesses the ability to kill people with a spectral rope. The other was an informer and a libertine and, so we're told, even more wicked than the other. This one can inhabit statues, bringing them to life. (Yes, that's when the idols walk.) Besides all this, the Bad Guys are on the march, the brave ruler of the land is off defending the border, and an ineffective vizier is in charge during his absence. Let's not forget about the sorceress, who is out to destroy Brak.

As you can see, a heck of a lot goes on in this fast-moving adventure. The author writes vividly, particularly during the storm and the sea battle, and when a statue of a sinister, one-eyed god comes to life and attacks. It's too bad that the whole thing is so similar to Robert E. Howard's tales of Conan, and feels like it belongs in the yellowed, crumbling pages of a 1930's issue of Weird Tales.

Two stars.

The Scent of Love, by Larry Eisenberg

Human colonists on an alien world make use of the fruit of a local tree. Their problem is that a particularly large and nasty insect attacks the trees. A scientist obtains a substance from female insects that attracts male insects, so they can be trapped and killed. You won't be surprised to discover that this method has unintended consequences. What happens is predictable, and makes me wonder why the colonists didn't anticipate it.

Two stars.

The Failure, by David R. Bunch

Here's another strange and disturbing piece from a writer with a style like nobody else. It's very hard to follow, but as best as I can tell it has something to do with one character seeking ultimate knowledge, and the narrator reacting to the results of his quest. If it has a point, it may be the futility of all human effort. As usual for Bunch, the frenzied language of the story holds the reader's attention, but it's not a pleasant experience.

Two stars.

Family Portrait, by Morgan Kent

This brief tale from a new author starts off with a typical evening at home, as Mom and Dad try to get their young child to go to bed. Things get odd about halfway through the story, and the characters turn out to be something other than ordinary. That's about all there is to an inoffensive, if trivial, bit of whimsy.

Two stars.

Footnote to an Old Story, by Jack Sharkey

A meek little fellow goes on vacation on a Greek island, where he falls in unrequited love with a beautiful young woman.   After reading the Bible story about Samson, he grows his hair long. Apparently through sheer will power he changes himself into a muscular he-man and gains the attention of the woman. You'll predict what happens at the end, given the setting, the woman's name, and, unfortunately, the excellent illustration by Virgil Finlay, which gives away the whole thing. It's pretty well written, but way too long for a story with an obvious twist ending.


I warned you it gave away the plot.

Two stars.

Dangerous Flags: Another Adventure of the Green Magician, by Thomas M. Disch

This is a goofy fantasy, or maybe a mock fairy tale, set in an absurd version of the modern world. Coal gas emerges from underground mines in a Pennsylvania town, threatening the local population. The Green Magician (who, as far as I can tell, has never had any other adventures, at least in published fiction) fights the sinister English Teacher and her Rich Nephew. (The capitals are the author's.) A lot of random stuff happens. The English Teacher asks some inexplicable riddles. The Green Magician turns into powder. The English Teacher recites three poems. A Snow Fairy shows up. I guess it's supposed to be funny, but I didn't get much amusement out of it. I have the feeling that Disch is making fun, in a disdainful and superior way, of the kind of stories that appear in Fantastic.

Two stars.

Land of the Yahoos, by Adam Bradford, M.D.


Illustration by George Schelling.

If the Fates are kind, this will be the last rehashing of Gulliver's Travels from the pen of Doctor Joseph Wassersug, hiding under the name of his fictional narrator. As we saw three times before, he winds up in one of Swift's imaginary realms. This time it's the land of the Houyhnhnms, a race of intelligent horses, and the Yahoos, a clan of bestial human beings. He doesn't spend much time with the highly civilized Houyhnhnms, and most of the story is an obvious analogy between the Yahoos and modern society. The Yahoos are greedy for rocks, the way people are greedy for money; they waste time at social gatherings they don't really enjoy, the way people attend dull cocktail parties; and so on. As in previous entries in this series, the author wastes a lot of time getting the narrator to his destination. This story also drags on near the end, as the narrator completes a minor task mentioned in a previous tale. By making the Yahoos semi-civilized, with clothing and a language, Wassersug weakens the intent of Swift's misanthropic satire.

One star.

Look for the Silver Lining

After a particularly dismal bunch of stories, things can only go up from here. Maybe the next issue will be better. I can also look forward to a promising new film based on a classic tale by one of the pioneers of science fiction, as well as the latest novel from an author whose first book was nominated for a Hugo. Watch for my reports on these two exciting possibilities in the near future. Until then, remember to let a smile be your umbrella!


A scene from the new French film Les parapluies de Cherbourg (The Umbrellas of Cherbourg), not yet seen in the USA, in which all the dialogue is sung. I guess that makes it a fantasy film.

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Magazine/Anthology

[June 22, 1964] The Bridal Path (July 1964 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Here Come the Brides

June is the month for weddings, they say, and recent events seem to bear that out. 

Princess Désirée Elisabeth Sibylla, granddaughter of Gustav VI Adolf, King of Sweden, tied the knot with Baron Nils-August Otto Carl Niclas Silfverschiöld on June 4.  Those of you who aren't interested in royalty may wonder why I bother to mention this.  Frankly, I just love their names, although it gave my typewriter the fits to put in those diacritical marks.


The happy couple, during a serious moment of the ceremony.

Fittingly, a song about marriage is currently at the top of the American popular music charts.  The Dixie Cups hit Number One this month, with their very first single, The Chapel of Love.  No doubt many young women will be singing Goin' to the chapel and we're gonna get married to their boyfriends this summer.


The group is a trio; why are there four cups on the album cover?

From Miss Goldsmith to Mrs. Lalli

When I first opened up the pages of the latest issue of Fantastic, I thought there was a new editor.  I quickly realized that there are very few people named Cele, and it was too much of a coincidence to expect two editors to have that same first name.  Obviously, Cele G. Lalli is our old friend Cele Goldsmith, and she is now married to a Mister Lalli.  (I later found out that Michael Lalli also works for the Ziff-Davis Company, publishers of Amazing and Fantastic.  Sometimes, workplace romances work out for the best.) Will nuptial bliss have an effect on the contents of her magazines?  Let's find out.

The Issue at Hand


by Ed Emshwiller

The Kragen, by Jack Vance

Taking up half the issue is the cover story, a new novella from a writer known for colorful adventures set on exotic worlds.  His latest offering is no exception.

Centuries before the story begins, a starship full of criminals set out for a prison planet.  The inmates took control of the vessel and landed on a planet consisting of a single ocean, with no landmasses.  Their remote descendants have only vague memories of their origin, organizing themselves into clans based on the crimes of their ancestors.

(Vance indulges himself in a bit of humor here.  The clans have names like Procurers and Swindlers.  The Advertisermen have the lowest social status.)

The clans live on the gigantic floating pads of sea plants.  They survive on what the ocean provides, and are able to build houses and signal towers from plants, fish, and even human bones.  The people live a comfortable existence, for the most part, without glass or metal.

The only flies in the ointment are the kragens; large, squid-like sea creatures that prey upon the food supply of the clans.  The King Kragen, an enormous member of the species, chases the smaller ones away in exchange for offerings of food.

Our hero is a member of the Hoodwink clan, apparently descended from a con artist.  Now the name is literal; his job is to cover and uncover lights on a signal tower, in order to send messages to other floating pads.  One day a kragen attacks his home and food, and the King Kragen is not around to prevent the onslaught.  The protagonist takes matters into his own hands, defying tradition and killing the kragen after a long and bloody battle.  This leads to a crisis for the entire society, with the hero and his allies determined to continue their war on the kragens, and eventually to destroy the King Kragen itself, while the priests and rulers oppose them.


by Ed Emshwiller

The author creates a fascinating planet in vivid detail, while never letting the action stop for a moment.  In addition to violent battles with the kragens, the story contains courtroom drama, political debates, spying, kidnapping, plots, and counterplots.  The way in which the rebels obtain glass, metal, and electricity from their environment is interesting, even if it seems unlikely.  Vance adds a couple of footnotes to explain certain aspects of his setting, and this distracts from the story.  Overall, however, he does an excellent job of worldbuilding, while telling a compelling tale.

Four stars.

Descending, by Thomas M. Disch


by Robert Adragna

One of Goldsmith's – I mean, Lalli's – discoveries spins a haunting fable set in a department store.  A fellow down on his luck, without a job, without money, without anything to eat, buys food and books with his credit card, giving no thought to the inevitable consequences.  He purchases a meal at the rooftop restaurant the same way, then heads down the escalator, lost in the pages of a book.  (The volume he reads is Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray, which may be a clue to the story's symbolism.) I hesitate to say anything else about the plot, although the title provides a hint.  Suffice to say that exiting a building is not always as easy as entering it.

Disch develops a surreal concept with rigid logic, making the impossible seem real.  He keeps his tendency to be a smart aleck under control, perhaps because a young, struggling writer can identify with the desperate protagonist.  Whether or not I'm reading too much into the story, it's certain to remain in my memory for a long time.

Five stars.

The College of Acceptable Death, by David R. Bunch

Here is the most bizarre and gruesome tale yet from the mind of a highly controversial author of weird and disturbing imaginings.  The narrator instructs students by showing them the violent deaths of animals and people.  (If I'm reading the story correctly, these are only simulacra, which doesn't make them any less horrifying.) They also learn what it's like to be watched by an all-seeing God.  By the end of the lesson, the best thing they can expect is a peaceful death.

As you can tell, this is a grisly and depressing meditation on the meaninglessness of life.  I believe that many readers, maybe most, will hate its eccentric style, its violent images, and its nihilistic theme.  I can't deny that it has a certain compulsive power, but it's not a pleasant one.

Two stars.

The Boundary Beyond, by Florence Engel Randall


by Blair

As far as I can tell, only one other story by this author has appeared in the pages of a genre magazine.  That was One Long Ribbon, in the July 1962 issue of Fantastic.  I liked that one quite a bit, and I hope she continues to come up with equally enjoyable works of fiction in the future.  To my delight, her latest story is just as good.

The narrator looks back on the extraordinary event that occurred when she was a teenager.  Her older sister is engaged to a teacher.  (The theme of marriage appears again, this time in a sad way.) It's obvious that the narrator is in love with him as well, and that she is a better match for the dreamy, poetic young man than her superficial sister.  The fellow discovers a small, naked, delicately lovely woman near an ancient oak tree.  (We know from the beginning that she's a dryad, so the story depends more on mood than suspense for its effect.) The older sister met the same being when she was a very young child.  She hates and fears the dryad, leading to a tragic ending.

Beautifully written, this gentle and melancholy fantasy touches the reader's emotions with its insight into the human heart.  The author also displays a strong appreciation for nature, so that the fate of an oak tree is just as moving as that of a human being.

Five stars.

The Venus Charm, by Jack Sharkey


by Robert Adragna

I never know what to expect from Sharkey, even if it's rarely something outstanding, and I have to admit he took me by surprise again.  This oddball combination of space fiction and fantasy starts with a guy winning a seemingly useless object from a Venusian in a card game.  Later, he crashes his starship on a bizarre world and fights to survive.  The object turns out to bring both good and bad luck, depending on how it's used.  After reading about multiple misadventures, I suddenly found myself with a climax that amazed me with its audacity.

The planet the author describes is truly weird, and shows a great deal of imagination.  The wild twists and turns in the plot, as well as an extended discussion on the ambiguity of good and bad luck, left me dizzy.  I didn't suspend my disbelief for a single second, but the story held my attention.  Logic isn't Sharkey's strong point, so forget about plausibility and try to enjoy the ride.

Three stars.

The Thousand Injuries of Mr. Courtney, by Robert F. Young


by George Schelling

Full appreciation of this story depends upon familiarity with The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe and La Grande Bretèche by Honoré de Balzac.  I'll wait here while you read both stories.  (For those who don't want to bother tracking down those two Nineteenth Century tales of the macabre, let's just say that they deal with people getting bricked up.)

Mister Courtney goes home to discover his wife hiding someone in the closet.  True to his literary forebears, he bricks up the closet.  Because Mister Courtney is also working on a scientific project, the nature of which you'll see coming a mile away, this leads to an obvious twist ending.

Young is much better when he's coming up with original material, rather than retelling myths and legends, or writing pastiches of classic literature.  I like his science fiction love stories, and I wish he would go back to them.

One star.

For Better or For Worse

Despite a few low points, this was a fine issue, with some outstanding fiction.  Like a marriage, the relationship between a reader and a writer has its ups and downs.  If a particular magazine is disappointing, there's always something else to read.

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Magazine/Anthology

[May 22, 1964] Not Fade Away (June 1964 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Hello, Satchmo (And Mary)

A certain British quartet, which shall remain unnamed here, finally toppled from the top of the American popular music charts this month after dominating it for most of the year.  Whether or not this means the end of their extraordinary career on this side of the Atlantic remains unknown.  Whatever their fate may be, I wish them a fond farewell, at least for the nonce, and extend an equally warm welcome to two vocal artists from the United States.

Along with the proverbial flowers brought by April showers, the early part of May offered a hit song from a jazz legend whose career stretches back four decades.  Taken from a hit Broadway musical of the same name, Louis Armstrong's rendition of Hello, Dolly! reached Number One, and is likely to send more people flocking to the St. James Theatre to see Carol Channing in the title role.


Have you purchased your tickets yet?


Gotta love that smile.

Just recently, a much younger singer achieved the same chart position with a romantic rhythm-and-blues ballad.  Mary Wells, currently the top female vocalist for the Motown label, has a smash hit with the catchy little number My Guy.


The juxtaposition of the two titles on this single amuses me.

I suppose it's too early to tell if we're witnessing the slow demise of rock 'n' roll in the USA in favor of other genres, but perhaps the popularity of these two songs indicates something of a trend.  In any case, it's encouraging to see that, in a time when racial animosity threatens to tear the nation apart, music can cross the color line.

The Prodigal Returneth


by Robert Adrasta

Just as American performers reappear in jukeboxes and on transistor radios after an extended absence, a multi-talented author who has been away from the field for a while returns to his roots in imaginative fiction in the latest issue of Fantastic, and even earns top place on the cover.

Paingod, by Harlan Ellison


by Leo and Diane Dillon

After some years spent publishing a large number of science fiction and fantasy stories, as well as crime fiction, mainstream fiction, and a nonfiction account of his experiences with juvenile delinquents, Ellison migrated to the greener pastures of Hollywood.  Writing for television definitely pays better than laboring for the magazines, and you may have seen his work on Ripcord and Burke's Law.  The lure of Tinseltown hasn't kept him completely away from the pages of the pulps where he got his start, however, nor has he lost his talent for creating tales of the fantastic.

Trente, the alien illustrated on the cover, serves the mysterious, all-powerful rulers of all the universes that exist, known as the Ethos, as their Paingod.  He dispenses suffering to all the sentient beings in all the worlds that exist throughout all possible dimensions.  After performing this duty without feeling for an unimaginably long time, Trente develops something completely unexpected: a sense of curiosity, even concern, about those to whom he sends misery and sorrow.  At random, he enters the body of one lifeform on an insignificant planet, which happens to be Earth.  In the form of an alcoholic derelict, he speaks to a sculptor, who is mourning over the loss of his talent.  They both learn something about the nature of suffering, and Trente discovers the motives of the Ethos, and why they selected him to be the Paingod.

This is a powerful story with an important theme, told in a way that holds the reader's attention throughout.  Particularly effective are the scenes in which Trente dispenses suffering to an extraordinary variety of entities, described in vivid and imaginative detail.  I also greatly enjoyed the life story of the man whose body Trente inhabits.  Although the character really plays no part in the plot – he's merely a shell for the alien to wear – the complete and compassionate biography of one who knew more than his share of unhappiness adds to the story's theme, and displays the author's skill at characterization.

The rationale offered for the existence of suffering is, almost inevitably, a familiar one, philosophers having debated this question for millennia.  Ellison has a slight tendency to write with more passion than clarity; the phrase centimetered centuries threw me for a loop.  Despite these quibbles, this is a fine story, likely to remain in memory for a long time to come.

Four stars.

Testing, by John J. McGuire


by Dan Adkins

With the exception of one story in a recent issue of Analog, McGuire is another author we haven't seen around for a while.  Unlike Ellison's success with screenwriting, the explanation for this absence is simply that McGuire isn't very prolific, his few stories mostly written in collaboration with H. Beam Piper.  Our Illustrious Host didn't like his previous solo effort at all, which doesn't bode well for this one, but let's give the fellow a chance.

The narrator is the pilot of a starship carrying a small team of experts whose mission is to determine if a planet is suitable for colonization, a premise that may seem overly familiar to many readers of science fiction these days.  Also unsurprising is the fact that only one of the members of the team is female, and it's obvious that her role in the story is to be the Girl.  They foolishly break with Standard Operating Procedure and step out onto the surface of the Earth-like world without taking full precautions.  Instantly teleported far away from their landing site, they find themselves under observation by a floating sphere with dangling tentacles.  An agonizingly long and dangerous journey begins, as the team makes their way back to the starship through lifeless deserts and snowy mountains, facing deadly alien creatures, constantly under the watch of the inscrutable sphere. 

The only suspense generated by the story is wondering who's going to get killed next, and by what, since the bodies pile up quickly once the sphere shows up.  The mystery of the sphere remains unsolved, although the narrator makes some educated guesses about its nature and motivation.  If the author's main intention is to make the reader feel the suffering of his characters, he does a fair job of acting as a Paingod.  Otherwise, I found it overly long and tedious, as I kept reading about one random, violent death after another.

Two stars.

Illusion, by Jack Sharkey

by Blair

Unlike the first two writers in this issue, Sharkey shows up in the genre magazines on a routine basis, which is sometimes a good thing, and sometimes not such a good thing.  His latest yarn is a variation on the old, old theme of a deal with the Devil.  (Well, technically, a demon, and not Satan himself, but you know what I mean.) The protagonist gets three wishes in exchange for his soul, which isn't the most original idea in the world, either.  The first is for a never-ending pack of self-lighting cigarettes; the second for complete invulnerability, unless he deliberately tries to harm himself; and the third is for the power to make illusions become reality.  If you've ever read one, or two, or a zillion of these stories, you know that things don't work out well, after some slapstick antics. 

Sharkey uses the word illusion in an odd way, meaning anything from tricks of perspective (objects looking smaller when they're far away) to whatever appears on a TV screen.  The whole thing is inoffensive, I suppose, but lacking the rigid logic this kind of story needs and not very amusing.

Two stars.

Body of Thought, by Albert Teichner


by Dan Adkins

Teichner, like Sharkey, also hasn't gone away, making an appearance in Fantastic or Amazing or If every few months or so.  This time he offers us a tale about a secret government project to collect the brains of outstanding intellectuals soon after they die, keep them alive, and attach them to a computer that will allow them to work together, producing results far beyond anything one mind could do alone.  The story moves at a very leisurely pace.  We follow the main character, an elderly physicist contacted by the folks behind the project, as he visits the lab where this is going to take place, and discusses it with a colleague who is also one of its subjects. 

I had no idea where the plot was going, or what point the author was trying to make, until near the end, when a group of potential brain donors argue about what use should be made of this symbiotic, semi-organic supercomputer, each one claiming that his (never her) field is the most important.  I can appreciate the statement Teichner is trying to make about the human ego, but he sure takes a long time getting around to it.

Two stars.

Genetic Coda, by Thomas M. Disch

Disch is another perennial of Cele Goldsmith's pair of publications, either as himself or as Dobbin Thorpe, a pseudonym that always makes me smile, just because it sounds so silly.  Under his own name Disch comes up with a sardonic vision of the future.  Sextus is a humpbacked freak, living with his equally deformed father, his physically normal but perpetually angry mother, and several tutoring robots.  After his mother dies and his father vanishes, he lives alone with the machines, hidden from a world that would force him to undergo castration because of his abnormal genes.  (His father managed to escape that fate through bribery and isolation.) Determined to father a child, Sextus invents a time machine, leading to the kinds of paradoxes you expect, as well as some very Freudian complications.

I have mixed feelings about this story, which some might see as nothing more than a dirty joke, and others as a razor-sharp satire on human aspirations and pretentions.  It's very clever, but you're always aware that the author knows exactly how clever he is — far more than the dolts he writes about.  I'm going to have to be wishy-washy about it and give it a barely passing grade.

Three stars.

From the Beginning, by Eando Binder


by Michael Arndt

We haven't seen that byline in the pages of a science fiction magazine for a long time.  That's not a surprise, since this Fantasy Classic is a reprint from the June 1938 issue of Weird Tales.

As many SF fans know, Eando Binder is actually a pen name for brothers Earl and Otto Binder; E and O Binder, get it?  The introduction by Sam Moskowitz explains that Earl stopped writing after a few years, and most stories under the name of Eando are the work of Otto alone.  The present example is one of those tales, old-fashioned even in the late 1930's, where one man invents or discovers something amazing, so his friend comes over and they talk about it. 


Cover art by Margaret Brundage, who drew a lot of scantily clad ladies for this publication.

The gizmo, in this case, is an incredibly ancient metal ball, found during a paleontological expedition.  When placed in an electrical field, it produces telepathic messages from the remote past.  These reveal that a race of robotic beings with radium-powered brains came to the solar system from another star in search of radium to replace their dwindling supply.  We get a blow-by-blow history of the planets, as the robots create things like the Great Red Spot of Jupiter and the canals of Mars in their quest for radium.  Eventually they come to Earth, after they have drained the outer planets of the vital substance.  They set out for yet another star system, allowing only a small number of the elite to escape (there is only enough room aboard their spaceship for a few, so of course the upper class gets to go). The others to perish at the metal hands of an executioner.  The source of the telepathic messages is a rebel, who chose to remain on Earth alone rather than die (which seems like a reasonable choice to me.) The climax of the story tells us about the origins of the human race. 

Although some of the events in the story create a Sense of Wonder, overall it's a creaky example of Gernsbackian, pre-Campbellian scientifiction, of historic interest only.  I had to look twice to make sure it came from 1938 and not 1928. 

Two stars

Many Happy Returns?

Other than Harlan Ellison's hard-hitting fable, this is a weak issue, full of disappointing stories.  It makes me hope that the author of Paingod won't be blinded by the bright lights of show business, and will stick around for a while.


The Chicago airport probably doesn't have Ellison in mind, but what the heck.

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Fashion, music, politics, sports, Magazine/Anthology

[April 22, 1964] World Affairs (May 1964 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Hail, Britannia

To the surprise of absolutely nobody, the Beatles again have the most popular song on the U.S. charts.  This time is it's a cheerful little melody called Can't Buy Me Love.


You'd be grinning too, if you were that popular.

I suppose there will be no end of imitations.  My sources in the UK tell me a new group just released its first album.  You can't tell from the minimalist cover, but they're called the Rolling Stones.


I thought they were called Decca.

The album isn't yet available on this side of the Atlantic, so I can't tell you what it sounds like.  Judging by the haircuts, I assume it will be a lot like the Fab Four.  Fantastic Five, maybe, if Marvel Comics doesn't object.

The British don't just export music, of course.  They also supply us with sex and violence, in the person of James Bond, Agent 007.  From Russia With Love, the sequel to the hit movie Dr. No opened on Yankee screens this month.


One should always be properly dressed while wielding a pistol.

All's Fair

Other nations besides the United Kingdom have a chance to impress Americans for the next couple of years.  The New York World's Fair opened to the public today, with exhibits from dozens of foreign countries, as well as several states and business corporations.


That's the Unisphere, symbol of the Fair.  I call it a globe.

Those of us with long memories will recall the 1939 New York World's Fair.  It's hard to believe that a quarter of a century has gone by.


The pointy one is the Trylon and the round one is the Perisphere.  They look more modern than the new one, don't they?

It would tedious to try to describe all the stuff going on at this extravaganza, but let me point out a few highlights.  Science fiction fans will want to visit the Space Park.


NASA shows off their fancy equipment.

The state of Wisconsin brags about its most famous products.


Does that mean the World's Largest Cheese gets in free?

Noted puppeteers Sid and Marty Krofft will present a stage spectacular called Les Poupées de Paris (The Dolls of Paris.) So what?  Who cares about a kiddie puppet show?  Well, this musical revue is for adults only.  Seriously.  You have to be at least twenty-one years old to get in.  It's just too sexy and too scary for the little ones.


Here's one of the scary parts.  I can't show you the sexy parts unless you have proof of age.

For those of us who can't make it to the Big Apple this year or next, at least we can explore strange new worlds in the pages of our favorite magazines.  Let's head for the main gate and see what the latest issue of Fantastic has to offer.

Tickets, Please


art by Ed Emshwiller

Adept's Gambit, by Fritz Leiber

Our first exhibit is an oldie but a goodie — this issue's Fantasy Classic deserves the name, and I won't complain about filling more than one-third of the issue with a reprint.  It appeared in the pages of the 1947 Arkham House collection Night's Black Agents.


Cover art by Ronald Clyne

Just over three thousand copies of the book exist, so most fantasy fans won't be familiar with this novella featuring our old friends Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser.

A brief introductory note explains that the two adventurers are no longer in their usual fantasy realm of Nehwon.  Having made their way through passageways that connect all possible worlds, they are now on Earth.  To be specific, the Eastern Mediterranean area, in what seems to be ancient times.  Don't expect historical fiction, though.  This is a place full of enchantment and supernatural menace.

As they often do, the pair relax after their struggles in the arms of beautiful young women.  Things quickly go wrong when Fafhrd's paramour turns into a sow.  He suspects his companion of playing tricks on him, but this theory explodes when the Mouser's girlfriend changes into a giant snail.  Both ladies regain their normal shapes after a while, but whenever either of the heroes embraces a woman, the same thing happens.

This is, of course, an intolerable situation.  Reluctantly, they seek out their eldritch mentor Ningauble of the Seven Eyes.  That bizarre being sends them on a weird quest, in the company of a mysterious woman.  A long flashback sequence, narrated by the woman, relates the strange connection she has with her brother, a powerful practitioner of black magic.  It all leads up to a final confrontation with the evil sorcerer.

Nobody writes sword-and-sorcery adventures as well as Fritz Leiber.  This tale has just the right balance of wit, imagination, action, suspense, fully realized characters, colorful descriptions, and more than a touch of the macabre. 

Five stars.

To the Victor, by Leo P. Kelley


Cover art by George Schelling

We exit the giant Leiber pavilion and enter the first of four smaller exhibits. 

The setting is a planet inhabited by primitive aliens.  Humans colonized the place long ago, filling it with vast, high-tech buildings.  They want more elbowroom, and the aliens don't want their environment sacrificed to the newcomers.  Conflict is inevitable.  This isn't the usual kind of war, however.  One human being and one alien face each other in single combat.

A man well over one hundred years old, with doubts about what humanity has done to the planet, is the protagonist.  He witnesses the battle, and makes a symbolic gesture of his own.

The author contrasts the rapaciousness of the technological invaders with the aliens' love of the natural world.  I appreciate the point he's trying to make, but he does it in a heavy-handed way.  The combat scene involves odd, almost comic Rube Goldberg devices, which spoils the story's somber mood.

Two stars.

Master of Chaos, by Michael Moorcock


Cover art by Virgil Finlay

Time for a brief excursion outside the American section of this paper World's Fair, and a quick look at what the British have on display.  Will they offer us something as groundbreaking as the Beatles?

Well, not really.  Like the lead novella, this is a swashbuckling fantasy adventure yarn.  The hero goes to a castle that lies at the edge of the Earth.  After nearly losing his way inside its labyrinthine corridors, and doing battle with a monster, he confronts the sole inhabitant (As tradition demands, a beautiful and seductive sorceress).  Their meeting leads to a new challenge.

The most interesting and original concept in this story is the idea that Earth is surrounded by ever-changing Chaos.  As Chaos is conquered, Earth grows.  It's a striking notion, and adds a novel touch to an otherwise typical example of the genre.

Three stars.

All For Nothing, by David R. Bunch


Cover art by Lutjens

Back to the States with a writer like no one else, for good or bad.  In this offbeat creation, written in the author's eccentric style, a man creates an exact duplicate of himself.  His mad scheme is to challenge God to accept the double in his place, so he can escape from life and the afterlife.  Adding to the horrific mood is the elaborate machines the fellow intends to use to kill himself in a particularly slow and painful way.

I don't know what to make of this grim account of someone who doesn't want to exist in Earth, Heaven, or Hell.  It certainly held my attention, if only in a depressing way. 

Two stars.

Gulliver's Magic Islands, by Adam Bradford, M. D.


Cover art by Blair

If Fritz Leiber's name brought me into the fairgrounds, then Adam Bradford's made me want to find the exit.  Fair is fair, however, and I have to give the man a chance to redeem himself.  His last two Swiftian pastiches failed to add anything to the original, and missed the satiric point.  Will he stumble again?

(By the way, the magazine's editorial reveals that the author's real name is Joseph Wassersug.  He's a physician who writes medical articles.  As far as I can tell, he's never published any fiction other than this series.  The editorial also promises – or should I say threatens? – another one to follow.)

Once again, the narrator follows in Gulliver's footsteps.  He visits Balnibarbi, the island of scientists; Laputa, the flying island that floats above it; Glubbdubdrib, the island of magicians; and Luggnagg, the home of the immortal struldbrugs.  Not much is done with any of these except Balnibarbi.  I have to admit that the author provides some decent satire on the way in which scientists have to chase after money for their projects.  For that reason, this entry is a little better than the others.

(One odd thing that struck me.  The inhabitants of Glubbdubdrib are described as dark-skinned.  The name of their leader is Loother Krring.  All other words made up by the author seem to be meaningless, but this one appears to be an allusion to Doctor Martin Luther King, the famous civil rights leader.  What the point of this reference might be escapes me.)

Two stars

After the Fair is Over

As night falls and we leave the fairgrounds, souvenirs in our hands, we look back over an eventful day.  Obviously, the Fritz Leiber pavilion was the highlight of the fair.  If the other exhibits were disappointing, well, that's life.  At least we can send a postcard telling the folks back home all about it.

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Magazine/Anthology

[March 23, 1964] What's New?  Not Much (April 1964 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Things that Came

Judging by the unstoppable juggernaut known as the Beatles, it would seem that not much has changed in the last month or so.  Following the massive success of I Want to Hold Your Hand, which remained Number One in the USA for all of February and half of March, the four Liverpudlians had another smash hit.  Perhaps best known for its frequent use of the phrase Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, the upbeat rock ditty She Loves You is currently the most popular song on this side of the Atlantic.


Will they beat Elvis?

Of course, new things continue to happen.  The Ford Motor Company just produced a snazzy sports car called the Mustang.


It even matches that lady's outfit.

Voters in New Hampshire overwhelmingly approved the first legal state lottery in the nation since 1895.  Governor John W. King bought the first ticket.


He'll look even happier if he wins.

The Issue at Hand

Similarly, the latest issue of Fantastic offers a touch of the new, along with a lot of things that will seem familiar.


by Frank Bruno

Centipedes of Space, by Daniel F. Galouye

Here's a story filled with the traditional elements of space opera.  The main character is an Admiral in command of a fleet of two thousand starships.  (Writers always seem to assume that military space vessels will resemble Navy ships.  I suppose it’s the romance of the high seas.) An enemy armada threatens a group of inhabited worlds.  To reach the area in time to stop the attack, he must guide his flotilla through a dangerous region of space.  Few ships have survived such a journey. 

Bizarre creatures, from giant worms to dinosaurs, attack the warships.  Even stranger things happen, such as a naked woman suddenly appearing on the Admiral's flagship.  The phenomena can't be explained as hallucinations, because ships are destroyed and men die.  (There are no women in this future Space Navy.) Will anyone survive to stop the invasion?

Despite some originality, decent writing, and good characterization, this is a typical space adventure.  There's an explanation for the weird happenings, but it's not particularly convincing or interesting.

Three stars.

The Dunstable Horror, by Arthur Pendragon

(Based on what little I know about the legends of Camelot, I presume the author is using a pseudonym.  Further evidence for this is the fact that the narrator of this tale of eldritch horror is named Grail.)

In 1920, a British researcher arrives in New England to investigate an Indian burial ground.  He meets the owner of a lumber mill.  The fellow wants to look at the area also, as a possible source of wood.  Complicating matters is a strange blue light seen by his workers.  If that isn't spooky enough, the bodies of drowned animals keep showing up in the local river.  It won't surprise you to find out that this involves the grave of an Indian sorcerer.

There aren't many surprises in this imitation of Lovecraft.  Nitpickers will notice that the phrase comic book appears, although those didn't exist in 1920.

Two stars.

A Ritual for Souls, by Albert Teichner

We get a break from old-fashioned storytelling with this offbeat yarn.  Very peculiar aliens arrive on a depopulated Earth.  They take on human form in order to study the extinct species, which they think of as soulless.  They decide to imitate human behavior as well.  This turns out to be a bad idea.

I'm not sure what the author is trying to say in this dark satire of humanity's foibles.  It seems to be, at least partly, an attack on the philosophy of behaviorism.  At least it's different.

Two stars.

The Rule of Names, by Ursula K. LeGuin

Back to the familiar, with a tale of wizards and dragons.  The only magician on a small island is a middle-aged man, short and fat, without much skill.  A seafarer arrives, who also happens to be an enchanter.  It seems that a wizard made off with a dragon's treasure some time ago.  The new arrival thinks the local magician has it.  He's in for a surprise.

Deftly written, this light fantasy is reasonably entertaining, but the twist ending is predictable.  Particularly notable is the author's creation of an interesting fantasy world consisting only of islands.  Perhaps she'll make further use of it in the future.

Three stars.

The Devil Came to Our Valley, by Fulton T. Grant

This month's Fantasy Classic comes from the March 1937 issue of Bluebook.  I hesitate to call it a Classic, and it definitely isn't Fantasy.  The introduction by Sam Moskowitz tries to convince me that it's part of the Lost Race subgenre, but I don't buy it.  The isolated group of people in the story are very real.  Known as the Jackson Whites, they inhabit a mountainous area of New Jersey.  Their ancestry isn't clear, although the author presumes they're a mixture of Indian, African, and European.  Whatever the truth may be, there is nothing supernatural about these folks, in reality or in fiction.
An orphaned girl is not one of the Jackson Whites, but is raised among them.  She falls in love with a young man of the people.  The community thinks of them as married, without the need for ceremony.  A wealthy man shows up in a nearby town.  The woman is drawn to the luxuries he can provide.  This leads to murder, a dramatic courtroom trial, and a self-sacrificing gesture by the woman.

This tragic tale walks a thin line between genuine emotion and melodrama, often falling on the wrong side.  There's plenty of local color, although I can't vouch for how accurate it is.  Some of the narration is beautifully written, some of it is overwritten.  The author appears to feel great sympathy for the Jackson Whites, but also portrays them as ignorant and lawless.  Although not speculative fiction in any sense of the word, the background is exotic enough to appeal to readers of such.

Three stars.

Summing Up

Without any outstanding stories, this is a disappointing issue.  Neither the traditional tales nor the one unusual piece offer much excitement, although some are enjoyable enough.  I guess it goes to show that, however much we might hunger for something new, change isn't always an improvement.

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




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Magazine/Anthology

[February 23, 1964] Songs of Innocence and of Experience (March 1964 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

I trust that the spirit of William Blake will forgive me for stealing the title of his 1794 collection of poems.  It seems appropriate, now that the Beatles have conquered America with a combination of sophisticated melodies and simple lyrics.  Maybe you were one of the millions who watched the Fab Four perform the Number One song in the USA on The Ed Sullivan Show a couple of weeks ago.

If not, don't worry about it.  You'll find plenty of innocence and experience in the pages of the latest issue of Fantastic.


Cover by Paula McLane

Iron, by Robert H. Rohrer, Jr.

The cover story takes place long after metallic aliens failed to conquer Earth.  One of the invaders escapes from an underground prison after one thousand years, finding a domed city inhabited by robots, but without people.  During a battle of wits between the alien and the robots, we learn what happened to the vanished humans.

This story has some interesting concepts, but presents them in an unsophisticated way.  The manner in which the alien and the leader of the robots deduce the truth about each other from a few vague clues strains credulity.  There are no surprises in the plot.

Two stars.

The Graveyard Heart, by Roger Zelazny

In the near future, a small number of the elite go into suspended animation, emerging for a day or so now and then.  They are all extremely wealthy, but money is not the only thing needed to join this exclusive set.  Their long slumbers alternate with brief periods of parties and other amusements.

The protagonist falls in love with a woman who belongs to the group.  He struggles to join the set, facing the arbitrary whim of an elderly woman who has the final say.  Complicating matters is a cynical, alcoholic poet.  A dramatic event brings the characters together, with unexpected results.

If the first story in this issue lacked style and elegance, this one has plenty — one would say it has too much!  There are elaborate metaphors and multiple allusions, some of which went over my head.  The tone is world-weary and decadent.  The hibernating hedonists remind me of the inhabitants of J. G. Ballard's Vermillion Sands.  Not all readers will care for the author's literary pretentions, but I appreciated them.

Four stars.

The Coming of the Little People, by Robert Spencer Carr

This month's Fantasy Classic comes from the November 1952 issue of Bluebook.  As the story begins, a feeling of optimism fills the world.  Simultaneously, strange lights appear on the most inaccessible peaks on Earth.  Although the possibility of spaceships or biological experiments comes up, it's clear from the start (and the title) what's really going on.  Mischievous but benign fairies arrive to aid humanity.  Not only do they end the Cold War, they help an army officer and his female sergeant admit their love for each other.

Readers with a low tolerance for sweetness and sentimentality had best stay away.  If Zelazny's tale was the epitome of Experience, this one is the exemplar of Innocence.  It feels cruel to blame the author for naivety, when he wears his heart on his sleeve so openly.

Two stars.

Training Talk, by David R. Bunch

We turn from pure light to complete darkness in the latest mordant fable from a controversial author.  A man makes his two young children bury dolls made from sausage and paper.  Six months later, they dig them up.  What happens next is very strange.

I'm not sure what the author is trying to say, but it has something to do with the man's broken marriage and a woman's death.  The frenzied narrative style makes for compelling, if confusing, reading.

Three stars.

Identity Mistaken, by Rick Raphael

An astronaut crashes on an inhabited planet.  Only his brain survives.  The local aliens rebuild his body, based on their monitoring of Earth's television broadcasts.  The whole thing is just a set-up for a joke about the popularity of Westerns.  You may get some slight amusement from the punchline.

Two stars.

Summing Up

Zelazny and Bunch represent one extreme of imaginative fiction.  They make use of avant-garde literary techniques, at the risk of alienating the audience.  The other authors demonstrate simpler, more traditional methods of telling a story.  They communicate with the reader clearly, but may seem stale and unoriginal.  It's impossible to say which approach is better.  Maybe writers of fantasy and science fiction can learn a lesson from the Beatles, and make use of both.

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Book, Magazine/Anthology

[January 22, 1964] The British Are Coming!  The Americans Are Here! (February 1964 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Galactic Journeyers from the United Kingdom have often spoken about the strange phenomenon known as Beatlemania.  Not too long ago, CBS News offered a report on the craze.

This peculiar form of passionate devotion to four shaggy-haired musicians has made little impact here in the United States.  That may change soon.


released January 10


released January 20

With the nearly simultaneous release of Beatles albums by two rival record companies this month, Yanks have the opportunity to judge the British quartet for themselves.

For now, Americans seem to prefer ballads to upbeat rock 'n' roll.

Originally a hit for baritone Vaughn Monroe nearly twenty years ago, crooner Bobby Vinton reached the top of the charts for the third time with his sentimental remake.

Whether or not the USA welcomes the foursome from Britain remains to be seen.  It might be an omen that the latest issue of Fantastic features only American authors. 

Novelty Act, by Philip K. Dick

This prolific author specializes in quirky accounts of tomorrow's fads and follies.  His latest offering is no exception.

Most Americans live in gigantic communal apartment buildings.  The government still allows voting, but there's only one political party.  The President has no real power.  The most revered figure is the First Lady, who is still young and beautiful after a century.

(The description of the character, and the way in which the nation idolizes her, suggest that she is a parody of Jacqueline Kennedy.  The writer could not predict that the target of his gentle mocking would soon suffer a devastating tragedy.)

The protagonist dreams of winning the First Lady's favor by performing classical music with his brother on water jugs.  The brother works at a spaceship dealer, with the help of a robotic imitation of an extinct Martian creature.  The device, like the defunct Martians, can influence human minds.  Everything comes together when the brothers make their appearance before the First Lady, and discover her secret.

This is a mixture of comedy and serious political satire.  Imaginative details create a portrait of a neurotic future United States.  A hint at the end that the brothers may escape their subtle dystopia lighten the story's mood.  Although the plot is disjointed at times, it makes satisfying reading.

Four stars.

The Soft Woman, by Theodore L. Thomas

A man has a doll that looks like a naked woman with the head of a frog.  He meets a beautiful woman and brings her to his room.  A strange and frightening thing happens to him.

I can't say much more about this very brief story without giving away the ending.  It confused me.  I don't understand why the doll has a frog's head, or why it's named maMal [sic].  There seems no good reason for the man's unfortunate fate.  There's some beautiful writing, but what does it all mean?

Two stars.

The Orginorg Way, by Jack Sharkey

An unattractive fellow who grew up alone in a Brazilian jungle has a strange ability to crossbreed plants into organic versions of technological devices.  At first, he makes simple things like fishing rods.  Eventually he creates substitutes for telephones and lightbulbs.  He earns a vast fortune, enabling him to win the girl of his dreams.  Of course, there's an ironic ending.

The absurd misadventures of the protagonist provide mild amusement.  They way in which the plants imitate machines shows some imagination.  As a whole, however, the story is too silly.

Two stars.

The Lords of Quarmall (Part Two of Two), by Fritz Leiber and Harry Fischer

The conclusion of this short novel brings Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser together, along with the two rival brothers they serve, at the funeral pyre of the siblings' father.  The death of the ruler of the underground kingdom leads to open warfare between his heirs.  Sorcery and swordplay follow.

Disguise, deception, and skulking around keep the story moving at a rapid pace.  A major twist in the plot near the end is predictable.  Although there's plenty of colorful adventure, much of the hugger-mugger seems arbitrary.

Three stars.

They Never Come Back From Whoosh!, by David R. Bunch

In this surreal tale, people go inside a gigantic, soot-spewing building.  They do not return.  The narrator, like the others, feels a compulsion to enter the place, against his own will.  Within he meets one of the building's strange caretakers.

This is a bizarre allegory of life, death, nature, and technology.  The author's unique style is compelling, if not always lucid.

Three stars.

Return to Brobdingnag, by Adam Bradford, M.D.

A couple of months ago, the fictional Doctor Bradford journeyed to Lilliput, Jonathan Swift's land of tiny people.  Now he visits the realm of giants.  He finds out that they keep their population under control through death control instead of birth control.  Whenever a baby is born, an elderly person takes poison to ensure a quick and painless demise.  Their government is democratic, but the elite have more votes per person than the lower classes.  The author also describes the science-based sun worship of the inhabitants, as well as their unusual way of performing surgery.

As with the previous installment in this series, the story takes far too long to get the narrator to his destination.  The peculiar ways of the Brobdingnagians seem arbitrary, with no satiric point.

One star.

Death Before Dishonor, by Dobbin Thorpe

As we saw last month, Dobbin Thorpe is really Thomas M. Disch in disguise.  Like Thorpe's creation in the previous issue, this is a tale of horror.

A woman wakes up from an alcoholic blackout and finds a tattoo on her thigh.  She has no memory of how she got it.  It turns out she had a one-night affair with a tattoo artist while she was drunk.  The tattooist is a man of uncommon skill.  His creations have a life of their own.  The woman's romance with another man leads to terrifying consequences.

The story is gruesome, with a touch of very dark humor.  Some might see it as a cautionary tale about drunkenness and promiscuity.  I think the author just came up with a scary idea, and the plot grew out of it.  On that level, it works well enough.

Three stars.

Summing Up

With eight Americans offering seven works of imagination, there are certain to be some stories you like and some you don't.  I appreciate the wide range of fiction found here.  We have satire, pastiche, adventure, allegory, comedy, surrealism, and horror.  The only thing I'd like to stir into the mixture would be a few pieces from talented British writers.  A story by Aldiss, Ballard, or Clarke – to mention just the ABC's of the UK – would be refreshing.  Maybe the Beatles will add the same thing to American popular music.  At least it would mix things up a bit.

(Did you read about all the ways the Journey expanded last year?  Catch up and see what you missed!)




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Book, Fashion, music, politics, sports, Magazine/Anthology

[December 23, 1963] Ring Out the Old, Ring In the New (January 1964 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

[Time is running out to get your Worldcon membership!  Register here to be able to vote for the Hugos.]

Ring Out the Old

Is it 1964 yet?


The caption says Happy New Year, Kids!

These happy young cosmonauts seem to think so.  That's a Vostok rocket they're carrying.  You remember Vostok, don't you?  The Soviet space program that sent the first man and the first woman into orbit?  No wonder they look so happy.

Here in the good old USA we do things a little differently.


It's not even Christmas yet, but this guy is ready.

No matter how you celebrate the holiday season, this is the time to remember the old and look forward to the new.  For Americans, of course, the most important change was the loss of a martyred President and the inauguration of a new one.  We are not likely to forget 1963 for a very long time.


Norman Rockwell pays tribute to the late JFK.

When it comes to space travel, yesteryear's new ideas turn old very quickly.  The X-20 program was cancelled this month, after seven years of development.  There goes $660,000,000 down the drain.  Looks like the proposed Dyna-Soar reusable spacecraft is now as dead as a dinosaur.


Now that's what I call a real spaceship!

The old British Empire continues to evolve into new, independent nations.  As of December 12, Zanzibar and Kenya are the newest members of the United Nations.

In the world of popular music, a new artist paid tribute to a man who lived more than seven hundred years ago.  Belgian singer-songwriter Jeanne-Paule Marie Deckers, better known in the United States as the Singing Nun, holds the top position on the American music charts with her original composition Dominique. 

Deckers is a member of the Missionary Dominican Sisters of Our Lady of Fichermont, where she took the name Sister Luc-Gabrielle.  In her native land she is called Sœur Sourire (Sister Smile.) The song pays tribute to Saint Dominic (1170-1221), for whom the order is named.  You don't have to be Catholic, or understand French, to appreciate the Singing Nun's pleasant voice, or the cheerful melody of her song.


The second foreign language song to reach Number One in the USA this year.  At least the Americans didn't give it a silly name, the way they changed Kyu Sakamoto's lovely tune Ue o Muite Arukō into Sukiyaki.

Ring In the New

Fittingly, the latest issue of Fantastic (and the first dated in the coming year) features the first half of a new novel, but one that was born twenty-five years ago.


(cover by EMSH)

The Lords of Quarmall, by Fritz Leiber and Harry Fischer

You may not know the name Harry Fischer.  A new writer, perhaps?  Well, not exactly.  In fact, Fischer created the famous characters Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser in a letter to his friend Leiber nearly three decades ago.  Since then, of course, the great fantasist has made the pair of adventurers his own.  In 1937, Fischer wrote about ten thousand words of a novel.  Leiber completed it, and it appears here for the first time.

Quarmall is a strange kingdom.  Its ruler lives in a keep above ground, but the rest of his realm lies deep down below.  He has two adult sons.  One reigns over the upper half of this underground land, the other the lower half.  The brothers are bitter rivals, each trying to destroy the other through treachery and magic.  They also plot against their father.  He, in turn, hopes to eliminate his sons and leave his kingdom to the unborn child of a concubine. 

Unknown to each other, Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser are each hired as a swordsman by one of the brothers.  When the king's archmage announces the death of his master, the conflict between the siblings explodes into open warfare.

As you would expect from Leiber, this tale of derring-do is full of vivid, exotic details.  The plot moves slowly, with much of the story taken up with the bored frustration of the two heroes.  Fafhrd's rescue of a lovely young slave doomed to be tortured provides some excitement.  No doubt the second half will provide plenty of sorcery and swordplay.  It's not a bad yarn, but hardly up to Leiber's usual standard.

Three stars.

Minnesota Gothic, by Dobbin Thorpe

Another new author?  Hardly.  Thomas M. Disch, who appears later in the magazine, hides behind this peculiar pseudonym.  The story is about a little girl named Gretel, but don't expect an old-fashioned fairy tale.  The time is now.  Gretel's mother leaves her in the care of a very old woman and her strange, bedridden brother.  Black magic is involved, but not the way you might expect.  This is a well-written, chilling little story.  I wouldn't advise reading it on a dark and stormy night.

Four stars.

The Word of Unbinding, by Ursula K. LeGuin

With four or five stories to her credit, LeGuin is still a relatively new voice in fantasy fiction, but her skill makes her seem like an old pro.  Her latest tale of enchantment begins with a wizard trapped in a prison made of darkness.  An evil sorcerer robbed him of his magic staff and locked him away.  Although the loss of his staff greatly diminishes his power, he still possesses the ability to transform himself.  He attempts to escape in many ways, only to be recaptured and made even weaker.  In order to defeat his enemy, he must pay the ultimate price. 

The author creates a dark fantasy of great imagination and vividness.  The reader is sure to empathize with the despair and heroism of the protagonist.

Four stars.

Last Order, by Gordon Walters

Like LeGuin, Walters is a writer with few published works. Sadly, he doesn't share her talent.  The story begins on an asteroid.  An undescribed being tries to protect its master from an attack by police robots.  When the master dies, it seeks revenge on all those who resemble the robots.  The scene shifts to Earth.  A detective with a fear of space travel receives an invitation to investigate the asteroid with his old partner, who left for space long ago.  It turns out that the vengeful being kills anyone who arrives on the asteroid.  After a dangerous encounter with the being, the truth comes out.

The characters frequently speculate about the possibility of a disembodied alien lifeform joining with spacemen in symbiosis.  This turns out to be a complete red herring.  The reader quickly learns that the spacesuits of the future are intimately connected to the bodies of their wearers, so the climax of the story is no surprise.  There's much too little plot for a novelette.

Two stars.

A Thesis On Social Forms and Social Controls in the U. S. A.,by Thomas M. Disch

The secret identity of Dobbin Thorpe emerges from disguise with this fictional essay.  It describes a nightmarish world of the future.  In the Twenty-First Century, China and the Soviet Union destroy each other in an atomic war.  Africa collapses into a state of permanent crisis.  Europe is under the control of the Vatican.  (Most Protestants move to the United States, which now includes Canada.) Only Australia emerges unchanged.

Disch begins with the famous dictums of George Orwell.  War is Peace.  Ignorance is Strength.  Freedom is Slavery.  To these, he adds two more.  Life is Death.  Love is Hate.  One by one, he describes how these principles apply to American society.  All adult males serve one year out of every five as a brutalized slave.  The other four years they indulge in unrestrained orgies of pleasure.  Women must care for the children they bear from multiple mates, or else serve as laborers or prostitutes. 

The author paints a terrifying portrait of a culture that deliberately chooses to be schizophrenic.  The essay's cold logic convinces the reader that such an insane world might truly exist.  The stories by Thorpe and Disch could not be more different, except for the fact that they both induce a strong sense of foreboding.

Four stars.

Summing Up, and a Bonus Review

The new year begins with a very pessimistic issue of the magazine.  From the sadistic Lords of Quarmall, to the insane world of the future, hardly a hint of hope appears in its pages.  Even the book review by S. E. Cotts deals with a novel haunted by doom.  I have read The Sundial by Shirley Jackson, discussed in the column.  It's a very strange book.  A group of eccentric people waits for the end of the world inside a weird house.  Like everything I have read by Jackson, it is unique.  I recommend it for reading by the fireplace on a dark night, waiting for the old year to fade away.

Five stars.

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